The Cure...

In the words of our current president, LET ME BE CLEAR:

I, Jessica Maria Rogers Ivins, LOATHE needles.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "Who doesn't?"

But I'm here to tell you, I can't even look at a sewing kit without gagging. I once went in for a flu shot, and screamed so loud the nurse had to shake me to say she hadn't even put the needle in yet. After the ordeal, I heard the same nurse muttering something to the effect of "worse than a kindergartner" under her breath as she left the room. I passed out during our high school blood drive. Not because I was donating blood (like I could get past the finger prick to determine blood type), but because just the thought of what was going on behind me made my head spin. Just the smell of those alcohol wipes sends me running for the hills.

Get the picture?

But I am happy (sort of) to report, that I have found the cure for severe needle-phobia.

It's a miraculous thing I like to call Pregnancy.

At my first doctor visit, the nurse practitioner finished up the exam, then sent me down to what I've come to lovingly refer to as the "torture closet" to get my blood drawn. Five vials of blood later, I had my head below my knees and a husband who was ready to call 911. "Don't worry," my doctor reassured me, "you only have to do this twice during the whole pregnancy."

Well, 13 weeks and four blood draws later, I am beginning to feel like a pro. The phlebotomist and I are on a first name basis. Heck, I could probably draw my OWN blood at this point.

And I'm even learning some new information about myself.

I happen to be O Negative, which is very rare, and very useful because it means I can give blood to just about anyone.

The bad news (you knew it was coming) is that having this special gift can actually HURT my baby. But there is something that can be done. And it involves a sharp, pointy object.

In three weeks, I not only get to experience the joy of yet ANOTHER blood draw... I get a nice, big, PAINFUL shot, right in the rear end.

I'm learning to accept my fate. In fact, by the end of this thing, I might not even flinch during the epidural.

All I'm saying is, you can only be pricked and poked so many times before it actually becomes routine. That flu shot nurse would be so proud.