This may seem silly, but I absolutely abhor needles. The mere thought of blood being drawn from my veins leaves me cold. There are certainly much worse procedures to have done and I know that there are people that endure needles and much worse almost daily. God bless those people and thank God I am not one of those people.
I remember going with my mother to her prenatal appointments as a child. There was the amazing part of hearing the baby’s heartbeat. Then there was the horrifying part of my mother having her blood work done … I couldn’t watch… I hid behind a chair. With that understanding burned in my mind, I thought to myself, “I never want to be pregnant” (because I don’t want my blood drawn). Now that’s pretty silly and certainly not a good reason to avoid pregnancy as a married adult.
The only times I’ve had my blood drawn was in the last three years: with my first pregnancy and when I donated breast milk to the local milk bank. Blood work is of course inevitable during pregnancy but I still don’t like it. Knowing in my mind that “it’s not a big deal” I’m still anxious. My anxiety only increases when we enter the hospital where the clinical lab is located. As we waited with our number in the hall, I only get more nervous.
As the nurse goes through the lab request from my midwife, she marks each test in a different color, seven in all. She walks me back to the chair with the arm rest and I beckon my husband to follow. I sit down in the chair and try to breath normally. The nurse props up my arm and ties the tourniquet, then swabs my arm. Before she inserts the needle, I grab my husbands hand and look away from needle. The nurse asks me questions about my first pregnancy to get me to relax as she swiftly fills all seven vacutainers. With a little gauze and medical tape, I am all done and ready to go.
It really is silly that I get so worked up about getting my blood drawn. It’s the anticipation that gets me, after the needle is in, I am totally fine.