This summer, before we decided to start making a baby, we went to several doctors to see if we should even think about it. Our biggest concern: my past battle with blood clots. (click here to read all about that). An appointment with a hematologist got me breathing comfortably. "Have a baby; kids are wonderful; I have three"- he was supportive. But, there was a catch: Get ready for needle pokes in your stomach again.
A month of stinging has passed and I'm bravely facing the seconds of pain. This go around I only have to get once-a-day injections and they don't bruise anywhere close to what some of the last ones did. And Luke and I have the routine down pretty well. In fact, I keep saying he's the brave one. No signs of fainting, no hesitation before he puts the needle into my skin. He jokes that he even looks forward to it. Good thing, I suppose, considering we have months and months to go. And as we get close to when I could deliver, I'll get a change in type and dosage and return to the twice-a-day routine. Pretty much one day at a time works for me. As for Luke, he's excitedly pondering other ways he can use his newfound skill.
They say the average person will change careers seven times. (OK, it really depends on the website where you check this statistic. Some say that seven is ridiculous; others say it's really only three.) Ahem. The average person changes careers three times. Well, Luke isn't who I would call an average person, but he talks frequently about changing careers. (How many times can one really deal with the frustration of computers? Actually, how many times can one deal with the frustation of computer users without walking- no, running- away, screaming?)
Luke's latest and greatest idea for a new career? Phlebotomy. The joy he could have in sticking needles into many people, all day long! With me, he even has a crafty little mantra: Pinch up the skin; stick it in; count to ten. Imagine the clever words he could come up with for drawing blood.
Yes, I think he's on to something here, especially since it means he would work and I would stay home! Unless he comes up with a way to open an in-house clinic. Hmm. I better start a new strategy.
So whatever he decides about a job, right now these syringes and needles are starting to pile up by our bed. We don't have an official sharps container, but the pharmacist told us how to improvise. Of course, we aren't using her suggestion. Our method involves filling empty Gatorade bottles. We plan to seal them tight, with tape or something, and then dispose of them. The problem is that they're clear, so anyone can see what's inside. Of course the safety is activated on each syringe, so the needle is no longer sticking out.
Looking at these bottles, Luke one day picked one up and shook it. "Baby's first rattle," he said, blue eyes twinkling. Maybe we can go into the toy business?
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