November 15, 2005
By the fourth prick, I had tears in my eyes. No one likes having blood drawn, least of all five times in four hours from the same spot in the arm. Especially not needle-phobes like me!
I whined to Tom, whined to my friends, whined as if something were really wrong. As if taking the 3-hour glucose test for gestational diabetes were akin to a spinal tap.
Taste of What's to Come
This glucose test meant rearranging my entire work schedule with little notice so I could sit for hours in a waiting room. A little taste of how a sick child will shake up the best-laid plans? It also meant fasting the night before, which to a pregnant woman borders on martyrdom-- but how often do new mother's complain they can't find time to eat?
Then there's the international, Nobel-peace-prize-winning speaker that Tom and I looked forward to hearing at our alma mater this week. It's been on our calendar for months. Only thing, I just discovered that the night of his address is that only night we can tour the hospital (due to travel plans, it's now or never).
How many more speakers will we miss because we can't find (or afford) a babysitter? Or because of a child's school play?
On Saturday, I realized that we're nearing the end of football season, and I haven't had a single beer. Pizza, yes. Beer, no. It's not quite the same. Yet I won't be downing them next fall either, since I'll be nursing a baby. And before you know it, those Saturdays will be spent on cold, wet bleachers for children's soccer games.
Lay Me on the Altar
I say all of this as if it were a big deal. You know what? It's not.
If you had told me a year ago I'd spend all day getting poked with needles for a glucose (which, incidentally, I passed), I'd have leapt for joy. Yesterday, I knew deep-down there was nowhere I'd rather be.
Hearing a speaker versus seeing where I'll deliver my baby? Didn't even have to think about it.
Okay, so I do miss the beer. But what a greater rush I will know when my baby wraps his hand around my finger for the first time! What a great rush I will know every time I hear her giggle!
Such small sacrifices I'm making for a great gift. Sacrifice isn't even the right word. It's all a gift.