TTC Blood work… when you hate needles…

Yesterday was a mid-day, day 21 (ish- it was actually day 22) cycle blood test. It has been three months that I’ve been trying to get my blood stolen from me quite rudely on my Day 21- the first few attempts were colossal failures for two reasons:

1. I’m not that motivated to plan having my blood sucked from my body and all that will entail (yes, I hate needles. Yes, there will be more, that doesn’t mean my dizziness, nausea and general feeling of catastrophe will ever pass).

2. My day 21 has landed TWICE on a Sunday… to which there are NO private or public blood collection clinics open in the city. I realize this always on the Sunday (instead of going the day before) and have zero time on the Monday to go in during a work day.

Monday was day 21… and thankfully I forgot my prescription thingy at home. Oh well. Yesterday I had some magical time between clients (and was already between daycare visits) to swing by the hospital and chill out nervously, trying not to vomit all over the nice (blood splattered, no seriously there were blood splatters) floor.

What I noticed about this visit compared to my Day 3 visit? Like this visit the Day 3 nurses new exactly why I was coming in- it had all the trappings of fertility or pregnancy blood work. I got LOADS of questions, cooing, encouragement and general coddling at that visit. TWO nurses helped me (along with PapaBean) get through the experience- it was fantastic. I left feeling weirdly hopeful.

Yesterday was different. Different hospital (and let’s be honest, blood drops on the floor do not induce confidence) with extremely cranky nurses. That said… as soon as a pregnant lady walked up to the counter there was cooing and ouuing and general exclamations of amaze-balls. I perked up. Maybe when the receptionist nurse lady saw MY blood work she would give me another song and dance. I mean- one can only hope?

Nope. It was clear this nurse came to a whole other (and to be fair, more accurate) conclusion: this bloodwork was because something isn’t working and we need to actually prove I ovulate. There were murmured questions about whether my coworker knew I was there- (the receptionist knew her and wanted me to pass along a message of “hey, what’s up”), but said in a way that perhaps I would want to hide this. No smiling, no happy song and dance… just a sad look on her face with a little sad smile.

The “nurse” who took my blood actually admitted (after I begged asked her to “please talk to me”) that she was in school for pharmacy and this was “just a job until I’m done my exams”…. PapaBean assures me that most blood work staff are lab techs and this was normal. Except, it made me want to puke all over and she honestly left an ugly bruised circle on my arm.

All in all, I survived another instance of my blood being stolen from me without fainting, vomiting or having to put my head between my knees. I call that a win.

Do you feel urges to prove you’ll be a worthy parent?

A weird and unexpected side affect of all this intensity and emotional trauma around trying, was the guilt and expectations regarding friend-babies.

PapaBean and I have (thankfully) only one close couple friends who have a baby and who’ve lived near by. Oh, we have loads of friends and acquaintances who have babies coming out of their ears, but we don’t hang out with them.

These friends are fabulous, alternative, like us, and happen to have the cutest little bean. Last fall we were so sad to see them move away but have kept in touch. They are in the inner circle of friends who know we’re trying (without success) and that I confide in often regarding just how hard this has been. She’s pregnant again- which I am legitimately happy for her (no face punching feelings! I view this as a successful step). And this summer they are visiting three times with their soon-to-be new born little girl.

But when she asked if we would babysit, I balked. And immediately felt like I should accept all things baby because we want one so badly. I worry that if I say how babysitting for three full 12hr days really just will be too much for us right now that she’ll think “why do you think you should have your own then, if it’s too much just for  a day”.

Oh I know she doesn’t actually think this… but it was a surprising emotion/thought that definitely was up front and central, hovering in the background of our conversation. I know, intellectually, that someone else’s child isn’t the same. That it is a good idea to start saying “no” and recognizing that having house guests, no matter how much they’re good friends, is a lot of work and we’ll need some down time.

On a similar thread; our cats wake us up 2-4x a night. This has been a nightly occurrence for over two years now. We’ve tried a whole bunch of strategies, but nothing really works. It’s honestly a whole other post, but I do actually get out of bed to feed them at least once a night (on good nights) and on bad nights it’s 4x of sitting up and spraying water like a crazy lady. I have no idea how I’m still functioning, since I’m a person who needs at least 10 hours of sleep to feel “perfectly rested”.

Whenever I complain about the cats to people who know we’re trying, I immediately feel guilty. Like if I can’t handle the cats, what will I do when we have a baby? Except, I know there’s a huge difference: a) babies aren’t cats; babies, for the most part, grow beyond the toddler stage b) you can’t spray them with water c) or hiss at them d) or kick them off the bed violently and yell “SHUT THE F%#K UP!”.

As a smart lady, who thought she had all her self-esteem shit in gear, these emotions and (over)reactions totally caught me off guard. I never figured I’d feel like I’d have to prove my worth as a parent BEFORE I even conceived.

I’m wondering- is this a common feeling for women TTC? (I say women, since my hubby has absolutely NO similar thoughts. I’ve asked. And I have a funny feeling it’s very gendered and socialized….boo).