The Test

I first took The Test three years ago. I only made it 2/3 of the way through. But thank God, they didn't make me take it again. They told me I passed. Pure miracle.

I took The Test again today. Well, it was a more simplified version. To see if I needed to take the longer version. I did make it through this shorter one, but the jury's still out on whether or not I passed. Dear Lord, I hope I passed.

It is not my driver's test. Not my college entrance exam. It was worse: The Glucose Tolerance Test.

Every pregnant women takes it nowadays. And no one enjoys it. But The Test is even worse for a pregnant woman with a particular problem. And I've got that problem. Truth be told, I am a horrible blood donor. Not only do I have super-thin veins, but they roll. (My mom is the same way.) So they poke. And poke again. And again. Then I start to get hot. Queasy. Weak. And light-headed. It's a horrible experience. I was in charge of organizing Red Cross blood drives in college and so I felt compelled to donate; even those ladies said, "Honey, if I were you, I'd just save your blood for yourself." Yup, I'm that good.

I don't remember taking the screening test with the boys (that's the one I took today.) I only remember having to take the pain-staking three-hour test. The worst part about that one is you have to fast 8-12 hours beforehand, chug this super sugary orange liquid and then go in for three separate blood draws to see how your body reacted to the sugar. I only made it to the second blood draw last time before I almost blacked out and then threw up the sugary liquid. It was horrific. Thank God, they were able to gather enough information from the first two draws that I didn't have to do it again.

I was optimistic this morning. It was just the screening test to see if I had to take the full Glucose Tolerance Test. I didn't have to fast. I drank a lot of water and was determined to get through this one blood draw. The orange sugary liquid didn't take as bad as I had remembered (well, at least at first) and all of the girls seemed very sweet and competent. Leah C. called me into her exam room and we exchanged pleasantries. She had an almost-three-year-old little boy and so we chatted about mom stuff while she prepped the needle.

"I've got really thin veins," I warned her. "People seem to have the best luck with the smallest butterfly needles."

"Oh, I'm up for the challenge," she teased. "I've got my butterfly needle right here. But pregnant women tend to have big veins because there's so much blood pumping through their body." She asked me to make a fist while she started searching my arm for a good one. I looked away. (Yeah, I've also got a weak stomach.) "That's weird," I heard her say. "I can't find a good one. Let me try the other arm." I laughed that if I brushed my teeth, I could probably get a pint of blood from my bleeding gums - but it figures that they wouldn't be able to get it anywhere else. Right arm: one poke. Left arm: one poke. Then she tried my hand. She found what she thought was a good vein and poked it. And rolled the needle. And still, came up empty.

I started to get dizzy. My ears started to get clogged. "Um, is there a cold wet cloth? Is there somewhere I can lay down? What should I do, put my head between my legs?" The room with the cot was full and it was difficult for me to bend over with the massive bowling bowl affixed to my midsection. Leah called in another nurse. They gave me more cold compresses on my neck and I struggled to stay alert. I have never fainted in my life, but this was the second time I got this close. My stomach started rumbling. "I think I'm gonna be sick." At this point, Nurse B had made another attempt at my right arm and was successful in connecting to a vein. She continued to draw blood while Leah brought the trash can to my seat. At this point, I felt like a highly needy patient and just wanted it all to be over. But the trash can Leah brought over smelled really bad. I told her and she brought over a larger one. These poor, sweet ladies. They were so helpful. I wanted to be light and jovial, make jokes about how demanding I was and apologize for my situation. But I was much too busy trying to keep cool while also getting rid of every ounze of that horrible sugary liquid.

After it was out, I felt 100% better. The girls were relieved to have gotten the needed blood and I was happy that I didn't need to get poked anymore. They wouldn't let me leave right away, even though I assured them I was better, and fanned me with a folder until the color came back in my face. "I really hope you don't have to come back for the three-hour exam!" Leah told me.

Yeah. Me too.

Add that to the list of sacrifices us mothers make for our unborn babies. But please, Baby Girl... please, please, please don't make me do that again. I love you, but I'm not sure my body could prove it with another one of those Tests.