torture!

{26 weeks and 3 days}

a couple of weeks ago ... july 13th (my dad's birthday) to be exact,

i fasted 2 hours before my dreaded glucose drink/blood glucose test appointment.

i think all pregnant women hate this appointment.

i remember feeling starving and nauseous before getting to the doctor's office when i was prego with easton. and then jord and i went and binged on a big greasy cheeseburger and fries after the appointment.

i didn't even feel that this time so i thought all was going well. 

my babysitter, a.k.a. my sister was in belize so i took easton with me.

he was being such a good boy, playing with the toys in the waiting area.

 so all was REALLY going well!

i was called back to a room and as soon as my weight and blood pressure was taken 

and our room door shut ... all hell broke loose.

easton was so upset i took him away from the more appealing toys up front

to the boring books and puzzles in the room we were put in.

all he wanted to do was climb on top of the doctor's rolling stool and play in the sink.

after what felt like an hour of waiting to actually be seen, dr. young finally came walking through the door with a dumdum sucker that calmed easton down for about 2 minutes.

just enough time for me to say the baby is moving lots and everything is going great. no questions.

then i laid on the little bed or whatever you want to call it to hear the baby's heartbeat.

easton freaked. he did not like me laying down.

immediately after hearing the baby is doing great, the nurse came in to draw my blood.

i think this is the part of this appointment that i dread the most. 

i H.A.T.E. needles! 

needless to say ... my veins are small, weak, or non-existent, if you will. 

(i promise i am getting to the reason i titled this post TORTURE.)

the nurse tied a tourniquet around my bicep ready to poke a vein in the middle of my arm.

i warned her she probably won't get anything so she should just poke my hand.

believe me ... i learned from all of the blood drawing appointments when i was pregs with easton.

she tried anyways because she thought she "would be that good."

after telling me that i was right with easton bawling in my lap, she poked my hand ... twice. NOTHING!

what? they usually always get something out of my hand.

because i was almost in tears and so annoyed ... i think it showed on my face pretty good,

the nurse went to grab some help.

a second nurse comes in. she tied a tourniquet around my other bicep and pokes a vein in the middle of that arm. nada.

so she ties up my other arm ... again ... and i asked her, probably with some attitude,

 "are you going to poke this arm again?"

thank heavens she did not. 

so she went for the wrist.

at first no blood came. it felt like 5 minutes of the needle sitting in that vein while 

i think i said a million little prayers and the nurse saying at the same time,

"if we don't get anything, you are going to have to drink the drink again ..."

NO! please no. 

and then ...

"we got it! we got it!" she hollered.

 i wasn't watching ... i never look when i am poked.

i just clench my teeth together, look away, and pray i don't jump when i feel the sting of the needle.

whew! thank you Heavenly Father for answering one of those prayers.

i don't think me and east could have left the doctor's office fast enough!

to the jeep we ran, got buckled into our seats and i turned on a movie for east to watch

while i drove around the block with tears in my eyes, talking to jord on the phone.

by the time i arrived home, easton was finally asleep and i was calmed down. 

i was so happy to be home!

{me and my "sad" face. kind of hard to look really sad with a goofy husband behind the camera.}