Boogers on the Wall

Thursday nights have become a real pain in my butt thanks to a new medication I’m taking.

As if I weren’t in enough pain already, I decided to add a shot into my life every 7 days.

Since my second child was born 4½ weeks early, my new doctor suggested I start taking medicine at my 16th week of pregnancy that should prevent me from going into preterm labor this time.

Little did I know that medicine was administered by weekly injection. Oh, and in order to save $30 a week, I was going to have to give the shot to myself or have my husband administer the shots instead of a registered nurse at my doctor’s office.

It has been a real learning experience. The first week doing the shot at home, my two little boys wanted to watch. But as soon as the needle was ready they started screaming bloody murder in the hallway outside our bathroom.  That did wonders on my nerves.

I know I’ll never forget the week we lost the needle off of the syringe somewhere on our bathroom floor. Then, found it again when it stuck my husband’s thumb. I sure hope he doesn’t go into preterm labor now.

But all joking aside, I am a big baby when it comes to needles. Normally I have to turn my head when a nurse draws my blood or I’ll get lightheaded. I have been poked and tested more times in the past 18 months than ever before in my life, but that doesn’t mean I have grown to enjoy the skin pierce.

Not to mention the pain that comes after the shot. Normally the medication makes my whole leg sore for a day or so.

But despite all of the pain, I have never wanted to have a baby more in my entire life than I do right now. I am scared, anxious, ecstatic and thrilled to be pregnant. Too bad being thrilled does nothing to soften the needle’s point.

I think that no matter how many times I go through with this weekly ordeal, and no matter how many times my husband tells me to “relax,” I will stiffen up like a corpse during every injection.

But I am determined to do all that is in my power to ensure that the baby I am carrying has a fighting chance at life. For me that means things like no Ibuprofen and weekly shots.

The things you do for love. And heaven knows I love this baby — a lot more than I ever thought possible at this point.

One day I’ll look back and be glad I did this, but for now I’m going to keep my eyes closed and try not to flinch.