Jack had to get his blood drawn today. I have been putting it off for about a month and a half now (the doctor said no rush...so I didn't rush. Am I a horrible mom? Who wants to get their 9 month old's blood drawn any way?) I thought I was totally prepared. I really don't mind getting my blood drawn and have done it so many times it's no big deal. For some inexperienced and ignorant reason I thought they would prick his heel or something. Well, they didn't. The draw called for two nurses. They both looked a little nervous and the dude said, "It looks like he's about to cry any second." What?
So, I put on my brave-mom face, but my insides were swimming with goldfish and started to get that queasy feeling. Suddenly, my palms were sweaty and I was not the typical "calm-mom" that I was supposed to be. No way.
I laughed nervously and explained to the nurse that this was his first blood draw and I don't think I could be one of those moms who holds it together while her kid is spewing his guts everywhere (thank You Jesus that hasn't happened yet.) She smiled as if it was totally normal and told me he would be fine.
I did my best to distract Jack with whatever I could find and the nurse warned me again, "hold his arm down." and I did. I watched them insert a tiny needle into his tiny arm and my little guy was a champ. Except for, in typical Jack fashion, he did not like someone holding him so tightly. He turned apple red trying to break free from their grip, but without so much as a whine. That-aboy, Jack! As my dad always says, "spit on it and growl!"
...and growl he did. All the way to Taco Don's (THE best Mexican restaurant in all of Prescott.) with his dad. It was delightful!
and I made it...through my first blood-draw-needle-invasion. Probably not my last.