Here it is: my first entry into the realm of blogging. I’ve been contemplating this move for a while, wondering if I should blog and why. Blogs I tend to read generally fulfill one of two purposes; either they give some sort of insight into practical theology, or they report personal updates and celebrate the milestones of children. I don’t have much to contribute to either of those categories. So what would I blog about?
Yesterday, I had an experience that prompted me to think, “This would make a good blog entry.” Not too significant in and of itself, this experience tipped the scales in my mental debate of “to blog or not to blog.” What happened? Simply put, I had blood drawn. Twice. In one day. Five vials. (No, I did not pass out.) You see, Aaron & I would like to have children, but we are (gulp – it makes it seem too real to put into writing) infertile. We have suspected this for a while, and we were recently able to get a referral to a fertility specialist. As a result, I am now getting lots of tests done, including a boatload of blood-work. I will look like a junkie by the time this is all done. Some of the blood-work is very helpful, producing results like the diagnosis that I have low progesterone levels. Some of it is surprising, such as the revelation that I have no immunity to rubella (a.k.a. German measles). And some of it is pointless. Such as the blood-work I went to the lab for today. The medical powers that be require that I have tests run for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Since neither Aaron nor I were sexually active before we married, we know this is unnecessary. But our yes is not yes and our no is not no in the secular medical realm, so I get tested. For the third time in recent history, I visited the friendly folks at the phlebotomy lab on the fourth floor of a local medical building. Settling into the chair with the fancy armrests, I explain that my fertility specialist ordered some pre-conception blood-work. (I admit divulging this information to a complete stranger was motivated by fear of man; I wouldn’t want the lab tech to think I was a promiscuous lady actually at risk for HIV!) Since there were about 5 different tests that needed to be run on my blood, the gal drew three vials full from my right arm. No problem, a quick in and out visit. After all, I’m a pro at this stuff by now! I’ve graduated from queasily looking away from the needle to watching interestedly while my blood flows through the little tube into the collection cylinder. I left the lab and continued running the rest of the day’s errands.
A couple of hours later, I had gotten home and unloaded groceries when the phone rang. “Mrs. Patterson? This is Rhonda from the lab. I have some bad news for you.” My mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion – I have somehow mysteriously contracted HIV. Rhonda keeps speaking. “The requirements for some of the tests have changed recently, and I need more blood from you.” Is that all? No problem! How late are they open today? I’ll be there shortly. I make the quick drive back to the lab, ride the elevator up to the fourth floor, and find Rhonda, who cheerily takes 2 more vials of blood – “just to be sure we have enough this time!” – from my left arm. As I drove home for the second time, I decided to blog.
After thinking about whether or not I want to blog, and talking it over with Aaron, I’m ready to give it a try. I would like to journal more through this valley of infertility, and doing so online seems like as good a format as any. Plus, this way I can update friends and family about the process of treatments without having to repeat myself too many times. I hope that this does not become self-glorifying in any way, but that it will be a way to preach the gospel to myself in the middle of a trial and to give honor to God as an ongoing testimony-in-process.
Thanks for reading!
Yesterday, I had an experience that prompted me to think, “This would make a good blog entry.” Not too significant in and of itself, this experience tipped the scales in my mental debate of “to blog or not to blog.” What happened? Simply put, I had blood drawn. Twice. In one day. Five vials. (No, I did not pass out.) You see, Aaron & I would like to have children, but we are (gulp – it makes it seem too real to put into writing) infertile. We have suspected this for a while, and we were recently able to get a referral to a fertility specialist. As a result, I am now getting lots of tests done, including a boatload of blood-work. I will look like a junkie by the time this is all done. Some of the blood-work is very helpful, producing results like the diagnosis that I have low progesterone levels. Some of it is surprising, such as the revelation that I have no immunity to rubella (a.k.a. German measles). And some of it is pointless. Such as the blood-work I went to the lab for today. The medical powers that be require that I have tests run for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Since neither Aaron nor I were sexually active before we married, we know this is unnecessary. But our yes is not yes and our no is not no in the secular medical realm, so I get tested. For the third time in recent history, I visited the friendly folks at the phlebotomy lab on the fourth floor of a local medical building. Settling into the chair with the fancy armrests, I explain that my fertility specialist ordered some pre-conception blood-work. (I admit divulging this information to a complete stranger was motivated by fear of man; I wouldn’t want the lab tech to think I was a promiscuous lady actually at risk for HIV!) Since there were about 5 different tests that needed to be run on my blood, the gal drew three vials full from my right arm. No problem, a quick in and out visit. After all, I’m a pro at this stuff by now! I’ve graduated from queasily looking away from the needle to watching interestedly while my blood flows through the little tube into the collection cylinder. I left the lab and continued running the rest of the day’s errands.
A couple of hours later, I had gotten home and unloaded groceries when the phone rang. “Mrs. Patterson? This is Rhonda from the lab. I have some bad news for you.” My mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion – I have somehow mysteriously contracted HIV. Rhonda keeps speaking. “The requirements for some of the tests have changed recently, and I need more blood from you.” Is that all? No problem! How late are they open today? I’ll be there shortly. I make the quick drive back to the lab, ride the elevator up to the fourth floor, and find Rhonda, who cheerily takes 2 more vials of blood – “just to be sure we have enough this time!” – from my left arm. As I drove home for the second time, I decided to blog.
After thinking about whether or not I want to blog, and talking it over with Aaron, I’m ready to give it a try. I would like to journal more through this valley of infertility, and doing so online seems like as good a format as any. Plus, this way I can update friends and family about the process of treatments without having to repeat myself too many times. I hope that this does not become self-glorifying in any way, but that it will be a way to preach the gospel to myself in the middle of a trial and to give honor to God as an ongoing testimony-in-process.
Thanks for reading!
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