Don’t believe the horror stories. My glucose drink tasted exactly like slightly flat orange soda, something I’m sure Tiny E will be happy to drink in large quantities if he’s anything like his father. I also had a lab tech-in-training who was so afraid of stabbing me with a needle that she barely poked through my skin and it took five minutes to fill four vials. I find out Thursday if I have gestational diabetes (I doubt it), and will probably get another shot of Rhogam in the backside – as long as the tech remembered to mark my file correctly. I hate to think the worst of people but no matter how many times I said “I already had one shot, so my bloodwork might come back Rh+. I’m supposed to have more Rhogam made anyways, but the hospital may not know that if you don’t write it down” her best response was “How do you spell Rogaine?”

Less than 5 hours until birthing class. I feel like I’m going on a blind date with the other couples enrolled in the class, since these are the people who a) will have children almost the same age and b) live nearby, making them potential friends.

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