Registered Imbecile

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the 17 year-old fuckstick behind the registry counter at babies.r.us, for helping to make our registering experience remarkably awful. Not only did you ridicule our choice to keep the sex of our unborn child a surprise, but you also managed to be completely useless in the mean-time. Well done, idiot. 

Okay, our experience wasn’t entirely awful. But you have to know me well enough by now that you understand my penchant for chastising stupid people. That is not to say that I never find myself in the position to feel completely useless and idiotic. Because I can be. And four years of infertility has helped make sure of that. You see, during those four years going anywhere near the vicinity of a baby-centric store brought forth so much pain that it was literally difficult to breathe. Hell, if I’m being honest, it sucked just to pass the baby food isle at the grocery store.  So I should have had some idea that after years of not needing said products, on top of years of avoiding them, that it would pretty much guarantee that I’d know JACK SHIT about any of it now that the time has come that I actually do need it. Jack. Shit. 

The evening started off by me almost completely losing it while filing out the one page questionnaire to get our registry started. 

Registrants Name: Melissa G. 

Co-Registrants Name: Brian awesomely supportive, even when his wife proves yet again to be bat-shit crazy, G.

Event date: Cue unrelenting tears. 

So I made it through the rest of the questionnaire and seven isles and 83 minutes later we had to stop because I couldn’t wrap my head around the magnitude of it all anymore. It was like complete and utter sensory overload. On top of that I have never felt so uninformed as a consumer. I knew almost absolutely nothing about the products. Who was reputable, and which products were worth the extra money? Do I need to sterilize the bottles? If so, why do they sell drying wracks? How come some have straws and some have bags? I’d done research on the basics like strollers and car seats, but I know nothing of baby monitors or what makes one diaper bag more useful than the other.  Imagine going to Home Depot for the very first time and being asked to compile all the parts in order to build a water heater from scratch. And if you don’t do it right, your peers will laugh at you and also, it proves you’re going to be a bad mother. 

We went two different times, and I left there more cross-eyed each time. Thank god for my best friend, Teresa. She has three boys. So she knows. And she’s going to make it all better. Because otherwise? I’m not going back.

No Refunds

I went in to the Blood Centers of the Pacific this morning for my first donation of Whole Blood. The appointment moved rather quickly once I got through the paperwork. They took my blood pressure, checked my iron and sent me over to the comfy lounge chairs where I began my donation. I barely got situated and into my book before the delicate chimes began and they told me I was all done. I couldn't believe how quickly it was all over. They asked me to stay in the chair for a few minutes and then escorted me to the cafeteria area. I had my choice of several juices, and a basket full of high calorie sugary and salty treats. I picked up my book where I had left off when suddenly, I noticed the lights dimming. I mentioned to the girl next to me that I was feeling a little light headed and the next thing I know there were four people in lab coats standing over me, calling my name, and placing cold compresses on my neck and forehead.

Literally the last thing I remember was struggling to tell a stranger I wasn't feeling well, and the stranger telling me she'd see if she could get somebody. Apparently when she came back, she and a lab tech found me slumped over in my chair still holding my cup of juice. (Thank god I didn't fall out of my chair and crack my skull open or something!) So they pulled me out of my chair and laid me down on the floor. Once I came to they helped me remove my jacket as I was sweating profusely. While I laid there, staring into the florescent lighting I watched people silently scurrying around me. Turning on a portable fan, to help with my sweating. Setting up a privacy screen, which I sort of think was more to shield me from scaring off other new donors, rather than to save what was left of my pride. They took my blood pressure again, which apparently was disturbingly lower than when I came in.

I laid there for almost an hour while they continued to check my blood pressure every 15 minutes. The one tech who stayed with me was very kind, but needlessly honest. When I was finally lucid enough to begin feeling embarrassed I asked him if my incident happened often and he didn't hesitate to tell me no. That in fact it didn't happen very often at all. Just then another donor poked his head in and told me he threw up in his own lap after his first donation, which he thought was much more embarrassing than passing out in a chair. Although I have to agree with him, it was not so easy to accept while I was still laying on the checkered linoleum.

After some questioning it was determined that I had not drank or eaten enough before I came in. As well as the fact that my donation went faster than it should have. Probably because I was a little nervous. They said they like to see a pint withdrawn in about 7 - 10 minutes. Mine only took four. Just an unfortunate combination of circumstances, I suppose.

They finally were able to get me to sit up enough so they could transfer me to a bench I could lay down on. Shortly after that someone called Brian to come pick me up. There was no way they were going to let me drive home, and I wasn't about to disagree with them. When Brian came in, he looked down and smiled and asked the tech how many gallons they took. He told him it was just the one pint, but that they didn't offer refunds. Deposits only, he said smiling and cautiously laughing.

They helped Brian walk me and my things out to his truck, and told him to take me across the street to IN and OUT to get some fries with extra salt and a milk shake. They asked me to eat frequently for the rest of the day, especially foods rich and salt and to drink plenty of liquids, like water and juice.

I spent the rest of the day in bed, watching movies and debating whether or not I would blog about my fun filled day. I decided that it would be best to post about it so that anyone else who might be considering donating, would know to gorge themselves before heading off to a clinic. Even if the moron receptionist they spoke to a week before said there was nothing in particular they needed to do to prepare before coming in to donate for the very first time, EVER.