I hate needles.

But I'm going to have to learn to love tolerate them starting in November up until Baby #2 arrives.
I have to back up just a bit.  I have a condition called neutropenia, which means I've been basically walking around with very little white blood cells in my body for about a year.  Doctors discovered I had it during my sixth month of pregnancy with Lucy when a blood test I had came back showing a dangerously low level of white cells.
Most of the time, as my doctor puts it, neutropenics are "created" during chemotherapy, because chemo tends to kill white blood cells in the process.
Since I'm so special (not) after a bone marrow biopsy (which suuuucked), various other tests and having my blood sent off to the Mayo Clinic, it was discovered that I have an antibody that takes my white blood cells out of commission.  My immunologist described it as police only pulling over all of the white cars on the highway, and ignoring all of the other cells.
There isn't really much they can do to treat me for it, and I'm pretty healthy despite this.  I rarely get sick.  
The problem is, I passed the antibody on to Lucy before she was born, and it not only attacked her white cells, but her platelets, too.  This left her at a high risk for bleeding out, so at two hours old she had one of two platelet transfusions, as well as other medications to help flush the antibody out of her system.
Well, I'm pregnant again, and I still have the lovely antibody hanging out in my system.
In order to prevent Baby #2 from having all of his/her platelets and white blood cells depleted before he/she is born, a treatment plan has been in the works since I let the doctor know I'm pregnant.
There's a medication called intravenous immunoglobulin that will essentially put a shield around the antibodies, preventing them from doing any harm to our unborn child.
Which means I get to go hang out at the infusion clinic at Kaiser once a week, receiving the medication through an IV.
Honestly, I'm thrilled.  Can't you tell?!  I'm accepting visitors, since each treatment is going to be up to four hours long.
I friggin' hate IV's.  I've come to accept blood draws.  But IV's?  Ugh.
There's also a chance that if they have a hard time sticking me each week, I'll get something called a PICC line, which is just a friendly way to saying long friggin' tube that goes from my wrist, snaked up a vein until it gets close to my heart, and stays there for a few weeks.  Dear God, Lucy, just don't rip mommy's PICC line out.