regression

From about the age of twelve to the time I was about six months pregnant with Malcolm, I was a little bit queasy around needles.

Okay.

Fine.

A LOT bit queasy around needles!

Given a vaccine or simple shot of any kind and I'd get all woozy and pass out. Forget about drawing blood for any purpose ... That would require rest and time to recuperate for the rest of the day!

I guess the mass amounts of poking and prodding during my pregnancy sort of snapped me out of it. By the time I was giving sixteen vials of my precious blood for prenatal tests, I had it down. I didn't even have to lay down anymore. I could sit in the blood-draw chair like a normal person, get my blood taken, and then get up and walk right out.

No more sitting hunched over with my head between my knees.

No more nervous babbling to try and keep my mind away from the possibility of fainting.

It was great.

So, when we had to have a nurse stop by our house for our life insurance "check ups," I was confident: I've given birth! Of course I can give a couple vials of blood!

My husband, on the other hand, was a little less enthusiastic.

His last run-in with a needle was not a pleasant one: He had had a nurse-in-training stick him multiple times (missing his vein) and then cause blood to literally shoot out of the injection site. Needless to say, he panicked and passed out.

He was certain that this time would be more of the same ... Fainting was in the cards.

He was right.

Sort of.

Someone passed out.

But it wasn't him.

Yes, yes, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar-I-could-give-blood-all-day-and-not-even-blink got woozy the second that needle entered my arm. I put my head down, thinking I'd be okay and that the nauseous feeling would pass, but when I didn't remember the wet washcloth being obtained and set down on the back of my neck, I knew I had regressed.

I had fainted.

My streak was over.

How embarrassing!

It bothers me that I had (finally!) gotten to the point where I was unaffected by giving blood and now I'm right back to square one.

On one hand, I want another chance to prove that I can do it ... Take more blood from me! I won't faint this time!

On the other, I'm afraid that I'm doomed to be that person again. The one that needs to lay down and then stay there for ten minutes post draw. The one that needs to fill the air with nervous chit-chat. The one that the nurses probably laugh about as soon as she leaves the room ... She's given birth! How can see be afraid of a little needle?

I guess we will see what the future holds.

Maybe it will take a couple more kids to kick this fainting habit ...

I'm pretty sure our parents wouldn't have a problem with that!