In high school, I was that peppy go-getter that was in a bunch of clubs, including the Student Council. And, as part of the Student Council, I was in charge of organizing the blood drive. So we got it all set up and, after doing whatever it is that made me in charge, I hopped up on the table to make my donation. And, although it's not the most pleasant thing to have a needle in your arm, I did fine.
Until I stood up. I took two steps and said, "I can't see anything." Although I was still conscious and could hear everything, I had blacked out. Which led to a red alert that involved throwing me onto a stretcher, force feeding me cups of orange juice and making me lay still for an hour before I was allowed to stand up only with an American Red Cross worker on either side of me.
That led to years of feeling dizzy and lightheaded in doctor's offices, and the realization that I will never be a blood donor. Seriously. I tried. I even got as far as going into a blood drive once before the smell alone made me lightheaded. Also, my poor brother, laying in the chair after waking up from wisdom teeth surgery, once had to tell me to put my head between my knees and breathe deep to keep me from passing out (and that was from the nurse just talking about blood!)
My history of being a total wimp when it comes to needles was brought back to me this morning when the Pretend Husband and I had blood work done in order to get life insurance. The nurse made me lie on the couch to have the blood drawn and took all sorts of extra precautions.
So I'm thinking the only way I'm going through childbirth is if they can pump me full of drugs without using a needle. Is that asking too much?