The moment I passed out from blood loss. It happened about six hours after my son was born because the nurses didn’t realize I had hemorrhaged during delivery. I fell asleep after birthing him and awoke to nurses shaking my shoulders, and calling for more nurses to help. I heard them yelling to order me a blood transfusion. Someone put a pen in my hand and then grasped my right hand with their hand to force me to sign my name for a blood transfusion because I was too weak to sign my own name. I remember trying to mutter, “yes,” when they asked me if I consented to a blood transfusion. They returned to the room and told me there wasn’t an available blood unit in my type. There were no potential donors around me that were my type. My husband was O+. I’m O-. Neither of my parents are O-. My older sister isn’t O- either. They moved me to a wheelchair by lifting me from the bed. I was too weak to sit up, so I slumped over and fell on the floor of the hallway. The IV’s must have ripped from my arms. I remember everything becoming darker in my field of vision and then losing hearing. Everything just became quieter around me. I remember tears filling up my eyes as I though, “this can’t be happening. Oh my god, am I dying?” I woke up later in a recovery bed and was told I wasn’t allowed to leave the bed without nurses lifting me. My hemoglobin level was 4. It is supposed to be around 14. My parents were completely insensitive to the whole experience, even years later. When I mention it, my dad likes to argue, “who cares about blood type? What does blood type even matter?” I wish this man would have a medical emergency and not have an available blood donor. He’s O+, so it probably won’t happen. I hope he is surrounded by unsympathetic Jehovah’s Witnesses when he needs a blood transfusion. Oh, but whose blood is in demand when my local children’s hospital has newborns that are airlifted to them and in need of a blood transfusion? My type. I donate every day isn’t weeks so no one will ever have to experience the kind of trauma I did. By the way, their blood donor almost died from the child abuse inflicted by “dad”. No one cares. Get over it, right? Tell that to my old skull fractures, huh?