September 21, 2025 
by M. Regina Cram
I was still chuckling as I left the Red Cross blood drive with my two younger children in tow. As I’d gathered our things, someone said, “I hear you have four small children. Why do you give blood?”
“Are you kidding?” I laughed. “When I donate, the volunteers feed me, they tell me I’m wonderful, and I get to put my feet up for 20 minutes. It’s a great deal!”’
Left unsaid was my other reason for giving, the reason that still chills me when I allow myself to remember.
It was supposed to be a routine childbirth. (Is there such a thing?) I was the picture of health, carrying my own suitcase up two flights of hospital stairs. But moments before birth, I suffered a rare, catastrophic Amniotic Fluid Embolism. Medical personnel flooded the room as the baby made her rapid appearance. Someone called a code, but I didn’t know what that meant. The last thing I remember was a panicked doctor hollering, “C’mon! We’re out of time!”
My husband, Peter, felt helpless as he heard the whispering voices in the corridor. “Extremely critical . . . need more blood . . . don’t think we can save her.”
I teetered on the precipice of eternity as doctors performed extreme emergency surgery without scrubbing. They told Peter I would not survive the night.
The most astounding event of my life occurred the next morning: I woke up. I was one of the 14% who survive this complication. It had taken eight doctors and 26 units of blood to save me.
A year and a day later, I became eligible to donate blood again, and I could scarcely contain my excitement. Somewhere out there were 26 people who had bared their arms, flinched for a brief moment, then watched (or didn’t watch) as a pint of their life’s blood was freely given. All they received in return were some kind words and a cup of coffee from Red Cross volunteers.
Those donors had to leave work early or miss dinner with the family or juggle a carpool schedule. They made the effort because they knew their pint of blood could make a difference, and maybe even save a life.
Mine is the life they saved. You’d never know it if you saw me, but their sacrifice made it possible for a young father to bring his wife home to grow old together; for four tiny children to grow up hearing the sounds of their mother’s laughter. Those donors didn’t just save a life. They saved a family.
So I gave blood, and my toddler and preschooler came to see if Mama’s blood was red, just like last time, or if this time it was green. They got Band-Aids on their arms, and stickers, and a glimpse of the gift of life.
We ate our cookies and drank our milk, and I left with a little less blood and a much fuller heart.
You see, when I give blood, all I feel is good.
The need for donated blood is constant. Make your appointment today by visiting redcrossblood.org.
M. Regina Cram is a published author and a parishioner of SS. Isidore and Maria Parish.
