“You’ll suffer naturally because you’re toxic,” my doctor husband sneered, blocking the nurses from performing a C-section for my giant 10-pound baby as revenge for his intern. I writhed in pain, clutching the bed rails until my knuckles turned white. When the grueling delivery finally ended, the heavy delivery room doors banged open. My husband staggered in, his face drained of color as he looked at the newborn chart, fell to the floor, and shrieked, “No… that’s impossible! Whose child is-“
of stainless-steel Simpson forceps onto the metal tray, the violent clatter echoing off the tiled walls.
The surrounding medical staff flinched, but Bradley didn’t even grant me the dignity of a glance. His attention, instead, drifted to the petite, doe-eyed young woman hovering perilously close to my bedside. Clad in flawlessly tailored nursing scrubs continue reading …
