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“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-“

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“If you applied a fraction of this melodrama toward your pelvic floor, the fetus would be delivered. Keep pushing.”

He initiated a brutally invasive manual extraction, tearing unmercifully through my most delicate tissues. Finally, a weak, wet, gurgling wail pierced the heavy air of the suite.

“It’s… it’s a boy,” a nurse gasped out, but the relief on continue reading …

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