“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-“
her face instantly drained into a mask of chalky horror. “Doctor Jenkins, her pressure is bottoming out! We have a massive hemorrhage! I suspect a complete uterine rupture!”
A catastrophic deluge of arterial blood cascaded off the edge of the operating table, pooling on the linoleum in a rapidly expanding crimson lake. The fetal heart monitor transitioned continue reading …