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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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Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. He is robust. He is fighting.”

“Where is the Chief of Obstetrics?” I demanded. My voice was no longer my own; it was a rasping, hollowed-out echo, stripped of all vulnerability.

The nurse averted her gaze, suddenly finding the linoleum floor fascinating. “Doctor Jenkins… he finalized your emergency laparotomy. Following continue reading …

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