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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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the Chief of ER, I carried it incessantly to dictate rapid-fire trauma notes. Throughout the entirety of my horrific delivery, it had remained tucked securely inside the breast pocket of my hospital gown.

I depressed the playback button with my thumb.

“Terminate the epidural infusion. Restrain her extremities. We are concluding this extraction now! … continue reading …

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