The Delivery Bed of Death
Language: en
On the icy delivery bed, I lay like a discarded ragdoll, my breath long gone. The nightmare began simply because my husband—the star of Memorial Hospital’s OB department—decided I was bullying his sweet nurse, Windy. “Windy isn’t your maid. What gives you the right to order her around? Being pregnant doesn’t mean you can act like a spoiled child!” His words pierced me like ice. I was trapped in endless contractions, screaming until my throat bled, even snapping the bed’s guardrail. A ten-pound baby was stuck in my pelvis. Drained, I begged the brilliant surgeon I called my husband: “This…