"Contraction number seven, sir. She's close," she yelled to the doctor down the hall. "There might be small complication, but we can handle it!" My breathing sped up as they moved me to the cot, setting me down gently before sticking needles in me for fluid loss, an epidural, and vitals like my heartbeat.
143 BPM. That's how many times my heart beat per minute. As I continued, the beeps sped up-149, 152,160,168,170. The doctors were getting worried, I could sense it. Suddenly I hit a larger pain, more than I have ever experienced. I cried out, screaming in pain. "Okay Callu"gn, Scott, and Barbara, go get the surgery equipment. We need to perform a C-section," the doctor demanded, pushing her hair back underneath her cap. She ran to my face, wiping me of sweat. "Don't worry, we'll get your
