After a Complicated Labor, a Nurse Handed Me My Baby and Whispered, ‘Watch the Video I Sent You Before You Trust Your Husband’
I thought surviving a difficult labor would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to endure. I had no idea the real nightmare would begin only after I opened my eyes.
At 38 weeks pregnant, I couldn’t walk past the nursery door without smiling. Everything about my pregnancy had gone right. Two heartbeats, two perfect scans, and two names picked out and stitched onto matching little blankets that my sister, Rachel, had sent.
I was a graphic designer on maternity leave, and our suburban home felt as if it were holding its breath.
Everything about my pregnancy had gone right.
My husband, Ryan, worked in finance and had been, by every visible measure, the doting father-to-be. He rubbed my feet at night. He’d assembled the second crib on a Saturday in April after I’d asked him about it for three weeks straight. And he’d done it with his jaw set the whole time, as if he were doing taxes.
My friends kept telling me I’d hit the jackpot.
“You picked a good one,” Rachel said on the phone one night.
