Then her expression shifted to something pitiful. "Though I've heard epidurals and C-sections can affect the baby. For Cooper's sake, I gritted my teeth and pushed through it all on my own."
Ivan scoffed. "Who's giving her an epidural? My son was perfectly well-behaved. No drugs, no interventions—smooth natural delivery."
Pride dripped from every word. A flicker of jealousy passed through Glenda's eyes.
By then, my consciousness was slipping. In the last moment before everything went dark, all I saw was Glenda pulling him toward the door.
Despair—absolute, bottomless despair—crashed over me.
When I opened my eyes again, the sharp sting of antiseptic filled my nostrils.
A wave of pain tore through my lower body, and I groaned before I could stop myself. Then someone seized my hand and held on tight.
"Stella!!"
Mom. Dad.
My mother's usually immaculate hair was in disarray, her eyes swollen and raw. The moment she saw me awake, her voice cracked. "Stella, it's okay. It's going to be okay..."
It took me a beat to register what was happening. I was on a hospital bed, being rushed down a corridor toward the operating room.
"Doctor, the patient is hemorrhaging!"