A little less than two weeks passed, and on Friday, November 8, I stood at work in a bustling operating room during a routine cesarean section. I had arrived at the hospital a few hours earlier, once again brandishing a white test stick that undeniably displayed the faintest blush of early pregnancy.
My heart was of course skipping in gratitude, but my body felt weak, bloated, and uncomfortable. In a lot of pain and feeling worse by the hour, I actually feared I might collapse at one point during the short surgery while I tried to stay focused on my patient and her newborn baby. Working around women in all stages of discomfort, and some who are enduring flat-out agony, somehow diminishes timid complaints of a bloated and painful belly. I managed to finish my shift and gratefully collapsed into my waiting bed when I returned home.
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