Learning to Cry Read Online Free

those beeping monitors must have chirped differently. The nurse then called the doctor into the room to take a look. It is a little odd how few people are ever around while a woman is in the pre-stages of the birthing procedure. A nurse pops in now and then, but for the most part the parents are on their own. Now with the doctor in the room, and the nurse looking over her shoulder, it made us wonder if we were about to be propelled down another bad path.
    The doctor piled some goo onto Cheryl’s stomach, so she could take a peek inside to see what that stubborn little kid was doing. She looked from the monitor to us, then to me, specifically, and, then, back to the monitor. Her expressionless face was suddenly contorted into a frown, and I felt my heart sinking a little. What the hell could possibly go wrong now? The doctor informed us that she had not felt the need for a sonogram this morning since she had done one just last night, when we were admitted. She had injected the standard dosage of Pitocin that morning to induce labor, but apparently the baby had flipped in the middle of the night and was now breech. A physical exam confirmed this, as well. There didn’t seem to be a head where a head was supposed to be.
    The issue mounted – the preeclampsia, the low platelets, the baby being breech. All of this added up to a C-section, and it had to happen quickly. The baby was showing severe signs of stress, and the doctor was also worried the umbilical cord might be wrapped around her neck.
    Jesus, this was too much. We just wanted a healthy baby. Why couldn’t we be one of those couples who get wheeled in through the door, complain a little about the food, and stroll out a day later holding a beautiful new addition to the family. Our parents weren’t even here. They were out of state thinking the damn little thing wasn’t due for a few weeks.
    In the fleeting moments I had attempted to gather my thought patterns, the room filled with people. The doctor must have pushed that damn button again because we went from the four of us to no less than 10 white-coated hospital staff in less than a few seconds. When the doctor said now, she meant right the hell now. People were grabbing things, poking places, opening doors, and walls were moving. It was as if I were in the middle of a transformer and witnessing, firsthand, the massive intricacies that occur when the truck becomes a living, talking robot.
    As quickly as everyone had entered the room, they dissipated, and the area was evacuated. It is an odd feeling standing in the middle of a hospital room by myself having just witnessed an emergency. It was just a few minutes before when I had first heard the word breech. Now I was left facing a closed door, alone in the room.  I couldn’t breathe again. I felt claustrophobic, isolated, and suddenly very, very alone in the world. At that moment, a nurse poked her head in and said, “We will let you know as soon as the procedure is complete.”
    Procedure? What the hell was that? I didn’t even know what was happening. I stood there for a few minutes by myself and, then, tentatively pushed open the door. As I walked out, someone told me to wait in the recovery area. My eyes followed the masked woman’s bony right finger as she pointed down the hall.  I floated in that direction, having lost feeling in my body. My legs were working, back and forth, but they seemed to be moving by themselves. I felt like looking around and seeing if a puppet master were holding a remote control and asking him what he would make me do next.
    Before I digested the entire situation, a nurse poked her head in, and told me to come with her. I was still dazed, not understanding completely, but apparently about 20 minutes had elapsed since the mass exodus. I followed her, as any good dog capable of basic bodily navigation but incapable of higher-level thinking would do. I moved forward to a row of beds and saw Cheryl laying in one with her head