The room, which had felt like a sanctuary of anticipation moments earlier, suddenly transformed into a space of clinical coldness. The young doctor’s hands, which had been steady when he first greeted me, were now trembling slightly as he pulled his stethoscope away from my abdomen. The way he and his colleagues exchanged those hushed, frantic glances made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My breath caught in my throat, not from the discomfort of the impending labor, but from the crushing weight of their confusion.
“What do you mean?” I managed to ask, my voice sounding thin and fragile against the hum of the hospital monitors. “Is the baby in distress? Please, just tell me if my child is okay.”
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