Everything was going wrong that could fucking go wrong today.

First, Juliana didn’t show any signs of labor. At fucking all. We didn’t even know she was in labor until her goddamn water broke on the stairs.

When we got to the hospital, she was eight fucking centimeters dilated. There was no time for an epidural. Her window to get it had passed.

Now, the baby was breeched. They were going to try to deliver vaginally, but the baby had gotten the cord wrapped around her neck. An emergency c-section had to be done.

And Juliana was panicking.

“Baby, breathe,” I told her, trying to remain soothing. I was just...