Sixteen hours of labor and the baby is in fetal distress. Running doctors push my hospital bed into the white, white room; the baby is dying. Needles in my back, my arm, and the drugs flow while I float as they cut my body to pull out my beautiful, pure child. "A blonde haired boy!" the doctor says. "Blonde hair?" I joke in the haze of exhaustion and drugs. Everyone laughs but his dark-haired dad, who stops smiling and instead stares at me with the dead eyes of a shark.