A living baby, a new heart beats, and terror unfolds

Okay readers. Sorry I've been kinda incognito lately.  I've been on hibernation vacation for the past few days.

So lets continue on with the watered down- bullet point life story.
So I'm laying in a hospital bed, blind from over-high blood pressure, and a singular thought pounds into my mind with every bump of my pulse. "dead baby, dead baby, dead baby."

I'm having mild hallucinations of a grotesque baby corpse exiting my body old school and planning my heroic stand off with nurses to hold him for days.
Its really quite horrific. But you can't control your own mind.

Soon I'm rushed into the OR. head swimming from delightful drugs.  Belly tumbling from a mixture or said delightful drugs and a turkey club.
My mother goes into the OR with me.  A nurse asked me to hug her while another administers the spinal block. 

Fast forward one horrific half hour and my mother is spattered in partially digested turkey and I'm listening to the doctor commentate the procedure of doing a hip bone to hip bone c section extraction when the baby swims up too far. 

And suddenly a relief washed over me. My baby swam up. A dead baby doesn't swim. My baby was ALIVE. A love filled me that I had never felt before. One that I didnt believe I could feel. 

A few morphine coma moments passed with patchy memories and dreamy recollections. My mother crying and smiling, a nurse urging me to look right for a quick peek at the tiny still orange infant and the bleak silence of not hearing that "I'm a healthy baby" cry. 

And again with the push of morphine I was out again. 

I awoke in my hospital room with my brother next to me. Absently clicking away on some handheld gaming system. I silently stared at my mother in the corner. With tear filled eyes she said "he's beautiful". I croaked "alive?"  She just nodded, a quick flash of worry in her eyes. 

Soon they rolled a big glass box into the room containing a tiny (3 pound) orange fuzzy little old man. Wires and hoses plugged into his tiny body. His eyes taped shut, still and unmoving. The only indication of life was the monotone beeping of the many monitor screens attached to his box. 

I filled with dread. My heart shook. My mind raced. I felt my heart breaking. For this child who had morphine before milk. 

Who would soon ride in a helicopter before he rode in a car.