A nurse comes into my room on the first night in the high-risk ward. She is chatty and high-pitched and from Bulgaria. She puts a large rubber mat under me. I look at her questioningly. She shrugs and says, “It’s so strange with placenta previas. Always with previas, it happens in the middle of the night! You hear the alarm go off, you come into the room, and the woman is just sitting there and the entire bed is soaked in blood! It’s dripping all over the floor! Goodnight!” She gives me a cheery smile at the door. I turn to look at David, who has set up a camping mat on the floor. My eyes are
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