Personal Narrative: A Day At The Hospital

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4:30 a.m. the phone buzzes on the corner of my bed. Squinting at the color I.D. it was my sister desperately telling me to wake up. I hung up and immediately fell back asleep, but the phone rang again immediately; once again, it was my sister calling. This time she was stricter, telling me she was in the hospital. I quickly gathered my things, and within the next 10 minutes, I was on my way. I promptly arrived at the hospital. My hands slid off the sweaty steering wheel as my feet roughly acquainted themselves with the pavement in the parking lot. Arriving at the doors of the hospital, I felt the pulsing of my blood racing through my veins. Bustling to the elevator, I could feel the air wafting me in the face, like a frank train slamming into my body. The tension in the air was so thick that I was suffocating in quicksand. Meeting up with my mom and dad, I could see that they were equally anxious and nervous for their daughter and our family. I walked into my sister’s room -- the unmistakable hospital aroma tearing away my lungs. Her floor was overflowing with screams of agony, disbelief and horror. I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing my sister carrying this massive basketball around for nine months. Being sisters who never spent more than a …show more content…

I had always heard that the physical and emotional pain of giving birth is altogether monstrous and pretty disgusting, but that it is always quickly replaced by the serenity of hearing your newborn test out their lungs for the first time right in your arms. When the high of birth finally started to descend, I glanced around the room. Seeing all the women in my family come together and see what the most painful experience of a woman’s life is, but knowing we experienced it for the first time together making our bond that much more

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