How to survive a C-Section: part 2

As I looked around the OR at all the different medical staff hovering over my body trying to catch a glimpse at the gory cesarean being performed I began to cry. Pictures of my little garbanzo bean, Lily Evelyn, we're flickering across the OR ceiling. I've been waiting 9 months & 28 hours for her to be in my arms. Why am I being put through all this? woman labor for less then 13 hours and then 10 min later they push their baby out. Why can't I experience that? Why was I being robbed of my beloved experience?
Before I knew it I awoke again. I was still shaking and my teeth were so sore. "when are you going to be done?" I asked my doctor hesitantly.
Suddenly I felt the worst sensation in the world. It didn't hurt because the drugs I was on but i could feel every bit of pressure from them pulling on my skin, stretching my lower abdomen open. And at last I felt this wave, like an ocean wave hitting you in the face. Like the drop on a roller coaster. I felt like this weight was lifted off my chest. I didn't hear a scream but I knew they had gotten her out of me. I cried out and demanded to see her. I saw her go a quick second and they rushed her over to the table 5 feet away from me. That was extremely too far! I haven't been that far away from her in 9 months. They need to give her to me, I thought. My mom let go of my hand to go take a peak at her granddaughter but ultimately (as I later found out) to block my view of the machines they were hooking my daughter up to.
I lifted my arms off the table and tried pushing myself up. I was ready to see my daughter. "are we done here?" I asked, my eyes glued on my daughter.
"No, about 30 more minutes. I have to close you up." my doctor replies and I rested my head down.
"my heart Is beating too fast!" I exclaimed. "I need to get out of here!"
Everyone kept reassuring me that I was okay but I felt like I was going to die. I couldn't breathe. I felt like someone had injected an overdose of speed into my heart. My heart rate was in fact decreasing. The last thing I saw before I passed out was that bright light. I couldn't believe that this was how the magical day my daughter was born had turned out.