Peyton's p.o.v
"1..2..3..4..5" The doctor and his nurses count as if its doomsday. They pull and tug at my big swollen belly. Contractions seize my body, but no baby pops out. I think
the baby is stuck. Heart wrenching screams echo my mental and emotional distress. I dig my fingernails into Lucas' palms. Worried, Lucas just stares at the clock. He wonders
how long my suffering will last? I fear I might die giving birth to our daughter whose name will be Lucky Haley Scott. Therefore, I prepare myself for the worst outcome. Lucas'
encouraging words motivate me to keep on pushing through the pain.