If I were pregnant in Port Charles, I would...I would be seriously upset, because odds are that Sonny would be the father of my child, even if we had never slept together, because the only real skill he seems to have is fathering children. Anyway, if I were pregnant in Port Charles, I'd go on bedrest almost immediately because everything on the planet is a danger for pregnant women in this town. Stairs? DEADLY. Inclement weather? KILLER. Dr. Lee? DANGEROUSLY INCOMPETENT.
Any reasonable woman knows this and, during a huge rainstorm, would simply call 911 at the first sight of drizzle and request to be taken to General Hospital just in case. Tea, clearly, doesn't know any better because she's just a visitor (and based on the sounds she makes, might not even be human at all. What were those noises? How can a person's vocal cords do that? I was mystified), but Sam? Sam should know! Sam should have parked herself in the GH waiting room in, like, January and refused to leave. Actually, scratch that--she should have parked herself in the Mercy Hospital waiting room and refused to leave, because then at least she wouldn't be grappling with Kelly. Fools, fools, fools!
Because of this foolishness, Tea and Sam found themselves giving birth in the most dangerous and unsanitary ways possible, each aided by a man noticeably lacking any sort of medical training, while a vengeful and ever-nutty. Heather Webber meanders around town accompanied by a corpse and dressed like she's living out her own version of I Know What You Did Last Summer. And they will soon find themselves in the midst of that soap staple: the baby switch story. I mean, right? We have a(-nother) dead/dying baby and a live baby whose mother is being targeted by a vengeful crazy. CLEARLY, we are in for some shenanigans and a whole lot of sadness on the part of Sam McCall.
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