The Writers' Circle

An experiment based on an exercise on description. It's a scene. If anyone can help me on this one I would really appreciate it. Thank you!

               Zerlina screamed as Dannel and the doctors armed her to the bed in Room 214, her shrill voice seeming to grate the wall across form her. Hands tensed, arms taut, she pushed her abdomen, and from her cervix the pressure slipped from her, yet her legs-spread out-tingled the moment a bulb no larger than the width of her thumb crept forward. She screamed again. Louder. Again.
	In front of her Adabelle pulled the bulb inches at a time. "You got to hold on!"
                I can't!" Zerlina said. "I. I just can't!"
               Adabelle tugged the bulb. More inches this time. "Yes you can. Just gotta believe in yourself after all." She tugged again, and the bulb metamorphosed into a newbron's head. Almost got it, but a whiff of blood seemed to scrape and squeeze her stomach. Her vision fading, seeing two Zerlinas then one spinning separating into two again, Adabelle's arms quaked, an ocean of sweat waterfalling into mini puddles. From her face to her neck she reddened. While she huffed the moment her tricep twinged, tingled as if a poker branded it days-weeks ago-her eyes opened with such longing and stings from her sweatbrows they seemed to tear Zerlina's cloth; her nostrils blew bullishly they seemed to rot the beams and corrode the nails from their joints. "C'mon, come out!"
              The head doctor was scratched by Adabelle's aura-so much his eyes widened, and from what seemed like silence changed into a murmur of a heartbeat-his heartbeat. "Ar-Are you okay madam?" But his words only gripped the air the moment Aabelle tugged once more, arms taut yet flexible, her elbows now past her ribs.
               From Zermlina's cervix came a cry. She screamed, her back arching, her hands gripped her palms tight as a bear trap. One more push, then the pressure-gone. No tingle. Her abdomen ceased to move, and her back slumped on the sweat-drenched bed. She lifted her head, and in front of her stood Adabelle smiling, grasping a newborn--whose umbilical cord attached to his navel--crying in her hands and arms drenched in blood. Adabelle smiling. The newborn crying. Zerlina stared at them with such desire her lips quivered and her eyes seemed to caress and lubricate Adabelle and the newborn, then-twin waterfalls and a deluge of snot from her nostrils. Sunlight beamed through the crater-filled window and shined through her aura, producing to what some would view as an angel caressing her face and annointing her with Jesus' blood. Hic. Thank you... thank you Adabelle.
               From the instant her streams waterfalled, Dannel stepped to her side and dammed one stream with his finger, and the next moment, caressing his kitten's face. With his arms outstretched he embraced her, and their aura mixed, soothing the doctors and Adabelle's mind, even making some of the doctors cry. "We... we did it!" he whispered.
               Zerlina gazed at Adabelle, whose grin and glistening eyes dialed onto her. She grinned. Chuckles. More chuckles. "No... Adabelle did most of the work."
Dannel's eyes seemed to drenched Zerlina as her words embraced him. That's right, and with wistful compassion he bowed to Adabelle, tears dripping to the cloth. "Thank you! Just tell me anything and we'll do it for you."
	"Aaah, you don't have to do that," Adabelle said fanning her forehead. She handed the newborn to Zerlina. "So, what're going to name him?"	
                 "I. I don't know," Zerlina said, placing her finger on the newborn as he gripped it. Names came to her. One by one she refused each one coming to her mind. She smiled a few moments later and gazed at Adabelle. Her thought dialed into Adabelle's the instant they nodded. "Gunner. "Yeah. that's what I'll call him-Gunner."
	Adabelle ruffled her brown hair and smiled, her cheeks reddening than usual, her hair now painted with blood. But she didn't care. Gunner, huh? "That's perfect for him." And she paused and stared at the newborn. Hearts and minds synthesized into one. "Yeah... perfect."