I looked down at the baby.
“I hope you are.”
I hated that part of me was afraid to hold her too closely.
“I stared right at it.”
“I know.”
“The nurse saw it too.”
“I know.”
The baby made a small squeaking sound and tucked her chin against me.
I hated that part of me was afraid to hold her too closely.
Then Denise turned to the delivery nurse.
A few minutes later, the charge nurse arrived with the nurse who had been in the delivery room.
The charge nurse introduced herself as Denise.
“Tell me what happened.”
Caleb did.
He described the birthmark and where he had seen it.
Then Denise turned to the delivery nurse.
The woman looked from Caleb to me.
“Do you remember the mark?”
The woman looked from Caleb to me.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat seemed to stop.
“Where was it?” Denise asked.
“Left side. Near the collarbone.”
No one spoke for a second.
“Did she leave this room?”
Denise checked the band without removing it, then checked the information in the chart.
“Did she leave this room?” I asked.
“For routine assessment,” the delivery nurse said.
“Where?”
“Down the hall.”
Denise’s expression changed slightly.
“It was busy. I’d have to check the log.”
“Were there other newborns there at the time?”
The nurse hesitated.
“One other, I think.”
Denise looked at her.
“You think?”
“It was busy. I’d have to check the log.”
Denise stepped into the hallway.
Ten minutes later, Denise returned with an administrator.
Through the partly open door, I heard her say, “Nobody moves either infant until we verify everything.”
Either infant.
Caleb heard it too.
He sat down beside me.
“There’s another one,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
Ten minutes later, Denise returned with an administrator.
I looked at the baby sleeping against me.
“There was another baby girl in the assessment area,” Denise said. “She was born shortly after your daughter.”
“Where is she?” Caleb asked.
“With her parents.”
“Do they know?”
“We’re speaking with them now.”
I looked at the baby sleeping against me.
“The band on this infant matches your records.”
“And the bands?”
“The band on this infant matches your records.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
Denise paused.
“No. It doesn’t.”
The administrator began explaining that they needed to review the transfer records, but I barely heard him.
The door opened behind him.
“Bring the other parents here,” I said.
“We need their consent before—”
The door opened behind him.
A woman stood there in a hospital gown, gripping the wheelchair armrests. Her husband was behind her, holding a bundled newborn.
“I told you something was wrong,” she said to him.
He looked shaken.
Marissa looked at me.
“I know.”
