“What will happen to the other baby?”
“I would remain in foster care until another family was found.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Days?”
“I don’t know.”Watch The Space
“Weeks?”
The nurse looked down.
“Possibly more.”
Something inside me broke.
Suddenly I pictured one of my daughters being taken out of the hospital in the arms of someone else while her sister remained there.
One going home.
The other waiting.
One growing up with photographs, birthdays and Christmas mornings.Locate Medical Centers
The other somewhere else, possibly never knowing that she had come into the world with a sister who once slept a few inches from her.
My car keys fell out.
They hit the pavement with a loud metallic sound.
“Take me back.”
The nurse looked at me.
“What?”
“Take me back with them.”
We run.
When we got to the maternity plant, I felt my lungs burning.
My husband, Brian, was standing near the nurses’ desk.
As soon as he saw me, an expression of relief appeared on his face.
“I thought you were gone.”
I barely looked at him.
“Where are they?”
“Who?”
I stared at it.
“Our daughters.”
His expression changed.
He pointed to the newborn room.
I opened the doors.
And there they were.
Two little cribs.
One next to the other.
For the first time since the doctor had spoken those terrifying words, I stopped thinking about everything that could happen twenty years from now.
I looked at what was happening at the same time.
One of the babies was sleeping.Review Articles Maternity
The other was awake, with her little wrinkled face moving under the blanket.
I walked over.
“Do you want this one?” I whispered.
The nurse came in behind me.
“To Baby A.”
I looked at the card placed in the crib.
Then I looked at the other one.
Baby B.
Two clinical labels.
Like they’re not sisters.
Like they’re not mine.
Then Baby A stretched one of her tiny arms toward the edge of the crib.
His little fingers opened and closed in the air.
Baby B moved beside her.
