“No. We wish to continue.”
“Very well. As I was saying, once we learned of the two babies being switched at birth, we interviewed all of the medical staff on duty. After we spoke with Melissa Simms, who was the only R.N. and charge nurse on that day, she broke down and started to cry. She admitted to hearing voices that told her to switch the babies. After extensive interviews and testing, none of her co-workers admitted to knowing or suspecting that anything was wrong or different about her. Miss Simms said she knew it was wrong, but the voices were persistent and even threatened her if she didn’t switch the girls.”
“And no one suspected that she was behaving strangely?” I ask.
“No, no one,” Mr. Morrow says.
I look to each of the men sitting at the table who are representing the hospital and ask, “Had she been diagnosed with mental health issues prior to this?”
“No, she was never diagnosed with anything until after this,” Mr. Blake confirms.
“How many other infants did she swap?” Drake asks a little too loudly. “Surely, someone suffering from undiagnosed and untreated psychiatric issues for who knows how long…”
“This is the only case that we can find. We have done DNA on more children and parents than I care to mention. This is the only case,” Mr. Crawford says honestly.
“I hope so,” Chelsea says, softly and sadly. “I hope that no other family has to go through this.” I look over at her and she is twirling Madison’s hair around her fingers. I never saw what Jamie looked like, but Madison looks like Leah, except she has long hair. She also looks like Bobby. “Is she getting help?” Chelsea asks.
“She was committed to the Florida State Hospital where she was receiving treatment for schizophrenia.”
Drake asks, “How do you plan on fixing this?”
Mr. Crawford clear his throat and says, “The hospital is prepared to offer each family a lump sum of money…”
“Jesus, you do realize it’s not about the money. Don’t you?” Drake asks.
Before anyone can say anything, Chelsea says, “My husband is correct. This has nothing to do with the money. How do you plan on fixing this… mess?”
Mr. Blake adjusts his tie nervously and says, “We were hoping each family would agree on…”
“Some mutual bullshit terms? Where we all share the children and live happily ever after? This isn’t a damn book with unicorns and fairy godmothers. Real life isn’t like that. You can’t mix up children and think it will fix itself, or believe that we’ll swap them back and everyone is happy,” Drake interrupts and I have to agree. It looks like he is trying to maintain his anger and he’s losing the battle. I watch as he stands and his wife and daughter stand with him. He adds, “Sadly, one child is dead. Madison is ours, and she will always be ours. I don’t give a fuck what your DNA says.” He turns to leave and his family follows. Before he walks out the door, he says, “Reed, if they don’t agree on our terms, then terminate this meeting.” He follows his wife and daughter out the door and slams it behind him.
I look around the table expecting to see someone from the hospital end the meeting, when Mr. Reed, the attorney for the Sinclairs, says, “As you can imagine, my client is very upset by this. They aren’t willing to part with their daughter, Madison.”
I run my fingers over my lips and across my jaw. I get a text and it’s from Bobby.
I say, “Just a moment, please. This is about Leah’s contractions and it cannot wait.”
Bobby: Leah’s contractions aren’t stopping.
Bruce: What do you need me to do?
Bobby: Pray.
Bruce: What floor are you on?
Bobby: Third, I called our parents. They are on their way.
Bruce: Be there shortly.
I put my phone away and say, “I’m sorry. It looks like Leah’s contractions are getting stronger. We’ll need to reschedule this meeting for a later date.” I stare at the stack of gifts and say, “These are for Madison. Would you please see that she gets them?” I slide them over to their attorney, Mr. Reed. I also remove the envelope from inside my suit jacket and hand it to him. “Please see that Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair get these.”
“I will, thank you.”
“They also brought this for…” he stops mid-sentence.
“For Jamie. Her name was Jamie. Thank you and I’ll see that Leah and Bobby get it,” I say as I stand up and when no one says anything, I add, “I’ll be in touch and let you know when a better time will be to resume this meeting.”
Drake Sinclair
Just before we pull up at home. Madison asks, “Daddy, did their little girl die?” My heart breaks for the little girl, for the family who raised her, and for us. Madison really doesn’t know what death is. Other than my mother, her grandmother, she has had no other dealings with death.
Chelsea looks over at me and I say, “Yes, Madison, their little girl died.” Our little girl died.
“Is she an angel in Heaven, like Grandma?”
“Yes, Madison. I’m sure that she is.”
“That’s sad,” she whispers.
Chelsea says, “Yes, Madison. That is very sad.” I watch as Chelsea wipes away her tears as she stares out the window at the passing cars. I look in the rearview window and Madison has her eyes closed. I wonder if she is praying for the family or for the little girl. I look back at the road and think I could learn a lot from her.
I get a text from our attorney, Ryland Reed, and I tell him I’ll meet him at my office. I know what he says will be upsetting and I don’t want to upset Madison, Caden, or Chelsea anymore today. I’m still working on controlling my anger and I know I have a long way to go.
Robert
After I fill out the damn admissions paperwork and speak briefly to Bruce about the meeting, I try to see Leah. “The doctor is still with your wife, Sir. It’ll be just a few more minutes,” a nurse says from the other side of the nurse’s desk.
“Look. If you don’t tell me what room she’s in, I’m going to walk in every room on this floor.”
“It’s okay, Nurse Greene. What room is Mrs. Grether in?” I look over and one of the guys from the meeting are walking up to the counter.
“Hello, Mr. Morrow. She is in room 317. The doctor is still with her.”
“Thank you, I’ll take Mr. Grether to his wife’s room. Follow me, please.”
I follow behind him and I feel like I should apologize for being rude or thank him for helping me, but I don’t. I’m still pissed about the whole baby swap. He opens the door and says, “She’s in here, Mr. Grether.” I nod and walk into Leah’s hospital room. He closes the door quietly behind me. I thought he might come in, but he didn’t.
The curtain is pulled, but I can hear faint talking coming from the other side of the curtain.
“Leah, it’s me. May I come in?” I don’t want to walk in on her. Although we are married, she is still very modest at times. I have a feeling this is one of those times.
“Come on in, Robert. He’s done.”
I slowly open the curtain and walk further into the hospital room. Leah’s doctor, Dr. Fouch, is standing at the sink washing his hands and Leah is in bed adjusting the covers. She smiles when she sees me.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m better now that you’re here. Dr. Fouch just examined me.”
“Are you in labor?”
“I’m afraid so. I have already started to dilate.”
I’ve heard this word when Jamie was born and I’m not sure what it means. It was good news then when Jamie was full term. I’m certain this can’t be good. “So, your water did break?” I ask sitting next to her on the chair nearest her bed.
“It did.”
“Are they able to stop your labor?”
“I’m going to do everything I can to prolong the birth as long as I can.” The doctor says as he stands at the foot of Leah’s bed. “She is already dilated, which means her cervix has begun to open. If we can stop the contraction
s, we can schedule surgery and sew her cervix closed. This procedure will give us some more time. But we need to get the contractions stopped first.”
Leah moans in pain and I ask, “How will you do that?”
“We’ll give Leah some medication through an I.V. It should stop her contractions.”
“When will you do that?” I look around the room and I don’t see an I.V. hooked up to Leah.
“Someone will be in soon to draw her blood and hook the I.V. up. I’ll give you both a few minutes. Push the nurses call light if you need anything, Leah.”
She nods and inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth. “It’s painful?” I ask, stupidly. Look at her, of course, it hurts. She nods again. I hold her hand and wish that our mothers were here. They are great for this kind of stuff.
Over the next hour, the nurses come in and draw blood, insert the I.V. in Leah’s left hand and the doctor examines Leah and checks her cervix to see if she is still dilating. I am happy when there is no change. The swishing sound of the baby’s movements and the sound of the heartbeat fills the otherwise quiet room. The doctor comes in and begins to do an ultrasound of the baby just before the nurse informs us we have a waiting room full of visitors.
Talking to Leah I say, “You stay here and do this, and I’ll check on our guests,” I joke. The doctor laughs, but Leah doesn’t think I’m funny. “I’ll just be right back.”
I walk into the waiting room and I am surprised to see our parents and Jo, Carl, Gus, Dove, Kyle, and Bethany sitting there. As soon as they see me, they all stand. I can see fear in the eyes of everyone in the room. I quickly say, “Leah’s fine. The doctor is with her now.” I can hear the sighs of relief as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
“Oh, thank God. Did her water break?” Sue asks. Mom is listening intently.
I fill them in on everything that I know and was told by the doctor. Everyone looks a little relieved, but Mom and Sue are still insisting on seeing her. I know Leah will want to see them. I tell Jo, Carl, Dove, Gus, Kyle and Bethany to go home. Jo, Dove, and Bethany hand me a card to give to Leah before they leave. Dad and Tim turn on the sports channel and take a seat. They know they will be here for awhile. Mom and Sue won’t leave until they are sure Leah and the baby are out of danger.
When we enter the room, the doctor is gone and Leah is sound asleep. The swishing sound of the baby’s movements has decreased and the heartbeat is loud and strong. My child and wife are finally resting. Mom and Sue walk over to the bed and look at the monitor. They have no idea what they are looking for, I don’t either. They continue to look and watch the screen. I wonder whether Leah sleeping is a sign that her contractions have stopped. I hope so.
Mom and Sue take the seat on each side of Leah and I am left standing. Leah doesn’t move when they take her hands in theirs. The nurse comes in and brings me in a chair. She checks on Leah and tells me it looks like the contractions have stopped. I say a silent prayer. Mom and Sue leave to tell Dad and Tim the news. I smile and walk towards Leah, who is still resting in bed. “This is good news,” I say as I bend down and kiss her.
“It is,” she agrees. “I have more good news.”
“A delayed labor is about all the good news that I can handle at the moment.”
“You don’t want to know that we are having a son or a daughter?”
“You know the gender of the baby?” I ask in disbelief.
“I do,” she smiles.
“How? I thought we were going to wait until next weekend and find out together at the gender reveal party.”
“During the ultrasound the doctor slipped up and said he… or she was very healthy. Do you want to know if our baby is a he or a she?” Leah is still smiling. As long as the baby is healthy, that is all I care about. But to know the gender would be nice. I look at Leah and it looks like she wants to tell me. It also looks like she likes knowing something I don’t know.
She is still smiling and I say, “It’s a boy, I can feel it.”
“Are you so sure?”
Am I sure? No, I’m bluffing her. “Yes, positive,” I lie.
“Is there something you want to wager on it?” she asks.
Leah wants to play. As long as Leah is playing, she isn’t depressed. “Mmm, let me see.” I run my hand over my now 5:00 o’clock shadow with the pretense that I am considering something big. I’m not. “Are you talking sexual favors?” I tease.
“Ace, they are going to sew my cervix closed. I’m pretty sure sex is out of the question for awhile.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t think about that. Didn’t he say you’ll be on bed rest?”
“He did.”
“I guess breakfast in bed for a month is out of the question.”
“Nice try,” she giggles. “Since there’s nothing to wager, do you want a hint?”
If she knows than I want to know, too. “Do we need to buy trucks or Barbie dolls?” I ask anxiously.
“Ace, you’ll need to buy…”
Just then, the door opens and in walk our parents. “Oh goody, she’s awake,” Mom says, as she makes her way to the bed. Leah smiles when she sees them and I stand to move out of the way. Since Leah’s labor has been stopped, this is a huge relief for everyone. I walk over and stand near the large window with Tim and my dad.
After a few minutes, Dad and Tim walk over to the bed to visit with Leah. She smiles at everyone and often looks over their shoulder at me. I smile and let them visit. Leah and I don’t tell them we were in the middle of a conversation when they entered the room. That would be rude — our conversation will wait until they leave. Honestly, the gender of the baby is the last thing on my mind. Madison, Jamie, Leah, and a safe pregnancy are on the top of the list of the things that will keep me awake for the next few weeks — or months. I get a text and decide to check it while everyone visits with Leah. I’m expecting to see something from Bruce and surprised to see it’s from Leah.
Leah: Ace, Your hint is… sugar and spice and everything that’s nice.
I look at my phone and blink a few times. I look up and Leah is smiling with tears in her eyes. “A girl?” I ask.
She nods, “Yes.” I watch as the tears from onto her rosy colored cheeks.
“We’re having a girl?” I ask, again. All of the sudden I can only see Leah sitting up in the bed with her cell phone in her hands. I guess this is what’s called tunnel vision. I know our parents are in the room, but I don’t see them. I hold my phone and slowly walk over to Leah. When I get to her, I softly sit on the bed, cup her face in my hands and say, “A girl?”
She smiles, cries, and nods her answer. I kiss her softly and passionately. I break away slowly from or kiss and wipe away her tears with the pads of my thumbs. “I knew it was a girl all along,” I say and kiss her again. I can feel her smile on my lips.
Leah
I swat at Robert’s arm and pull away from his kiss. “You did not know it was a girl.”
He smiles his dimpled smile and says, “I did, too.”
“What about you saying, ‘It’s a boy — I can feel it.’”
“Did I say that?” he jokes.
I have to laugh at him. “Yes, you did. You were so sure it was a boy we were going to bet on it.”
“Oh about that, I was just teasing.”
“How did you find out the gender of the baby?” Mom interrupts.
“That would be my fault,” Dr. Fouch says as he walks into the room. “With all of the excitement I just let it slip. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad you did,” I say honestly.
Dr. Fouch looks and nods at everyone in the room. He asks, “How are you feeling? I see the medication worked and your labor has stopped.”
“I feel good — tired, but no pain.”
“Good, I want to examine you again and make sure you haven’t dilated anymore.”
“That’s our cue. We’ll make a coffee run while he does… whatever it is he needs to do,” Walter jokes.
&nb
sp; Dad, Walter, and Robert kiss me goodbye before they walk out the room. Mom and Margie stay in the room with me.
Once the exam is done, he tells me that I haven’t dilated anymore. The guys knock before walking into the room. Robert walks over to me, coffee in hand. The doctor explains that he is going to schedule surgery for me in the morning. He calls the procedure a cervical cerclage and explains to Robert and me that is it a very minor surgery and that we should expect another overnight hospital stay and strict bed rest and pelvic rest until I deliver. Pelvic rest is a nice way to say no sex.
Later that night after everyone leaves, Robert and I talk about what happened at the meeting after we left. I have a feeling he doesn’t tell me everything, and to be honest, I’m fine with that. I still battle my depression and I know that some things won’t change, no matter how hard I wish they would. Robert and I mostly talk about positive things and we avoid everything that has to do with the baby swap.
Robert sleeps in the chair next to the bed. I knew he wouldn’t go home. I did text his Mom to see if she would bring him some clothes when they return tomorrow. He is still wearing his suit and tie from earlier: a reminder that we were meeting our biological daughter today. Robert sleeps and I lie wide awake in bed. I can’t get over the fact that my biological daughter has been in the shop. Shouldn’t I have felt a connection to her? Shouldn’t I have noticed how much she looked like Robert and me? I smile when I remember her slight wave when she saw me at the meeting. She liked me and she remembered me.
“Happy thoughts?” Robert asks from his deep sleep.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Are you awake?” he asks.
“Obviously.”
“Then I’m not asleep. Thinking happy thoughts?” he asks as he stretches his arms and legs.
“Are you saying that you never sleep if I’m awake?”
“I don’t know about never, but mostly never is probably accurate. Happy thoughts?” he asks again.
When I think back on Robert’s statement, I think I believe him. Robert is always the last one to fall asleep at night and is almost always the first one up in the morning. I don’t think I can remember a time when he fell asleep before me. “Why do you do that?” I ask.
Against the Odds Page 5