29. Scarlett
Iwas exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally. This whole situation was such a mindfuck. One minute I was feeling cautiously optimistic, the next I was a complete mess, on the verge of tears.
I was just... overwhelmed. Finding out about the babies’ health issues, having to drop everything and come to this fancy-schmancy medical center, what Rhett had done about finding my birth mom. Fuck, it was a lot to process.
The weirdest thing about it was that I felt like Rhett was the one constant I could rely on. Which I guess meant I was well and truly losing my mind. When I’d texted to say the Doctor had some news for us, he hadn’t hesitated. No clowning around or smart remarks. He’d just gotten to the hospital as quickly as he could and sat down next to me.
Sure, it was a bit awkward, but he was here and that was all that mattered.
All I knew right now was that Rhett’s lawyer had sent the letter off to my birth mom, and two days later, the doctor was requesting an urgent meeting.
Dr. Morris walked into the room, her expression serious but calm. She pulled out a chair from the little dining table and sat down, placing a thick white envelope on the table and folding her hands together on top of it.
My heart started pounding as I watched her, looking for subtle cues that told me whatever she had to share, it was gonna be okay. A knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach. I glanced over at Rhett, seated beside me on the edge of the bed, his face impassive but his knee bouncing slightly with nervous energy.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I turned back to face the doctor. “What is that?” I asked, proud of how level my voice sounded. “Is everything okay with the babies?”
Dr. Morris gave me a reassuring smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “First up, I gotta say, you guys work fast. I received this,” she tapped a fingertip on the envelope, “an hour ago, via courier.”
“Is it…Is it from my birth mother?”
“It is.”
Oh. “Is it good or bad?”
“A little of both, but mostly good. We’re going to run some tests, get you an MRI for confirmation, but what this means, basically, is that we aren’t looking for a needle in a haystack anymore. This information, coupled with what Rhett has provided from his own family, is invaluable.”
She sure was taking a fucking long time to get to the point.
“Soooo, what are we looking for?”
Thank you, Rhett.
My hands clenched into fists on my lap as I braced myself for whatever difficult news was coming. Rhett shifted closer to me, our arms brushing together in an unconscious gesture of mutual support. I found myself grateful for his solid presence beside me, a surprising anchor in the storm of uncertainties swirling around us.
“Go ahead,” I told the doctor, lifting my chin with one hundred percent fake composure. “I’m listening.”
“These records show a family history of Neonatal Hemochromatosis.”
Oh fuck, that sounded bad. Really bad.
My heart sank as Dr. Morris’s words registered. A family history? Of some condition I’d never heard of? A thousand terrifying scenarios flashed through my mind in an instant. Without thinking about it, I grabbed Rhett’s hand and squeezed tightly.
“What is.. what is that?” I couldn’t even say the damn word. Images of sick, frail babies flooded my mind, making me feel lightheaded. I shook my head slightly, forcing myself to focus on the doctor’s explanation.
Dr. Morris spoke gently but directly. “It’s a very rare disorder, an autoimmune condition, actually. Basically, your body thinks that the babies are a threat and is making antibodies that are attacking the liver cells. That’s why we have the buildup in their iron levels.”
“What does that mean, exactly? What are the possible or expected outcomes here?”
Again, thank you, Rhett.
“To be frank, if it’s not caught early enough and left untreated, it can lead to life-threatening complications for the babies like liver disease, heart problems, and organ failure.”
My free hand moved instinctively to cradle my pregnant belly, as if to shield the twins from this new threat. I blinked back tears, suddenly terrified for my unborn children. “But... there has to be a treatment, right? Some way to manage it?”
The doctor nodded solemnly. “Yes, absolutely. We’re very fortunate to have such amazing resources at our fingertips, through Rhett’s early intervention in getting you to this medical facility. With early diagnosis and proper management from an experienced team, the prognosis is very good.”
“That’s good. Great. Right?” Yeah, some of the panic was subsiding, but I still wasn’t out of the woods yet. Like, there was a good chance I was going to throw up, or burst in to tears. Hey, why not both?
“Yes. It is.”
Rhett rubbed his thumb back and forth on the back of my hand. “What are the next steps?”
“First, we’ve scheduled an MRI and other tests to help confirm the diagnosis, as at this stage, we’re going solely on the family history information.”
The doctor’s reassuring tone helped settle my nerves a bit as she continued explaining the situation. “Once that’s done and assuming it is, in fact, Neonatal Hemochromatosis, the recommended treatment is a course of intravenous immunoglobulin infusions.”
I nodded slowly, trying to process this new information. “Okay... and what exactly does that involve?”
“Immunoglobulin is a blood product made from donated plasma that contains healthy antibodies,” Dr. Morris clarified. “For Neonatal Hemochromatosis, the infusions help suppress the abnormal maternal antibodies that are attacking the babies’ liver cells. It essentially resets and regulates the immune system response.”
That sounded intense but also made sense in a medical kind of way. At least there was an established treatment protocol. I took a deep breath, squeezing Rhett’s hand tighter. “And this treatment...it’s safe for the babies?”
“Absolutely. This kind of therapy has an excellent safety profile and is considered very low-risk, especially when administered at a facility like this with an experienced team.” She gave me an encouraging smile. “The key is starting the infusions as early as possible, which is why getting that family history was so crucial.”
“I see.” My mind was already leaping ahead. “How soon can we start the treatment, then?”
“Now, here’s where it does get a bit tricky. The transfusion is most effective when it comes from close blood relations like parents or siblings. But don’t worry, we have excellent resources here for securing matched donors from outside your family, if needed.”
I felt Rhett tense beside me and knew he was thinking the same thing I was - this was yet another reason to track down my birth family as soon as possible. Not just for the medical history, but now potentially for a direct biological link that could help treat the babies. And save them.
It was all becoming overwhelming again. So many new worries and concerns piling up on top of an already shitty, stressful situation. I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back the urge to cry or scream or both. When I opened them again, Rhett was looking at me. “No need to be a creep.”
That made him smile, which made me smile.
“Now, um, I know this is a very sensitive situation, but really, time is of the essence, so I’m just going to get straight to the point.”
“Sure, Doc, we appreciate it.”
Dr. Morris cleared her throat, then spoke gently. “This envelope contains your birth mother’s contact information.”
I stared at the thick white envelope on the table, my blood rushing in my ears. That innocuous piece of paper held the answers to so many questions that had haunted me for years - who was my birth mother? What was her story? Why did she give me up for adoption all those years ago? I could feel the anxiety coiling tighter in my chest just staring at it.
My birth mother. Those three little words carried so much weight, so much meaning. For the first time, I had a tangible connection to the woman who brought me into this world, however tenuous.
“She is the single best chance we have of getting a good result for your babies. How would you feel about reaching out to her and asking her to get tested?”
Fuck. Part of me was desperate to rip open that envelope right then and there, to devour whatever information it contained, like a starving person wolfing down a meal. But another part of me - the scared, insecure teenager who had cried herself to sleep so many nights wondering why she wasn’t good enough to keep - held me back with a paralytic grip of fear.
What if the truth was too painful to bear? What if she had simply abandoned me, tossing me away like garbage? Could I handle that kind of brutal rejection all over again? Opening that envelope also meant stepping into the unknown. Tearing open that seal would fling open the door to a Pandora’s box of emotions and revelations I wasn’t sure I was ready to face yet.
“I don’t think this is something Scarlett feels up to right now.”
“I... I can’t,” I admitted in a small voice, hating how weak and scared I sounded. “Not right now. It’s just...it’s too much.”
“I understand. How would you feel if I contacted her? I’m more than happy to do that.”
I had to swallow hard around the lump in my throat before I could talk. “What if she says no?”
“Even if she says yes, she may not be a match, so it’s certainly a good idea to start looking at the donor registry for compatible donors. So, we’ll do that while also contacting Mrs. Parker and requesting a sample. How does that sound?”
Mrs. Parker. So she was married. She had a whole life, a whole history I knew absolutely nothing about. “Um, yeah. That sounds good.” I guess.
“Excellent. I’ll get all those balls rolling and update you as soon as I have more information.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Your more than welcome, Mr. Rivers.”
The heavy thud of the door echoed through the room as Dr. Morris left. My heart was racing, blood pounding in my ears, and I was struggling to catch my breath.
So much to process - a rare disorder threatening my babies. And now the possibility of tracking down my birth mom after all these years? It was all too fucking much. Panic clawed at the edges of my mind, the walls closing in.
I should’ve felt relieved that we had some answers, a path to protect my children. But I just felt crushed under the weight of it all.
Instinctively, I turned to Rhett, craving his strength to ground me. But as our eyes met, I saw the concern in his gaze, the offer of comfort and support. And I... I just couldn’t. Not right then.
Abruptly, I pulled away and pushed myself off the bed, moving to the window. I needed space. A chance to get a grip before shattering completely. Wrapping my arms tightly around myself, I stared blankly outside, my mind whirling.
How had everything spiraled into such a terrifying mess so fast? Just weeks ago, my biggest worries were battling Rhett in court and saving those damn frogs. Now an unexpected twin pregnancy, complicated medical issues, and the very real threat of confronting the mother who abandoned me over thirty years ago.
It was too much. Fear, anger, the crushing uncertainty - it battered my defenses until I felt skinned raw by the relentless onslaught of emotion.
I was vaguely aware of Rhett hovering behind me, no doubt confused by my abrupt withdrawal. Part of me desperately wanted to turn around, let him pull me into his arms and just... break. Release the floodgates - let the storm of tears, screams, and fear pour out until I was hollow, empty, purged of all these awful feelings.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. Not when I felt so fragile, like the slightest harsh word or worried look might shatter me into a million jagged pieces.
So instead, I remained frozen, arms wrapped protectively around my body as I struggled to hold myself together through sheer force of will. I didn’t react as I heard Rhett’s retreating footsteps, the door opening and closing as he left me alone with my whirling thoughts and fears.
Only when I was utterly alone did I let the first burning tears slip free, streaking silently down my cheeks as I pressed a trembling hand to the cool glass. My forehead followed, leaning into the window as I dragged in deep breaths, determined not to completely fall apart.