Chapter 5 #2
Jennie touched the baby’s cheek with her hand. Caressed her. Kissed her on the head. Then she lifted the baby up and handed her to me. “I’m not keeping her.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. “I’m giving her to you.”
Wait-what?
I resisted. “You can hold her,” I said, somewhat stupidly. “Would you like to?” Please, please hold your little baby. Please keep her. Please…anything. I wasn’t thinking any further than this tiny innocent little newborn not having someone to coo and cradle her, shelter her, give her a future….
My eyes filled with tears. This girl was sixteen. Alone. So much was going on that I had no idea about.
Jennie kept her head turned away. “Please take her. I’m giving you my baby. I can do that, right? You take care of her.”
I held onto the baby tighter, clutched her to me. Who would show her that she was loved, protect her from the realities of a world that was harsh under the very best of circumstances? My stomach churned.
I can do that, right? She was handing over her baby to a hospital employee, namely me.
She’d verbally expressed her desire to give the baby up.
She was activating the Safe Haven Law, which allowed a parent to legally relinquish a newborn without fear of prosecution.
Typically, a baby could be brought to a fire station or hospital and handed to an employee—any employee.
You could do it anonymously, without question.
“Is there—is there anyone you want us to call?” I asked, wanting to give her every chance. To what? To change her mind?
I knew nothing about her, about her situation. I didn’t know what was right or wrong for her. I was only trying to keep all the options open.
She shook her head, her jaw set.
I touched her arm. BethAnn took the baby from me, and the nurses began to wipe her down under the warmer and take her vital signs.
“It’s okay,” I said, squeezing the girl’s arm.
“You did an amazing job, you know that? You got yourself here to a safe place and you gave birth to a beautiful baby, and no matter what happens, you’re giving her a good start. A great start.”
Jennie turned halfway toward me. She was still crying. “I want her to have a chance.”
“She’ll have more than a chance,” I said. What was I saying? How did I know that? Be careful, Ani. Sometimes my emotions led me to say things in the moment. I reminded myself not to make promises I couldn’t keep.
“Promise me.” She grasped my arm hard. “…that she’ll go to someone good. Someone who can give her everything. Promise.”
“Is Jennie your real name?”
She said nothing.
“I—I just wanted to call you by your name.”
“Crystal,” she whispered. “It’s Crystal.”
“I promise, Crystal,” I said with determination. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to see that she’s taken care of.”
I asked if I could ask her some quick health questions about her and her family, so that the baby would have some family medical history. I ran down the list quickly. Nothing stood out.
As soon as we’d done that, the door opened, and a woman of slight build burst in. “Hello, hello, Jennie, I’m Dr. Parik, the obstetrician. I’m going to be taking over now. We’ll get you all finished here and to your room, okay?”
Crystal gave a weak nod. I squeezed her hand. “Hi, Dr. Parik,” I said. Then to Crystal, “You’re in great hands.”
With a nod to my colleague, who was already bustling around, preparing to deliver the placenta and finish things up, I de-gloved and left the room, completely shaken.
Outside the room, I fumbled with the strings on my gown. I was physically shaking. Crying too, but trying to hide it.
Suddenly I felt someone quickly untying me, grasping my elbow, and gently tugging me down the hall. I felt strong hands on my shoulders, reassuring, urging me forward.
“We need to call the social worker on call,” I said.
“Already done,” Adam said. I’d lost track of him—he must have been waiting for me.
“How did your patient do?” I asked as I stopped to wash my hands, took a quick swipe at my eyes, and tried to pretend this was just another day in the life. There were inevitably patients waiting to be seen, and regardless of how emotional I felt, I had to carry on.
“Three thousand Joules cured him from his v-fib, and he’s upstairs in the unit.”
“Oh, that’s a relief,” I said, a little absently. I was still shell-shocked and jittery from all the adrenaline coursing through my blood.
“You did a fine job in there,” he said softly.
I nodded, appreciating that he knew it.
“That teenager did her research,” I said. “If you hand over your baby to a health care worker and say you’re giving it up, that’s legally binding.”
He touched my arm. There was a flash of sympathy in his eyes.
But then he suddenly seemed to realize that he was out of character because he dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and stepped back.
“This isn’t a Hallmark movie. The world is a harsh place—for everyone. There’s only so much we can do.”
Dr. Grumpenstein was ba-ack. A pity, because I’d caught a glimmer of something wonderful beneath that fatalist facade.
If that mansplaining spiel was his version of sympathy, I couldn’t take it. “No,” I said, pulling my arm away, frustration overwhelming me. “I can’t accept that. We can always do more.” Then I pulled my arm away and went to keep doing my job.