The doctor gestured to a chair facing her desk. “Have a seat, Savannah.” The nurse and sonographer flanked the doctor as she sat in her high-backed leather chair, hands clasped professionally on her desk. They all looked at me with concern.
“No, thank you, I’d rather stand,” I said hotly.
“Okay. Why don’t you tell me what’s upsetting you?”
“What’supsettingme is that I specifically told your sonographer I didn’t want to know the gender of my child when she performed my ultrasound a few weeks ago.” I pointed at Tamara. “She said she would note it in my file in case I changed my mind later, but that it would be kept confidential unless I specifically asked for it myself. Well, guess how I found out today that I’m apparently having a boy? On social media, when my baby’s father’s girlfriend announced it to the whole world!”
To her credit, Dr. Quinlan barely flinched. “That simply cannot be true,” she said calmly but firmly. “This is a highly professional, widely respected medical practice. We adhere to HIPAA laws very strictly. There is no member of my team that would ever give out that kind of information unless you filled out certain forms granting access to specific individuals.”
“The only person who I granted permission to is my mother, Shelley Woods, and that is only in case of an emergency.”
“Rachel, please go get Ms. Mitchell’s file,” the doctor said.
I finally decided to take a seat in one of the chairs facing her desk as Rachel came back with a folder. She opened it and spread it out before Dr. Quinlan.
The doctor quickly scanned the contents. “I see Tamara’s notes here from your twenty-week scan … and I do see her note here that you said you do not wish to know the gender of your baby. And here is the envelope Tamara stored the gender information in—still fully sealed.” Dr. Quinlan held up a plain white envelope.
I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t it obvious? If someone had accessed my file, she could have opened the original envelope and then easily placed it into a new one, and sealed it.
“And here are the HIPAA forms you filled out when you first enrolled in my prenatal care after finding out you were pregnant. You are correct—the only person you granted access to your information is your mother, Shelley Woods. Your emergency contacts are Shelley Woods and Eleanor Parker.”
She continued flipping. “It looks like, at your twelve-week appointment, you asked us to make a note that Maxwell Hunter is the father of the child, and that in an emergency, he was to be notified if there was ever a serious issue with the health of the child. That is all I see regarding the privacy of your medical information.” She looked up at me again. “Based on this, Savannah, as your baby appears to be in perfect health up to this point, there is no one that we are legally allowed to reveal information to regarding the gender of your baby, or anything else.”
I jiggled my knee as I fought the urge to pace, like I usually did when I was upset. “Then how do you explain this? Look at my file—is she correct? Am I having a boy?”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to know, Ms. Mitchell?”
“I’m pretty sure I already do, so—yes.”
Dr. Quinlan picked up a pointy letter opener off her desk and sliced the envelope open. Tamara looked at me with sadness.
The doctor softened her voice. “You are indeed having a boy, Ms. Mitchell.”
Tears slid down my cheeks as I truly registered the news for the first time. I don’t think I had allowed myself to fully believe it when I’d first read Madison’s post, but here it was—undeniable.
I was having a son.
I leaned forward, covering my face with my hands as more tears fell. No one said anything. And what could they say? They couldn’t take it back. No one could erase this knowledge from my head. Discovering the gender of my child should have been a happy moment—but, as usual, Madison had stolen that from me.
When I’d finally calmed down enough to look up, Dr. Quinlan was frowning down at one of the documents in my file.
“Ms. Mitchell—why did you come in on the twenty-seventh for urine and blood toxicity tests?”
I sniffed, dabbing my eyes. “The lady from Children’s Services told me I had to.”
Her frown deepened. “What lady?”
“The DCS investigator. They received reports that I’m putting my baby’s health in danger—probably another of Madison’s ploys. They searched my apartment and made me come get toxicity tests. She said if they find anything concerning, DCS could take my baby away from me in the delivery ward.”
“That is highly unusual,” Dr. Quinlan said, trading uneasy looks with Rachel and Tamara.
“I thought so too, Doctor,” said Rachel.
“I have never heard of DCS investigating a pregnant mother—onlyafterbirth.”
“You have to believe me,” I said, reaching for a tissue and blowing my nose. “I’ve never had even a sip of alcohol, or anything else, since finding out I was pregnant.”
“I believe you, Ms. Mitchell. And your baby appears to be in perfect health. If I may ask—do you have contact information for this investigator?”
