Angeni hated this hospital. The last time she’d been here had been for Freya’s birth. The baby’s heart decelerations had everyone so worried, the midwife had insisted on a transfer. Angeni trusted that all would be fine, and it was, but not before so much unnecessary panic and talk of a C-section. She’d delivered Freya vaginally, by sheer will. She’d manifested it. Her body had known what it had to do.
This hospital stay was just as traumatic. When she’d first arrived, she’d been too out of it to protest an overnight stay. She’d had a crushing headache and vomited a handful of times. Erik said she’d been slurring, which was especially alarming because she’d thought she was speaking perfectly fine.
After he left, she fell asleep, only to be awakened for more scans. She fell asleep again, and when she opened her eyes, it was morning, and she felt well enough to panic about having spent the night away from Freya.
It was just past five in the morning when she texted Erik.
Is Freya OK? I have to get out of here. Can you come?
While she waited for him to respond, a nurse came in, and she couldn’t resist passing on the same message to him.
“I have to get out of here,” she said to him.
He was tapping away at the little computer on wheels. He looked over the top of it, met her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I have to get out of here,” she repeated. “When are they letting me out?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
Ma’am.This nurse was so baby-faced, couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
“I have a baby at home,” she said.
His eyes got big and wide. “Alone?”
She sighed. “She’s notalone, but she’s not with me.”
Angeni couldn’t help but think about the potential physiological effects of babies being separated from their mothers. There was likely so much cortisol coursing through Freya right now. She hadn’t nursed in more than twenty-four hours; she must be howling with hunger, nearing desperation.
“It looks like the doctor will be doing rounds in a couple hours and will go over your scans with you then,” the baby-face said.
“A couplehours?”
“That’s when Dr. Sanger does rounds,” he said.
“Did you not hear me? I have ababy. Athome.”
He nodded. He didn’t understand. It was possible he would never understand, would walk into a future as a father who had no concept of what parenthood required. People like him were the problem—people who did not take nurturing seriously.
A woman in pink scrubs appeared in the doorway.
“Is everything okay in here?”
The woman looked from Angeni to the nurse, concern all over her face. Had Angeni been yelling? It was possible she’d been yelling. She told herself to breathe—in for four, hold, out for four, hold. Repeat. Shehad to stay composed. She was Angeni Luna. Her persona was reliant upon her being tranquil. A public outburst could destroy her. Cancel culture was alive and well.
“I just wanted to know when I can go home,” she said, forcing herself to smile and emit the peaceful calm people expected of her.
“Dr. Sanger will see you on his rounds, and if all’s good, we’ll discharge,” she said.
The male nurse nodded emphatically, likeI told you so, and then they both left.
Erik arrived before Dr. Sanger. He looked exhausted. She doubted he’d slept at all—her poor husband, sick with worry. He insisted Freya was fine. They’d given her enough chicken-liver pâté to hold her over. Angeni didn’t believe Freya was fine, though. Even if she’d managed to take in enough calories, which wasn’t likely, she would have missed the connection of nursing. She would have missed her mother. Erik wouldn’t tell Angeni if Freya wasn’t fine, though. He wouldn’t want to cause her more distress. The truth was waiting for her at home.
When Dr. Sanger came, he told them that her scans were clear.
“No bleeding or swelling. No structural issues with the brain. All bloodwork is normal too.”
