“Miss Mancelli. You wanted to see me?” he asked, taking a seat.
“I want you to be straight with me as to what happened to me. Apparently I have a child?” I snorted, not able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “When was I going to be told about her? When she was three?”
“Miss Mancelli, you’ve just had major surgery on your brain. When patients suffer post-operative amnesia, it is usually detrimental to their recovery, to force information onto them.” He shrugged his shoulders unapologetically.
“Fine, but we’re talking about a baby, not a misplaced weekend,” I protested loudly, trying to block out the ringing in my ears telling, me I needed to calm down.
“Yes, and we’ve had patients who don’t recognize their loved ones, after surgery. In my experience, which I’m sure you will understand is vaster than yours, sharing information like that before a person is ready to accept it hinders their recovery. Look, I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but we did what we felt was best for you as our patient,” he said curtly. Whew, talk about poor bedside manner. My cat had better social skills than this doctor.
“Was the hemorrhage caused by the pregnancy?” I asked.
“Pregnancy does increase the risk of blood clots occurring,” he admitted, “and you’re medical history was another factor, but we can’t attribute it directly to one thing or another. These things just happen sometimes.”
“When can I go?” I asked.
“We need to monitor you, Emma. We did repair the bleed, but we weren’t able to remove the entire clot.” He pointed to my IV bag. “That should break the clot down, but you’re not going anywhere until that happens,” he said, amused at my persistence for answers.
“Will my memory return completely?” I asked, ignoring his smirk. I wanted as many of my questions as I could answered while they were fresh in my mind.
“Probably, I can’t promise you it will, but 95% of patients experience full memory return. Is that all?” he asked. I nodded as he stood up, unable to think of anything else to ask him. “I’ll see you tomorrow Miss Mancelli.”
“Oh, one more!” I called out just as he was leaving. “Am I…Is it possible for me to have more children?” I asked. I knew the answer before he even said it.
“You suffered extensive bleeding during the birth and we had to perform a hysterectomy,” he replied, for the first time in the whole conversation he showed the slightest touch of sympathy.
>
A hysterectomy.
Even though having kids should have never been an option at all and I was lucky to have a healthy little girl, it still hurt. For the tiniest moment I had been able to imagine having more kids, though even without the hysterectomy, the doctors and Simon would’ve never agreed to that.
I pushed the thoughts out of my head and tried to focus on the positives here. I had a baby.
Holy shit, I had a baby.
I was excited to meet her, hell I couldn’t wait to hold her in my arms. What if she didn’t bond with me? They say the first few weeks in a newborns life are most important in establishing bonds and I had missed that.
Simon peered around the doorway, holding a bundle tightly to his chest.
“Are you ready?” he smiled, walking into the room slowly. I nodded, my heart pounding. God I hoped this wasn’t a dream. He walked beside the bed and leaned over, placing the tightly wrapped bundle against my chest.
She was beautiful. Her tiny little lips were curved into a pout as she stared up at me with her huge blue eyes. Her tiny hand reached out and gripped my little finger tightly. Wiping away tears, I laughed. Simon grinned, his finger brushing Mirabella’s cheek.
“She’s beautiful, just like her mom,” he whispered. “My two incredible beauties.”
I smiled, suddenly getting the name. Mirabella, my incredible beauty. It was perfect for her. Wait, how did I know that? Simon hadn’t mentioned her name to me, or the meaning, but I knew it.
“What’s wrong,” Simon asked, worried.
“Mirabella. How did I know her name? And it’s meaning?”
“I told you about her when you were unconscious,” he said after a long pause. Shrugging, he shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“It’s perfect, Simon, her name is perfect,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off her.
He looked relieved. “You don’t know how worried I was that you’d hate it or something,” he chuckled softly, “I’m glad you like it.”
“How are you going to look after her? With me in here, I mean?” I asked, remembering that she was going home tomorrow.