Chapter 2 - The Empty Crib
I woke up to the steady beeping of a heart monitor.
My abdomen burned with the intense pain of fresh surgical staples.
I opened my eyes and recognized the sterile ceiling of a VIP recovery suite.
The room was completely silent.
I immediately reached for my stomach, feeling the emptiness there.
Panic surged through my veins like ice water.
I tried to sit up, but my muscles refused to cooperate.
I pressed the call button repeatedly.
A young nurse entered the room with a clipboard.
I demanded to know where my baby was.
She refused to meet my eyes.
She told me that I needed to rest and let the medication work.
I used my authority as Chief of Emergency Medicine to command an answer.
She swallowed hard and pointed to the empty plastic crib in the corner.
She whispered that my son had survived the surgery.
My heart soared for a fraction of a second.
Then she delivered the devastating news.
She said my husband had already discharged the baby.
I stared at her in absolute disbelief.
Bradley had suffered a massive heart attack in the delivery room.
The nurse shook her head slowly.
She explained that Bradley had not suffered a heart attack at all.
He had experienced a minor panic attack, recovered quickly, and signed the discharge papers.
Before he left, he filed a legal psychiatric hold against me.
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Two armed hospital security guards stepped into my room.
They informed me that I was not allowed to leave the bed.
