My Husband Called Me to the Hospital at 2 AM and Put a Newborn Girl in My Arms – Before We Reached Home, They Told Us to Turn Around
“Who told you?”
“The doctor.”
“What doctor?”
He gave me the name.
I didn’t recognize it.
But Eleanor did.
She covered her mouth.
“That’s impossible.”
“What?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“That doctor was my daughter’s father.”
The room went silent.
I looked between them.
“You’re saying…”
Eleanor nodded.
“My husband was the doctor who delivered your baby.”
I felt sick.
Michael took my hand.
I pulled it away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I believed she was dead.”
“For 22 years?”
“I believed it.”
“Then how is Lucy here?”
Michael looked toward the baby.
“Because Lucy is your granddaughter.”
I stared at him.
Then at Eleanor.
Then back at Lucy.
The room seemed to shrink.
“My daughter?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Her name was Anna.”
The name hit me strangely.
I had heard it before.
Not from Eleanor.
From Michael.
Years ago.
Once, during an argument, he’d mentioned a woman named Anna who had worked at a hospital.
