“Em, rest. Please just try and relax.”
I faced away from him and closed my eyes. Maybe if I went to sleep I’d wake up and this would’ve all been some weird nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Simon
Two days since Em had woken and her memory had not improved at all. The doctors were constantly trying to reassure me it was normal for this to take some time, but honestly, there was nothing normal about this whole situation. We had a daughter, I couldn’t even introduce to my fiancé, because she had no knowledge of her. Hell, she didn’t even know we were engaged.
As I did every morning, I went straight to the nursery to see my little girl. She was nothing like the tiny thing Em had given birth to. In the four weeks since she was born she had put on weight and she was no longer reliant on machines to regulate her breathing. She looked like a normal happy newborn baby, albeit a little small.
“Morning Simon,” Nancy smiled at me. I smiled back. Nancy worked most mornings so she was used to seeing me in here before nine. Nancy was one of those people you couldn’t help but love, always ready for a chat, always smiling. Today she seemed extra excited.
“I’ve got some news for you. You can take Mirabella home tomorrow.”
What? Holy shit, I was nowhere near ready for that. All my time had been spent here with Mirabella and Em, I hadn’t even put up her nursery. My head ached as I thought of everything I needed to get.
“Hey.” Nancy placed her hand on my arm, sensing I was overwhelmed. “You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you with her.” Forcing a smile, I nodded. Sure. I’d be fine. Looking after a premature baby by myself? Piece of cake.
I walked over to Mirabella’s crib, her big eyes stared up at me. It was as if she recognized who I was and I swear I saw her smile. As I picked her up and rocked her in my arms, I began to feel something I hadn’t felt in ages. I was excited. I was looking forward to getting my daughter home, Em getting better and our lives finally getting back on track.
Apparently memory issues were common after the type of operation she’d had. It was unlikely for her memory not to return at all, but it was a possibility and something I didn’t want to think about. I so badly wanted to take Mirabella to meet her mother. I was sure when Em saw our little girl, she’d fall in love just as I had, but the doctors had insisted we not rush it and the last thing I wanted to do was prolong her recovery.
Staying with Mirabella for another hour, I left to see Em. I needed to call in a huge favor and Claire was the only one who could help me on this. I headed to the cafeteria, where the staff now knew me by name.
“Hi Simon,” Ellie smiled at me as I approached the counter. “Coffee and muffin?” she asked. I nodded, grinning. Yes, I was that transparent. Every day for the last three weeks I’d ordered a coffee and a muffin for morning tea, followed by a sandwich for lunch.
“How’s Emma?” Ellie, just like the rest of the staff had become heavily invested in Emma’s recovery.
“She’s getting there,” I smiled, reaching for my coffee. Handing her the $5 in my hand, I grabbed the muffin and headed for my usual table in the corner. It was the quietest spot and the best for making phone calls.
“Claire,” I began, “I need a favor.”
“Okay,” Claire laughed, “do I get to know what it is before I say yes?”
“Mirabella is coming home tomorrow,” I chuckled, “and I’m about as underprepared as I could be.”
“And you want me to…”
“Maybe go shopping for me? Just the necessities. We have a crib, a change table and that’s about it,” I said hopefully, knowing Claire would say yes. She laughed.
“Of course I will. I told you anything you need just to let me know. Are you excited? To bring her home?” she asked.
“The more appropriate phrasing would be I am shitting myself,” I chuckled.
“Yeah, well, that’s normal and you’re alone until Em gets better which makes it doubly hard. How is she today?” she asked.
“She’s good, but her memory hasn’t improved yet,” I explained. Something just hit me. How was I supposed to look after Mirabella and be here for Em when I wasn’t allowed to tell Em about our daughter yet?
“You still there?” Claire asked, confused by the sudden silence.
“Yes, sorry. Just trying to work out the logistics in my mind,” I mumbled. “Looking after Em and Mirabella, but not telling Em about Mirabella...” God it sounded like a mess.
“Let me help, Simon,” Claire sighed, “come stay with us for a few days at least. I can look after Mirabella while you’re in with Emma. I know Maddie would love having you around,” she added, trying to sway me.
I hesitated. I hadn’t told Claire about my argument with Em, over our relationship. In the back of my mind, I knew us staying with Claire would probably upset Em, but what choice did I have? Besides, I’d neglected Maddie so much these last few weeks, I knew she would love having me there.
“Okay,” I relented, “thanks Claire.”
Even I had to admit knowing I had some support with Mirabella gave me a huge sense of relief. After I ended the call, I dialed mom. I hadn’t been in touch for over a week now, even though I’d promised to call her.
“Hey mom. How are you?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck which was stiff from yet another poor sleep. God I could only dream of my next real sleep, which wouldn’t be until Mirabella turned thirty.
“Simon! How is Emma? And Mirabella?” mom asked, concern etched in her voice.
“Em’s getting there. Still no memory, but the doctors say it will come back. Mirabella is coming home tomorrow. I’ll take some pictures and send them to you,” I added, knowing she’d love that.
“That would be wonderful,” she gushed. “I’ve been telling everyone about my new little granddaughter.”
“Of course you have,” I chuckled, “how is Leila?” I said, asking after my sister.
“Not great,” mom admitted sadly, “the seizures are getting more regular and she’s not really with it most of the time these days.”
“I’ll try and get into to see her soon,” I promised.
“Thanks honey. You’re such a lovely boy. Say hi to Emma and Maddie for me and give that baby of yours a big kiss from her Grandma.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma
To say I was sick of being in hospital, was an understatement. It was the third day after I had woken up, which I guess made it nearly four weeks since I collapsed.
It was morning, just after breakfast and for the first time in ages I was able to take myself to the bathroom. Walking to the bathroom might not seem like a huge deal, but right now it was better than winning a marathon. Of course, the bathroom was only five feet away from my bed, but still, it felt like a huge accomplishment. After going to the toilet, I sat on the chair and showered. I cannot describe how wonderful it felt to have the hot water trickle down my shoulders. I had to avoid getting my hair wet because of the large ugly wound that spread three inches across the left side of my head. They’d shaved a small section of my hair, which I could cover up if I positioned my hair right.
When I first saw the wound I cried my eyes out. It was confronting, looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a big gaping wound. Okay, so it wasn’t gaping, it was actually quite neat, but it was so…there. Both the doctors and Simon had explained what had happened to me. It was a shock, that at twenty years old I had suffered a stroke and a clot for no reason. I couldn’t help but think what if it happened again?
As I washed my body, my hands ran over my stomach and over something unfamiliar. Confused, I glanced down to examine what felt like a series of little bumps.
What the hell was that?
Yet another scar, this one measuring at least six inches stretched across my pelvis. It was sutured, so it had to have happened recently, but it didn’t look as fresh as my head wound. Shaking my head, I cursed my memory.
Nothing had come back to me yet. It was crazy t
o think the last six months had been blocked out. Erased. With Simon, our relationship still felt so new and fragile, because in my mind we’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Six months was a long time and not remembering any of it scared me. I had no way of knowing the state of our relationship other than to trust him.
“You okay in there, Emma?” a nurse called out.
“Yes, fine thanks,” I replied, clearing my throat, which still hurt like hell. I finished drying myself off, brushed my teeth, and tied back my hair. My hands sometimes were slower than my brain to coordinate themselves which was frustrating. Things like brushing my teeth were so much harder than they used to be. As I hobbled back to bed, I had to admit a shower had made the world of difference, as to how I was feeling. I felt refreshed and awake. I couldn’t wait to see Simon, or rather for him to see me.
Just like he’d read my mind, there he was, appearing at the door, that lopsided grin stretching across his mouth when he saw me.
“You’re looking good,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. I smiled, loving that he noticed. He still looked at me the same way I remembered, as though I was the most beautiful person he’d seen. Right now, I loved the way that he made me feel.
“I showered myself,” I grinned, laughing as he chuckled at me. “What? It’s a big deal.” I protested at his amusement.
“It is, that’s great. I’m proud of you,” he smiled, “you’ve no idea how good it is to see you smiling,” he said, sinking into the seat next to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel pretty good considering my head was cut open,” I smiled, letting his lips touch mine again.
“You’ve no idea how much I missed doing that,” he grinned.
“Hey,” I said, remembering the scar across my stomach, “what’s this from?” I lifted my gown to reveal the raised, red scar.
“Uh, not sure,” he shrugged unconvincingly, avoiding my eyes.
“Right,” I said slowly, “I have a fairly recent scar on my stomach that you know nothing about? Yet you seem to know everything there is to know about all my other injuries.”
Simon flushed. Ah, I had him. He hesitated, as if he were weighing up the benefit of telling me the truth. The fact that I’d caught him on his lie and he still needed to weigh up the benefits of telling me worried me.
What had happened? Had I been shot?
“Okay, you not telling me is making things worse, Simon. If you know something, please tell me.” My voice was rising, as a familiar sick feeling began to fill my stomach. The last few days, my anxiety had been pretty good, thanks to the heavy pain management I was on.
“Okay, Em. Shit, calm down,” he said, putting his hands up. He stood up and leaned against the bed, then stood straight, running a hand through his hair.
“Simon!” I yelled, determined to get some answers.
“You had a baby!” he bellowed, his tone matching mine.
“Huh?” I said as he winced.
What the fuck was he on about? Was this a joke? My hands shot to my stomach protectively, as I waited for him to explain.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he murmured, apologizing. “The doctors thought it would be best for you to remember on your own. I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
“What do you mean I had a baby? Is it…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to say it, I didn’t want to ask if the baby was alive.
“She’s perfect Em. We found out you were pregnant after Moosly was killed. The pregnancy was a huge risk, but you wouldn’t…There was never any other option for you but to continue with it,” he said. I struggled to absorb what he was telling me. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Me, a mom?
“You said right after Moosly, that would only make her about seven months?” I said suddenly. Simon nodded.
“Nearly eight months now. She was premature, but she’s such a little fighter. She had breathing problems, but that’s all good now. I’m taking her home tomorrow Em,” he added.
“She’s here now?” I asked. Why wasn’t she in here with me? “I want to see her.” I demanded.
“Let me speak to the nurse,” he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek before exiting the room.
Wow.
Holy crap.
I had a baby? Simon and I had a daughter. All those years trying to convince myself I was fine with not being able to have kids and now I have a little girl. It all felt so surreal, like it was happening to someone else.
Had the pregnancy caused the hemorrhage? The doctor had said that it was caused by a blood clot that had developed in scar tissue, so it likely was related to my injuries. This was crazy. And everyone who had been in, nobody had let on to any of this, not even Cass, who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.
Reaching for my buzzer, I pressed it. I wanted to speak to the doctor. No more stepping around me on eggshells as though I was going to break. I wanted answers and I wanted them now.
“Are you okay?” a friendly looking nurse with red hair and freckles smiled at me.
“I’d like to speak to my doctor. Now. Apparently I have a baby and I’m really keen to learn what else has been kept from me,” I snapped, frustrated at myself and everyone. Her smile faltered at my tone. She nodded, her eyes lowered and left. I felt bad, it wasn’t her fault things had been kept from me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on her.
It felt like ages since Simon had left and I was beginning to wonder, if he was coming back at all when the doctor came in. To say he looked concerned would have to be the understatement of the year.
“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.
Incredible Beauty (So Many Reasons) Page 10
