Then Marissa slowly pulled the blanket aside.
Near the baby’s left collarbone sat a small, dark oval.
Caleb made a sound that was half laugh, half sob.
Every part of me wanted to reach for that child.
“There.”
My vision blurred.
Every part of me wanted to reach for that child.
I didn’t.
Not yet.
Denise spoke before anyone else could move.
The hospital drew samples for an urgent parentage test.
“We are not going to exchange the infants based only on physical marks.”
“Good,” I said.
Marissa nodded immediately.
“Test them.”
The hospital drew samples for an urgent parentage test while administrators reviewed security footage, transfer logs, and the staff members who had handled both babies.
One look at her face told me.
Until the results came back, each child stayed with the family currently holding her, under supervision.
Those hours were unbearable.
Caleb kept staring toward the hallway. Marissa cried twice. I tried not to wonder whether I was comforting her daughter while she was comforting mine.
Later that day, Denise returned.
One look at her face told me.
Caleb had been right.
“The results are conclusive,” she said.
Caleb had been right.
The baby in my arms was Marissa’s daughter.
Don’t miss
The child with the dark mark belonged to us.
For ten years, I had been afraid I would never get to bring a baby home.
It had never occurred to me that she could be born healthy, cry in the same room as me, and still almost leave the hospital in someone else’s arms.
I looked at her face first.
Denise moved carefully between us.
We exchanged the babies under the supervision of the medical staff.
When my daughter was finally back against my chest, I looked at her face first.
Then at the small dark oval near her left collarbone.
I touched it with one finger.
Caleb leaned beside me.
I started crying.
“Thumbprint,” he whispered.
I started crying.
This time, he did too.
I looked at him.
“You knew what you saw.”
He shook his head.
“I just looked at her.”
The room went quiet again.
Before anyone could say more, Caleb turned toward the administrator.
“Then explain the bands.”
The room went quiet again.
He pointed toward our daughter.
“How did another baby end up wearing my wife’s name?”
The administrator glanced at Denise.
That answer took longer.
The first mistake had created the second.
The review showed that the girls had first been placed in the wrong bassinets during the crowded assessment period.
