Page 2 of His Long-Lost Baby
“Thank you,” I say to the doctor and the nurse. “Thank you so much.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” the nurse says with a smile.
The doctor leaves the room, and the nurse brings out a toy chest. She opens it up, offering Quinn a plastic trinket.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know,” I mumble, more to myself than anyone else.
The nurse eyes me. “You couldn’t know until it happens,” she says. “Does asthma run in the family?”
“I…” I hesitate and glance at Quinn, who is distracted by her shiny new plastic ring. “I don’t know. Her adoption was basically closed.”
It’s no secret that Quinn was adopted. I’ve told her from the beginning that instead of growing her in my belly I went searching for her and adopted her.
The adoption hasn’t caused any issues at all.
Until now.
“It’s not only genetic,” the nurse adds. “Environmental factors play a role.”
I nod, feeling extra down now.
The nurse takes a seat next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re doing the best you can for Quinn, and that’s what really matters.”
I nod, but I can’t shake off the feeling that I should have known. That I should’ve been more prepared for something like this.
“We can schedule a follow-up appointment with a pediatrician to discuss a long-term treatment plan,” the nurse says. “And in the meantime, here’s a prescription for her inhaler. Make sure you give it to her as needed.”
“Thank you,” I say, taking the prescription from her.
Quinn looks up at me with tired eyes. “Mommy, can we go home now?”
“Yes, baby,” I say, relieved. “We can go home now.”
As we leave the hospital, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But at the same time, I know that I need to educate myself about Quinn’s asthma and how to prevent future attacks. I can’t let something like this happen again.
I can’t help but wonder what other surprises await us. What other things have I missed about her? I feel guilty, like I’ve failed her somehow.
But then Quinn tugs on my hand. “Mommy, can we get ice cream?”
“Sure, sweetie,” I say, ruffling her hair.
After grabbing our cones at our favorite spot, we go into the building’s shady backyard. Spotting an ant hill, Quinn immediately goes over to check it out.
Knowing she’ll be occupied for at least a few minutes, I pull out my phone and call my best friend.
“Hey,” Monica answers. “What kind of wine should I bring for dinner tonight?”
I clear my throat before speaking. “White. But, um, I need to talk to you about something serious.”
Monica’s tone changes immediately. “Of course, what’s going on?”
I take a deep breath before continuing. “Quinn was just diagnosed with asthma.”
There’s a brief silence before Monica responds. “Oh no, Billie. I’m so sorry. How is she doing?”
“She’s okay now. We just left the hospital and she’s excited to get some ice cream,” I say, watching Quinn from afar. “But I’m worried about her, and I’m worried about what other surprises might be waiting for us down the road.”
“I can understand why you’re feeling that way,” Monica says, her voice full of concern. “But you need to remember that Quinn is still the same wonderful kid she’s always been. And you’re doing everything you can to take care of her.”