The young woman perched on the edge of the hospital bed, knees drawn up, her voice cracked with fury as she repeated, I dont want him. Im done with Andrew. He said he doesnt want a child, so I dont either. Do what you like with him it makes no difference to me.
The matron, Miss Eleanor Hartley, sighed, Child, you cant just abandon your own baby. Even the wildest beasts would not turn their backs on their offspring.
The mother snarled, Beast or not, I dont care. Discharge me immediately or Ill make a scene youll never forget. She panted, eyes wild, the words spilling like a storm.
Eleanors voice softened, You poor, misguided soul, forgive me. She knew from years of service that medicine could do nothing for such obstinacy.
A week earlier the newborn had been transferred from the maternity ward to the paediatric unit, where the reckless, quarrelsome mother had flatout refused to nurse her child, no matter how earnestly the staff begged her. She would only agree to express milk, but then there was nowhere for her to go.
Dr. Emma Clarke, the junior paediatrician, fought a losing battle with the defiant mother. The girl threw endless tantrums, and when Emma warned her of the danger to the infant, the mother threatened to run away. Emma, trembling, summoned Miss Hartley, who spent a grueling hour trying to persuade the irrational mum. The woman insisted she had to be with her boyfriend, claiming he would leave her if she didnt.
Hartley would not surrender. After years of watching mothers crumble, she could hold the child for three more days, hoping the mother might finally see reason. The very mention of three days set the mother off.
Are you mad? she screamed. Andrew is already angry about this cursed baby, and now youre tossing me another blow. If I dont go south with him, hell take little Katya away. She burst into tears, accusing everyone of being dimwitted, insisting Katya only wanted to steal her boyfriend. The infant existed for her only because she hoped it would secure a marriage.
Hartley ordered a dose of valerian, then moved toward the doorway. The senior registrar, Dr. Thomas Reed, who had been silent, followed. In the corridor she paused and whispered, Do you really think a child can thrive with a mother like that?
The poor thing, Hartley replied, whats the alternative? Theyll send him to a nursery home, then an orphanage. At least the families on both sides have respectable names. Perhaps we should speak to the grandparents? Find their contact details and negotiate.
That very day the mother fled. Hartley rang the grandparents. The young mans family refused even to speak.
Two days later the boys fathers father arrived a stern, unwelcoming man. Hartley tried to discuss a visit, but he replied coldly, Im not interested. My daughterinlaw will handle the paperwork through her driver. Hartley insisted the mother must be present herself; the rules could not be bent. The man stiffened, his bureaucratic fear surfacing, and reluctantly offered to send his wife.
The following morning a petite, pallid woman entered, perched on the edge of a chair, and broke into sobs, murmuring about a tragedy. She explained that the babys parents had whisked him away abroad, wealthy and ambitious, leaving this nightmare behind. The girls own mother wept constantly, shouting that she hated the child, that she would travel overseas to retrieve him, that shed be with Andrew even if the world fell apart. The womans lament echoed the girls own words.
Hartley sighed and suggested the woman look at the baby, hoping a flicker of affection might awaken. The womans eyes widened; she clutched a fresh handkerchief and wailed louder, calling the infant so precious, I would love to take him home. Yet her husband forbade it, and the girl refused.
Hmm, Hartley muttered, ordering a nurse to give the woman another dose of valerian, cursing that such nonsense would drain the wards calming supplies.
She then reported the whole mess to the chief consultant, Dr. Jonathan Price. The oncerenowned paediatrician beamed at the infant, crooning, Whats he being fed? Look at himlittle bundle of joy, a proper little donut. The nickname stuck.
Donuts stay stretched into months. Staff coaxed his mother to visit; she hovered, playing with him, claiming she was saving enough for a ticket to find her boyfriend, while she had nothing else to do. She seemed to grow fond of the child. His own mother, accompanied by her own mother, would fuss over him, then leave in tears, apologising for the girls madness, calling her love nothing but lust.
Hartley watched the pattern: the mother and grandmother never signed any relinquishment papers, yet they never took the baby. She finally confronted them, stern as ever, about the childs worsening condition. Everyone fretted, and Emma rushed to Donuts bedside. He lay sweaty, damp hair clinging to his forehead, weight plummeting, looking gaunt. Emma cradled him, muttering, Youre no longer a donut, youre a pancake now, but soon his weight climbed, and he regained his chubby, beloved self, delighting in the coral beads Emma wore, trying to bite them with his tiny fist.
One day the mother discovered her boyfriend had married someone else. She erupted, screaming that the world conspired to keep them apart, that she despised everyone, especially the infant. If he werent here, Id be with Andrew now, happy. Ill file a refusal and send the baby to a childrens home. Then Ill go to Andrew and make him drop this filth and marry me. Her illusion shattered when she handed the refusal form to the chief, placed it on his desk, and walked away.
The chief summoned Hartley. She returned, eyes hard, and declared, Its done. Shes filed the papers. Well process the transfer to the childrens home. What else can we do?
Emma burst into tears. Hartley sat down, removed her glasses, and began polishing them, muttering to herself a habit that signalled her nerves. The ward fell silent as Donut played gleefully in his cot. A nurse entered, cooed at him, and he squealed, flailing his arms and legs. Suddenly he froze, then fell quiet. The nurse, baffled, leaned close. Their eyes met, and an inexplicable ache rose in her chest, tears spilling down her cheeks. She later learned the nurses grief synced with the moment the mother signed the refusal.
Hartley snapped, Stop with the sentimental nonsense. Its all superstition, just coincidence. She warned that abandoned children sense their rejection, as if angels whisper sorrowful news, and they try to become invisible, not to burden a world that shoves them into bleak institutions.
Donut lay still in his cot, no longer smiling, his eyes solemn. Emma tried desperately, Donut, want to be held? Look, Ive got beadslets play! She reached out, but he stared blankly, unresponsive, and she wept.
Finally, Emmas voice cracked, Were betraying him! Those monsters first, now us! He didnt ask to be born into this filth! She slumped on the sofa, head in her hands, whining.
Hartley rose from her desk, sat beside Emma, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Girl, I dont know what to do. I feel sorry for Donut, God, what a terrible job this is. She pressed, I wont just sit here. Ill act.
Emma snapped, Then stop sitting! Hartley replied, irritated, Dont talk about adopting him; theyll never let you. Youre a student, no husband, nothing. This is emotional outburst. How many Donuts have I seen in my career? Too many to count. Well give you time to find proper parentsgood ones. She thrust a folder toward Emma.
Emma threw herself into the search, scouring records for a family fit to love Donut. Her fervour moved even the wards clerks. At last she found Laura and Leon, a childless couple in their midthirties whod long dreamed of parenthood. Laura, gentle and lyrical, sang softly, while Leon, broadshouldered and disciplined like a former officer, adored his wife. Their home was warm and inviting.
When they visited, Hartley greeted them with a surprised hum, Well, look at you, big lad. She blushed, Excuse me, Im just thrilled. What was his birth weight, love?
Leon, slightly flustered, asked, Do you need that for the adoption? Laura laughed, Hell keep us busy with questions anyway. Hartley waved it off, No need, you just look like Donuts family.
Laura entered the ward, took a deep breath, and approached the cot. Donuts tiny hand twitched in his sleep; a single tear glistened in his eye. He blinked, then stared at Laura. She leaned in, their gazes locked. He reached out, clutched her thumb with surprising strength. Everyone chuckled at his vigor. Laura smiled, whispered, Donut, Im here to stay, and he gave a faint, tentative giggle.
Hartley cleared her throat, Shall we wrap this up? Youll discuss at home.
Laura, unflinching, replied, Weve already decided. Hartley raised an eyebrow; Leon glanced at his wife, then said, Yes, we want this child.
Hartley tried to coax Donuts grip looser, Come on, give a little more pressure, pull back, but Laura calmly answered, Hes just scared youll leave. She looked at Donut, softening, Please let me go now, Ill be back. You must trust me. He hesitated, then released her finger, beaming with a bright, toothless grin and a delighted squeal.
Hartley muttered, Mmm, forgive us, Lord, his reflexes are strong at this age. Laura replied, Its just a reflex, hes worried I wont return.
Donuts tiny voice whispered, Ill believe you. The ward fell into a hopeful hush, the drama of abandonment giving way, at last, to a fragile, new beginning.
