Wanted: Parents for a Baby!

Just like the IV, a feeding tube was a necessity for babies on ventilators. Even without the breathing support, Emma would likely need to be tube fed because of the seizure medication.

She helped hold Emma’s head and body steady as Dr. Ryan inserted the feeding tube. Emma didn’t like it much. Her tiny arms and legs flailed a bit, but then the tube was in her stomach and the worst of the discomfort was over.

“I’m so glad she won’t remember this,” Cassie murmured. “I feel like we’re torturing her.”

“We’re not,” Dr. Ryan said softly. “She’s strong, she’ll pull through this.”

“I know,” she said huskily, trying not to give in to the urge to cry. No baby should have to suffer and it was hard not to pass judgment on the baby’s mother for allowing this to happen.

She subtly swiped at her eyes and turned to the feeding pump to program in the proper rate. Ryan came up beside her and put his hand lightly on her arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky voice.

She wasn’t, but partially because his skin was so warm and tingly, she couldn’t think. “Um, sure. I’m fine. Emma’s the one I’m worried about.”

“Me, too. But I’m confident you’ll take good care of her. You’re an incredible nurse, Cassie,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” she protested. “I just happen to love babies.”

“I can tell. As I said before, you’re a natural.”

She glanced up at him, mesmerized by his ocean-blue gaze. Awareness shimmered between them, and suddenly she couldn’t seem to remember why she needed to keep her distance from him. He seemed to understand her so well.

Better than her husband ever had.

With an effort, she tore her gaze away to glance back down at Emma. She knew very well why she needed to stay away. She’d suffered two miscarriages and her doctor had told her not to get pregnant until she’d had surgery. And even then, he’d told her, there could be scarring, preventing her from ever having a baby of her own.

And deep down she was afraid to risk getting pregnant again. She might not survive the emotional distress of another miscarriage.

“Cassie?” Ryan’s voice pulled her from her sad thoughts. But before he could say anything more, the social worker approached, accompanied by a woman in her midforties wearing a badly fitting suit.

“Hi, Cassie, Dr. Murphy. This is Judith from CPS.”

Cassie stepped away from Ryan and nodded at Judith. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. What can you tell me about Emma’s condition?” Judith asked, getting right down to business. The way she barely glanced at the baby grated on Cassie’s nerves.

“She’s been a sick little girl, but she’s stable at the moment. We’re supporting her breathing and giving anti-seizure medication.”

“I see. What’s the cause of her illness?”

“Her lab tests just came back positive for opiates, although the level isn’t as high as I expected,” Ryan admitted.

“So the mother was a drug addict.” Judith didn’t look at all happy with the news. “We could go after the mother for child abuse.”

“Please, don’t.” Cassie spoke up. “She gave up her child under the safe-haven law. If the word gets out that we’re going after the mother, others may not risk doing the same.”

Judith grimaced and nodded. “I know, but it still makes me angry. How long before the baby is able to be discharged?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, but probably a week or two, maybe more. Depends on how well she responds to treatment.”