Christmas Babies

Chapter One

Madelyn Ramsey forced her leaden
legs to move along with the bustle of nurses and doctors. White coats and blue
scrubs flocked to the end of the conference room where the newly promoted
director of the Women’s Clinic at St. Lucy’s Hospital accepted hugs and
handshakes.

“Our best wishes, Dr. Preston.”

“Congratulations, Nick. You made
it, man.”

“Let’s celebrate tonight at the
Sea-Waves Bar,” Nick Preston hollered over the joyful cacophony. “My treat,” he
specified with his usual charismatic grin.

“Yeah.” His staff cheered and
scattered around.

Above the departing crowd, Nick’s
gaze questioned hers. Unease floated in the dark blue eyes of the
over-confident doctor. Madelyn moved closer to where he stood. She no longer
resented him for snatching the promotion she’d worked so hard to obtain—the
special Christmas gift she’d promised herself. To no avail.

New concerns had toppled her
ambitious dreams. For the first time in her life, she was forced to concentrate
on her health and worry about unexpected problems. Heck, she’d be lucky if she
could continue to practice past the Christmas holiday. Her fingers tingled and
her hand shook at the horrible prospect.

Lifting her chin, Madelyn
smothered the anxiousness that gnawed at her heart and reached the tall and
handsome doctor after most of the staff had withdrawn. “Nick, you’ll make a
wonderful director.” Ignoring his arms opened for a hug, she congratulated the
tall and handsome doctor with a bright smile.

“No hard feelings?” He dropped
his hands to his side and tilted his head, peering at her under arched
eyebrows. “You badly wanted the position.”

“I did. But we competed. You won.
You have more experience anyway. Fair is fair.”

“It’s good to hear you say that.
Thank you, Madelyn.” Still his frown didn’t relax. “I hope I’ll see you at the
Sea-Waves?”

Drinking, chatting, and cracking
jokes in a bar were the last items on her agenda tonight. She hesitated for a
fraction too long.

“If you’re too busy as usual…”
Nick’s sensuous lips curled at the corner with derision.

“Can’t miss such a special event,
Dr. Preston. I’ll be there. Probably a bit late. I have errands to run as soon
as I leave the hospital.” She’d turned down his invitation for dinner several
times in the past year, yet she didn’t want him to think she resented him for
his well-deserved promotion.

“As long as you show up, I’ll
feel honored.” He broke into a devilish smile that had worked its magic on
weaker feminine hearts.

Steel tweezers pinched her
insides. But she chuckled when his sober gaze focused on her. “Madelyn, I
wish—”

 “Sorry but I have to run
now if I want to make it to your celebration. See you later, Nick.”

“Sure. You’re always so busy.” He
gave her a knowing glance and nodded.

Without waiting for more, she
spun and strode out of the conference room. In her office, she peeled off her
white coat, gathered her purse, and braced herself for the most important
meeting of her life.

A moment later she cursed the
heavy traffic as her Toyota zoomed on Highway 95. Last week she’d managed to
get an appointment with a renowned neurologist in Miami. There was no way on
earth she’d visit a local doctor and risk unsavory questions from
well-intentioned acquaintances. Everyone in the medical community of Fort
Lauderdale knew each other and too many reveled in gossip and explosive news.
Dr. Ramsey retiring from Neonatology at the tender age of thirty-five would
churn many imaginations.
Oh God, I hope it doesn’t come to that
.

In the waiting room, she grabbed
an outdated magazine and sifted through the pages, hardly glancing at the
pictures, only to put it back on the side table and take a medical journal. The
commentaries about new facelift procedures and therapy for autistic children
didn’t retain her attention. She focused on a preemie article and avidly read.
Her fist clenched and unclenched. How long would she be able to dwell in the
delivery room and save tiny patients?

“Ms. Ramsey, this way please.” No
one had called her Ms. Ramsay for ages. Her smile faded as she realized how
much she valued being called Dr. Ramsay. The medical assistant led her to a
small office. “Have a seat. Dr. Lu will be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you.” Several diplomas
hung on a wall and attested to the physician’s competence. She had studied them
at length on her previous visit a week ago. Her back straight against the
leather chair, she surveyed the bookcase with a professional look and perused
the titles of the medical volumes on the middle shelf, all related to the
nervous system and its diseases.

Dr. Shawn Lu had been a good
choice. She trusted him as a doctor and a friend. He’d been her senior resident
at George Washington’s Hospital, years ago. Pressing both palms on her knees,
she urged herself to regain her calm and stop tapping the rug.

“Good evening, Madelyn.”

“Hi, Shawn.”

He shook her hand, sat behind his
desk, and opened a large folder. “I have the results of your MRI, encephalogram,
and blood tests.”

Her fingers entwined in her lap.
She twiddled her thumbs, held her breath, and prayed.

“They confirm that the shaking of
your hands and the two seizures you had last week are early symptoms of
epilepsy.” His level tone sounded like a death sentence.

Her shoulders slumped.
“Epi…lepsy?” The word lumped in her throat and she couldn’t say more.

Shawn left his chair and came
around to put a hand on her shoulder. “You were right to identify it early on. We
caught it in time to start a course of treatment.” His reassuring voice would
have soothed a non-medical patient but did little to her frazzled nerves.

“The disease will progress with
time.” Head bent, she mumbled. “I won’t be able to practice.”

“Who said so? Trust me, Madelyn,
we can control it.”

“For how long?” With a big sigh,
she opened her hands and stared at her palms. She needed her hands steady to
continue to save babies.

“For as long as we can. Dr.
Ramsay, I’m sure you always tell your patients not to give up. One of my other epileptic
patients is a surgeon. He’s been on medication for ten years and still
operates. You’ll do the same.”

“You’re right,” she said, too
drained to argue.

“I know you’re depressed at the
moment. But with the proper treatment, you can lead a normal life, continue to
practice.”

“What if I collapse in the
delivery room? What if my hands tremble while I’m holding a preemie?” Her voice
wobbled. “I may kill a baby instead of resuscitating him.”

“You won’t. Because you usually
have an aura at the beginning of your seizure, you’ll feel it coming. If it
happens, you can ask a nurse to help you hold the baby. So far you’ve only
suffered absence seizures where you stare blankly into space. You’ve never
collapsed. We will monitor you carefully. I also want you to get enough sleep
and avoid stress.”

“Avoid stress?” A bitter chuckle
escaped her. “Do you have a medicine for that too?”

“I wish I had. I’d have taken it
myself. Anyway, do your best. To avoid stress, I’ll advise you not to talk
about your condition
—
”

“Not even with my boss and
colleagues? Is it ethical?”

“I’d rather have you not tell
anyone for the next two weeks. You can always tell them later if the disease
progresses.” He gave her a glance full of pity, the same glance she gave the
parents of her little patients when announcing bad news.

His last words buzzed in her
ears.
If the disease progresses
. A shudder raked her.

Shawn grabbed her shoulders and
captured her gaze. “The less you think about your condition the better. You
should realize that if you’re continuously stressed, you may hyperventilate and
imagine symptoms you don’t really feel.”

“Of course, a type of induced
crisis.” She’d studied about such illusory cases during her psychiatric
rotation and wondered at the time how people could create their own diseases.
“Unfortunately, mine is too real.” Tears tickled her eyes.

“Madelyn, trust me. I’ll do
everything possible to help you lead a normal life.”

“I assume I shouldn’t drink
alcohol?”

“No alcohol at all.” He shook his
head.

“We’re celebrating Nick Preston’s
promotion tonight.”

“Ah, the position you so badly
wanted? I’m sorry.”

She waved away his sympathy.

“You can have a sip or two of
light beer. Nothing stronger.”

With a superhuman effort, she
smiled and nodded.“Thank you, Shawn. I’ll report to you next week.”

He held the door for her and
squeezed her hand. “Call me if you need to talk.”

“Sure.” She walked out as fast as
she could.

Afraid her tears might blur her
vision, she avoided the highway and turned onto Route 1. Instead of listening
to tapes of medical presentations, she switched on the radio. Passionate songs
filled the silence of the car. As if she needed some stupid singer to needle
her with tender words of love and forever. Exasperated, she tapped the radio
button off.

Thank God, she’d reached most of
her professional goals and didn’t regret her decisions to remain single.

Until now?
She could have
been married like Heather and holding adorable babies, or preparing a wedding
like Claire and Tiffany. Her younger sisters had managed to enjoy a husband—fiancé,
or boyfriend—without neglecting their jobs. Not Madelyn. Medical school,
innumerable exams, and hospital training had engulfed her life. Later, she devoted
one-hundred percent of her time and energy to her career.

Her fingers clutched the steering
wheel so hard her nails dug into the leather. Where had the time gone?

To think she’d come up with one
reason after another to shun relationships and concentrate on her patients. How
often had she reassured herself there’d be plenty of time to slow down and
start living later? At thirty? Maybe thirty five? Or when she’d reached the
directorship that now belonged to Nick Preston?

The same Nick she’d rejected in
the past—not because they’d competed at work.
Be honest.
Deep down she’d
been too afraid to fall in love and waste precious hours that should be dedicated
to her tiny patients.

A wail escaped her dry throat. Now
her career was in limbo. Now, marriage and family would be stowed in a folder
of unfulfilled dreams. Not that she had ever planned to get pregnant soon. But
thanks to the powerful medicines that could cause deformities in a fetus, having
babies was an absolute no-no. Uncontrollable sobs shook her shoulders.

Stop stressing.
She could
hear
Shawn chastizing her.

How?
When every thought
brought a bucketful of regrets and stress? She forced her fingers to stop
strangling the steering wheel and relax.

Maybe she could still have the
fun she’d deprived herself of so far. Fun would numb her pain. She punched a few
more buttons on the radio until rock music blared. Tears rolling down her
cheeks, she hiccupped and sang along as loud as she could until she drove into
the garage under her building and checked the time.