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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1385804
A woman worries that her new baby isn't her own.
"This isn't my baby," Genevieve frowned at the sneering child in her arms.

Confused, the nurse inspected the band around the baby's ankle and compared the name on it to the matching band around Genevieve's wrist. She laughed, "Of course it's your baby. See?" She pointed a pudgy finger to the name on the baby's security anklet. "Evan Stearns. Isn't that your baby's name?"

"Yes, but this isn't my baby."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," sighed Genevieve. "First of all, my baby looks different. He's not so..." Genevieve hesitated, "funny-looking."

The nurse, who was named Janine according to her name badge, chuckled again. This time the chuckle had a condescending tone. "Honey, I'm sure you were so tired and elated after giving birth that your baby looked like a perfect little cherub in your eyes. The truth of the matter is most babies are pretty funny-looking, especially right after birth. He'll outgrow it soon."

Genevieve thought back to yesterday evening when she laid eyes on her newborn son for the very first time. She had felt so exhilirated at the sight of the child that she nurtured for the previous nine months that she hadn't cared what he looked like. She'd instantly snatched him into her arms and gazed at him adoringly. He was finally here, and he was hers. That made him perfect in her eyes.

That feeling was still there at the thought of the baby she held just an hour before, when Janine took him to the nursery so they could run some standard tests. But when she looked at this child, there was no feeling other than disconnect. She longed for the child she held before.  "Mine didn't look like this. This one's face is all squished. He looks like an old man."

"That's just trauma from the birth," argued Janine.

"He has hair all over his ears."

"It's called lanugo, it will fall out in a couple weeks."

Genevieve examined the baby again. His head was incredibly large, even for a baby, and his body was disproportionately short and very thin. His lashless eyes were so large that his expression reminded her of a spooked horse.  Genevieve gingerly touched the hair on the baby's ears. She remembered her niece was born with fine, soft lanugo on parts of her body; but this was curly and course.  As she pulled her hand back from the child's face, she couldn't help but feel that he would bite her if he had the chance.

As if it could sense her apprehension, the child let out a blood-curdling squeal. Genevieve shuddered. "I'm sorry, maybe it's just the hormones talking, but I really don't think this is my baby. Could you please go see if the bands somehow were switched with another baby's?"

Janine exhaled so sharply in exasperation that her over-processed bangs actually moved a bit. "Fine. All the other babies should be with their mothers now, so I'll go check with them and see if any of them have noticed anything odd. But with all the security measures we have in place these days, it's very unlikely." With that Janine took the baby and huffed out of the room.

Genevieve felt guilty for the amount of dislike she had for the baby that Janine brought to her. She couldn't shake the idea that there was something seriously wrong with the child. She didn't think that it had a disability or deformation, and she would love her own baby even if it did. She felt like the baby that was in her room moments ago wasn't even human. 

Genevieve laughed and shook her head. There was just some sort of mix-up with the security bands. She was sure that somewhere down the hall, there was a squished-faced, buggy-eyed, hairy-eared mother that was just as upset as she felt. Janine would find her little guy and bring him back to her any minute. She'd apologize for not believing Genevieve in the first place, and Genevieve's husband would return from letting their dog out and they could all have a good laugh over the mix-up.

To her surprise, Janine returned a few moments later with the same strange baby she'd brought the last time. "Well honey, I checked all the other babies. There's three girls, and the only other boy is half Korean, so I don't think  we would have mixed them up with yours."

Genevieve's eyes widened in a panic that only a mother could understand. "Is it possible somebody took him?"

Janine shook her head and held the baby's bony ankle out for her to see. "Remember the computerized anklet we put on immediately after he was born? If anybody would have taken it off, even for a moment, alarms would have sounded at the nurses station." The child began to squirm in Janine's arms and it let out that terrible cry again. "He's hungry. Why don't you try nursing him again? Maybe you'll feel more connected to him then." She placed the baby into Genevieve's unwilling arms.

Genevieve swallowed hard and pulled the swaddling blanket aside. As her hand brushed the baby's face, he suddenly snarled and bit her fingertip. Genevieve shrieked and pulled her hand away.

"Now what?" Janine snapped.

"He bit me!"

Janine sighed, "Of course he didn't bite you. He doesn't even have teeth for crying out loud!"

"Look!" Genevieve held her throbbing finger out for Janine to examine.

"It's just a little red. His sucking reflex is just really strong."

"I can't do this," Genevieve pushed the baby back to Janine and burst into tears. "I don't care what you say about how improbable it is, this is not my baby!" 

"Okay, just calm down," Janine's tone changed from irritated to cautious. "Would you like me to give him a bottle of formula instead?"

"I don't care what you do with that.. thing! That's not my baby." A thought suddenly occurred to Genevieve, "And I can prove it!"

Janine continued with her cautious tone, "Okay, how do you plan on doing that?"

Genevieve sniffled, "My husband will be back soon. He has our digital camera with him and he took a ton of pictures yesterday. I'll show you the pictures and you'll see that my baby looks completely different."

"Is there a problem in here?" Dr. Peterson, Genevieve's obstetrician entered the room with a look of concern clouding his normally cheerful face.

"Doctor, we might have a problem," Janine gave a quick head jerk in Genevieve's direction, as if she wouldn't see her. "Mrs. Stearns here insists this is not her baby, but I've checked on every possible scenario and there's no way this little guy isn't hers.

Genevieve was borderline hysterical at this point. "It's not my baby! I told you I'll prove it when my husband comes in with our camera!

"Well I'm sure he'll be here very soon," Dr. Peterson took on a grandfatherly tone. "Until then, why don't we give you something to help you rest?"

Genevieve wanted to protest, but she even sounded crazy to herself. Janine was right, there was really no way this baby wasn't hers. Maybe if she slept, she'd wake up and find her little Evan in her arms. This other baby would just be a bad dream. She bit her lip and stuck out her arm so Janine could stick the syringe into her arm.

As the drugs pulled at her consciousness, she caught pieces of Janine and Dr. Peterson's hushed conversation. They said things like "post-partum psychosis," and "strange, she seemed fine a couple hours ago." They must have left the baby in the cradle in her room because Genevieve would occasionally hear it screech, but the door was left conspicuously wide open.

At one point, her husband David entered the room with flowers and some of her things from home. She attempted to force herself to awaken when she saw him set the camera on the table, but the drugs refused to release her mind. She tried to call out to him, but only whispered his name before surrendering to the comforting blanket of sleep once again.



Thistle lay in the cradle and waited for the father to stop making stupid faces at him and leave the room. He had to get that camera before the mother woke up. He'd have to use up some of his limited magic, but this was an important enough reason. If she showed the pictures to the hospital staff, there would be questions that he couldn't afford to have asked. If the doctors examined him too closely, they wouldn't know what he was, but they might think he had some unique syndrome that warranted more tests and research. He really didn't want that.

Finally, the father glanced in the direction of the mother. Seeing she was still asleep, the father gave Thistle an affectionate pat and left the room.

"Now's my chance," Thistle thought. He made a pushing motion toward the open door and it eased shut. The next part would require a lot of concentration since his powers were not as strong here as they were at home. He closed his eyes tightly and imagined that he was as light as a feather. He gracefully floated up and towards the table with the camera. Once he destroyed the pictures of the couple's real baby he wouldn't have to worry about his true identity being discovered. The mother was onto him, but even she was beginning to think she was going insane. He reached out for the camera as he approached the table. He was so close now..

"I knew it!" The mother sat up in her bed, glaring at Thistle with such flames in her eyes that he worried her gaze would ignite his diaper on fire.

His concentration broken, Thistle crashed down to the floor, landing on his butt. Caught off guard and not knowing what else to do, he reached his arms out to the mother.

"Uh, Mama?" he stammered.


To be continued..

 




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