At the hospital records desk, I handed over the document.
“I need to find out where this came from.”
The employee examined it.
“These records are from 2008?”
“Yes. I gave birth here that year. My delivery was complicated. I hemorrhaged and was sedated for part of it.”
She searched her computer.
“Some records that old are archived off-site. I can request them.”
“How long will that take?”
“Several days.”
“I can’t wait that long. Does anyone who worked in the maternity ward back then still work here?”
She hesitated.
“Susan. She’s a senior midwife now.”
Keep reading — tap the button below to continue.Twenty minutes later, a gray-haired woman entered the consultation room.
“Rachel?”
My heart raced. “You remember me?”
“Not many eighteen-year-olds came through here with a terrified nineteen-year-old husband.”
I almost smiled. “That sounds like Mark.”
“How is he?”
“He died three years ago.”
Her expression softened.
