Blair Bathory

Desperation gnawed at her. She called the pediatrician. She's not responding normally, Mara said. There's something wrong with her eyes. She doesn't smile. She doesn't cry right. The doctor listened kindly but dismissed her fears, telling her maternal intuition is powerful. But sometimes, after a traumatic delivery, it turns on you. She's hypervigilant. But the baby is fine, Mara nodded.

Desperation gnawed at her. She called the pediatrician. She's not responding normally, Mara said. There's something wrong with her eyes. She doesn't smile. She doesn't cry right. The doctor listened kindly but dismissed her fears, telling her maternal intuition is powerful. But sometimes, after a traumatic delivery, it turns on you. She's hypervigilant. But the baby is fine, Mara nodded.

But inside, she screamed. That night, the monitor caught something else. Junebug was standing, not pulling herself up, not wobbling, standing. Both tiny hands pressed flat against the crib rails, head cocked unnaturally to the side, eyes staring straight into the camera lens. Frozen, Mara watched as the baby's lips peeled back, not quite smiling, something more ancient than joy.

But inside, she screamed. That night, the monitor caught something else. Junebug was standing, not pulling herself up, not wobbling, standing. Both tiny hands pressed flat against the crib rails, head cocked unnaturally to the side, eyes staring straight into the camera lens. Frozen, Mara watched as the baby's lips peeled back, not quite smiling, something more ancient than joy.

But inside, she screamed. That night, the monitor caught something else. Junebug was standing, not pulling herself up, not wobbling, standing. Both tiny hands pressed flat against the crib rails, head cocked unnaturally to the side, eyes staring straight into the camera lens. Frozen, Mara watched as the baby's lips peeled back, not quite smiling, something more ancient than joy.

The floor creaked. The slapping sounds began again, closer this time. A rhythmic drag of knees on wood, a shuffle of tiny palms. Mara locked the bedroom door. She shook her husband awake, sobbing. He held her as she shuddered and whispered, That's not our baby. The next morning, Mara made her husband take Junebug to the park, just for an hour. She needed time to think, time to know.

The floor creaked. The slapping sounds began again, closer this time. A rhythmic drag of knees on wood, a shuffle of tiny palms. Mara locked the bedroom door. She shook her husband awake, sobbing. He held her as she shuddered and whispered, That's not our baby. The next morning, Mara made her husband take Junebug to the park, just for an hour. She needed time to think, time to know.

The floor creaked. The slapping sounds began again, closer this time. A rhythmic drag of knees on wood, a shuffle of tiny palms. Mara locked the bedroom door. She shook her husband awake, sobbing. He held her as she shuddered and whispered, That's not our baby. The next morning, Mara made her husband take Junebug to the park, just for an hour. She needed time to think, time to know.

She dug through the hospital discharge paperwork, through the bag of clothes the nurses had returned, through the belongings from the NICU, At the very bottom of the bag, crumpled and half-forgotten, she found it. A second hospital bracelet. Not the one Mara wore during delivery. Not the one she remembered seeing on Junebug's tiny wrist. This one was different. Faded. Scratched.

She dug through the hospital discharge paperwork, through the bag of clothes the nurses had returned, through the belongings from the NICU, At the very bottom of the bag, crumpled and half-forgotten, she found it. A second hospital bracelet. Not the one Mara wore during delivery. Not the one she remembered seeing on Junebug's tiny wrist. This one was different. Faded. Scratched.

She dug through the hospital discharge paperwork, through the bag of clothes the nurses had returned, through the belongings from the NICU, At the very bottom of the bag, crumpled and half-forgotten, she found it. A second hospital bracelet. Not the one Mara wore during delivery. Not the one she remembered seeing on Junebug's tiny wrist. This one was different. Faded. Scratched.

And the name printed on it wasn't Mara's. Wasn't even close. Heart hammering, Mara rushed to the hospital, clutching the bracelet and shaking fingers. The receptionist smiled too brightly. A nurse offered her a careful, pitying glance. Someone made a call from behind the desk, whispering urgently. Mara was ushered into a back room, a social worker already waiting.

And the name printed on it wasn't Mara's. Wasn't even close. Heart hammering, Mara rushed to the hospital, clutching the bracelet and shaking fingers. The receptionist smiled too brightly. A nurse offered her a careful, pitying glance. Someone made a call from behind the desk, whispering urgently. Mara was ushered into a back room, a social worker already waiting.

And the name printed on it wasn't Mara's. Wasn't even close. Heart hammering, Mara rushed to the hospital, clutching the bracelet and shaking fingers. The receptionist smiled too brightly. A nurse offered her a careful, pitying glance. Someone made a call from behind the desk, whispering urgently. Mara was ushered into a back room, a social worker already waiting.

Mara, the woman said gently, your baby is healthy. You're under a lot of stress. Why don't we sit down and talk? No, Mara said, voice breaking. That's not my baby. The social worker's mouth pressed into a thin line. Very carefully, she folded her hands on the table. She looked around cautiously, as if the walls were listening. She was scared. Mara could see it all over her face.

Mara, the woman said gently, your baby is healthy. You're under a lot of stress. Why don't we sit down and talk? No, Mara said, voice breaking. That's not my baby. The social worker's mouth pressed into a thin line. Very carefully, she folded her hands on the table. She looked around cautiously, as if the walls were listening. She was scared. Mara could see it all over her face.

Mara, the woman said gently, your baby is healthy. You're under a lot of stress. Why don't we sit down and talk? No, Mara said, voice breaking. That's not my baby. The social worker's mouth pressed into a thin line. Very carefully, she folded her hands on the table. She looked around cautiously, as if the walls were listening. She was scared. Mara could see it all over her face.

In a whisper, she told Mara, we're aware. But you need to understand, Junebug isn't the only one. Outside in the maternity ward, new mothers cooed over their newborns, tying perfect bundles tucked into pink and blue blankets, rows and rows of bassinets.

In a whisper, she told Mara, we're aware. But you need to understand, Junebug isn't the only one. Outside in the maternity ward, new mothers cooed over their newborns, tying perfect bundles tucked into pink and blue blankets, rows and rows of bassinets.

In a whisper, she told Mara, we're aware. But you need to understand, Junebug isn't the only one. Outside in the maternity ward, new mothers cooed over their newborns, tying perfect bundles tucked into pink and blue blankets, rows and rows of bassinets.