Neurosurgeon's IVF Mix-Up Miracle
Author
Annie Claydon
Reads
16.9K
Chapters
15
When a neurosurgeon's anonymous IVF donor turns out to be her colleague, the two expecting parents find themselves forging an unexpected connection in this final installment of the Christmas North and South miniseries. THE SHOCK OF THE SEASON! Widowed neurosurgeon Poppy always longed to be a mother. Now, thanks to IVF, she's a Christmas due date away from welcoming her tiny miracle. The only problem: a fertility clinic mix-up reveals Poppy's "anonymous" donor is actually Dylan, fellow neurosurgeon — and notorious playboy! Dylan's determined to be involved with his baby. Having an absent father has given him a terrifying urge to be a good dad. Being in a romantic relationship, however, is completely off-limits. Until an unexpected and intoxicating connection with Poppy flares to life…
CHAPTER ONE
MONDAY LUNCHTIME. Eight months pregnant and summoned to the fertility clinic by a telephone call from her doctor that morning. Just for a little chat to tie up some loose ends. If she could come at lunchtime, that would be perfect. Would half past twelve suit her?
Poppy Evans wasn’t entirely buying it. Dr Patel had sounded positive and upbeat, but had also insisted firmly that their meeting couldn’t wait until later in the week. In her experience, that kind of invitation wasn’t usually issued for loose ends of no consequence, and Poppy had spent the short taxi ride from the Great Southern Hospital to the fertility clinic trying not to list out possibilities in her head.
She was keeping it all under control. After all, she was a neurosurgeon—the kind of person who always had a steady hand and a cool head, whatever the situation. But as she approached the young woman behind the reception desk she felt her heart lurch with anxiety.
‘Poppy Evans for Dr Patel.’
The receptionist smiled, turning to a computer screen. ‘Thank you, I’ll let her know you’re here. Would you like to take a seat in the waiting room?’
Poppy remembered to return the smile, before walking through to the large, sensitively organised space. Groups of seats were organised around small occasional tables, with green plants and low-level partitions giving some semblance of privacy. No one needed to meet anyone else’s gaze if they didn’t want to, and Poppy had appreciated that when she’d first visited the clinic. She’d been able to pretend that the pregnant women, waiting with their partners, didn’t have everything that she’d once wanted.
If only Nate were here now...
Nate would understand how she felt. He’d listen to every one of her fears and wouldn’t try to dismiss them or tell her not to worry. He’d simply take her hand between his and tell her that he’d always be there for her, and that whatever came next they’d get through it together.
But Nate wasn’t here. When they’d made their vows and promised to love each other for the rest of their lives, neither of them could possibly have foreseen that Nate’s heart was a ticking time bomb. They’d been together for seven years and married for barely three on that fateful winter’s morning when Poppy had stood on the touchline, cheering the Great Southern team on in an inter-hospital football match. Nate had been the goalie for the team and just before half-time he’d made a dive for the ball. His heart had stopped before he hit the ground, and despite heroic efforts by his teammates he’d been beyond saving.
Poppy had spent every waking moment aching with grief. Every sleeping moment dreaming of the love she’d lost. The children that she and Nate had wanted together, deciding to wait for a few years after their wedding because they had all the time in the world...
Then Nate had come to her rescue. He would never have expected her to live her life alone, and although Poppy couldn’t bear to love anyone else the way she’d loved him she had plenty of room in her heart for a child. She’d taken her time to grieve, then gone through counselling and made new promises for the future, which had brought her here.
‘Hey there, baby...’ Poppy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find that elusive position of perfect relaxation, her mouth forming the shape of the words. ‘It’s going to be all right. You and I, we’re in this together.’
Somehow, that gave her the answer she needed. Poppy took a breath and then another, as instinct and unquestioning love began to steady her nerves.
‘Dylan Harper. I’m a little early.’ A voice that she knew floated over from the reception desk and Poppy looked up. The man was facing the receptionist, but one glance at the shock of blond hair and the perfectly fitting grey suit was enough to tell Poppy that she hadn’t misheard. However unlikely, this was the Dylan Harper she knew.
Not well—although she and Dylan were both neurosurgeons at the Great Southern Hospital, he had a busy schedule. It wasn’t easy to combine his role of hotshot surgeon, a man who could take on the most difficult cases and achieve the best possible result, with all of that gorgeous charm and sex appeal, which he shared liberally with a string of different partners. Their paths had inevitably crossed, and she’d been impressed with his skill and professionalism, but she’d left it at that. His deep blue eyes didn’t have the same power over Poppy as they seemed to wield over practically every other female member of the department.
Forget it. She had her own concerns and now wasn’t the time to wonder what business Dylan might have at a fertility clinic. Poppy rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself for wondering what Dylan was up to when it really wasn’t any of her business, and with him for... She wasn’t quite sure what Dylan had done to annoy her. A multitude of small niggles that boiled down to the fact that he didn’t appear to value the things that she did.
The receptionist was waving him straight through to the corridor behind her, where the consulting rooms were located. Apparently, he wasn’t going to be asked to wait, even though he was early. Poppy shifted again in her seat and saw Dr Patel hurrying towards her.
‘Hi, Poppy.’ Something about her smile lacked its usual warmth. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. ‘How are you?’
‘I was thinking that you might tell me.’ Poppy was getting a little frustrated, and wished that someone would get to the point and tell her why she was here.
‘Yes...yes, of course. This isn’t a medical matter...we just need to have a chat.’
Enough with the code words and vague reassurances. ‘My baby’s all right?’ This wasn’t really the place to ask, but the waiting room was empty and it was the only question that Poppy needed to know the answer to.
Dr Patel suddenly looked her straight in the eye. That was better. ‘I’ve reviewed all your notes and your baby’s fine. Come with me, and we’ll talk.’
Okay. Dylan had disappeared now and Poppy followed Dr Patel to her consulting room. She refused the offer of a cup of herbal tea, and was waved over to an informal seating area to one side of the desk.
Dr Patel sat down opposite her. ‘As you know, Poppy, we have very strict procedures to ensure that the rights and confidentiality of both our donors and recipients are protected.’
Poppy nodded. That was exactly what she’d wanted. This baby was the one that she’d longed for, and which she and Nate couldn’t have. The list of traits which had helped her to choose a father for her child had been all the better for being impersonal.
‘I can only apologise for this—’
‘Get to the point!’ Poppy regretted the words immediately and shot Dr Patel an apologetic look. ‘Please. I’ve always appreciated your straightforwardness, and that’s what I need from you now.’
Dr Patel nodded, concern flashing in her eyes. ‘I have to tell you that the biological father of the child you’re carrying is not the donor that you chose.’
What? Poppy pressed her lips together, aware that she should probably keep her first thoughts to herself, and give the information a chance to sink in. Dr Patel was watching her, a concerned look on her face, and thankfully giving her time to process it all.
‘You mean...?’ Poppy still couldn’t think of a coherent question. ‘Say that again...’
Dr Patel nodded, swallowing hard. ‘A mistake was made at the facility we use to store donations, and your eggs were fertilised with sperm from the wrong donor.’
Okay. That didn’t leave any room for doubt. Poppy took a breath. ‘How on earth did this happen?’
‘As you know, we use an independent storage facility.’ Dr Patel repeated the information a second time, in case Poppy had missed it the first. ‘They informed us as soon as they were aware, and have cooperated with our request to give us access to their records. All of my enquiries over the weekend have convinced me that this is a genuine mistake.’
Poppy waved her hand abruptly and Dr Patel fell silent. ‘When did you know about this? My baby hasn’t been DNA tested—what makes you so sure that there even has been a mistake?’
‘The facility called and spoke to me late on Friday afternoon. I spent most of Saturday there, going through their procedures, so that I would have a clear report to give to you today. There’s a complete audit trail, backed up by hard copy records, which confirms exactly who the biological father of your baby is.’
‘And it’s not the person I chose.’
‘No, it isn’t.’
So there was no doubt. Poppy was about to have a child and had no idea who the father might be. The baby inside her seemed to pick up on her agitation and started to kick. She absentmindedly rubbed her stomach to soothe it, and realised that she wasn’t thinking straight. This was her baby. She’d carried it for eight months, looking after it for every step of the way. Nothing could make her love it any less, and it wasn’t humanly possible to love it any more.
‘So... If the records are so unequivocal, how did this happen?’
‘The storage facility and this clinic have agreed on a joint enquiry, and I’ve been nominated to lead it. We’re committed to maintaining transparency and keeping you informed.’
Right. Poppy wasn’t used to being on this side of the conversation. She’d feel a lot happier if she was in control—making enquiries and drawing conclusions herself. She might have to fight those battles later, though, because she had a more pressing question.
‘And the biological father of my baby...?’
‘He was contacted yesterday and Dr Neave, the director of this clinic, spoke with him. He agreed immediately that you should have sight of his medical records, and also suggested that if you would like to meet with him he would be prepared to waive his own confidentiality rights.’
Another person who’d been told before she had. But it put Poppy in charge of at least part of the process, so she’d let that slide for the moment. The biological father probably wouldn’t have the same medical understanding she had, but his gesture meant that she could ask him all the right questions, and hear his answers first-hand.
‘Okay. I don’t want to meet with him, but I think I need to. I’d be grateful if you would arrange that as soon as possible.’
‘We can arrange it for you now. He’s agreed to make himself available and is in this building, with Dr Neave. Or you can think about it—maybe sleep on it?’ Dr Patel hesitated. ‘Whatever you decide, I want you to know that I’ll be with you all the way.’
There was nothing to decide. Poppy shook her head. ‘You understand that I’m well equipped to make the best medical decisions for my child.’
Dr Patel smiled suddenly. ‘Yes, I do.’ She got to her feet, walking over to her desk to pick up a folder, which she handed to Poppy. ‘For our own records, we need you to sign a waiver first, with regard to your own confidentiality rights.’
‘You have a pen?’ Poppy scanned the three copies of the document inside.
‘Yes, I do. But you’re going to take your time and read everything through first. And I’m going to fetch you a cup of herbal tea, whether you want it or not.’ Dr Patel’s practical, dry humour surfaced and Poppy smiled.
‘Yes, okay. Thanks. On second thoughts, I think I could do with a drink.’
Dylan Harper had thought about little else since yesterday afternoon. It had come as a shock to find that his sperm donation, which had been frozen some years previously, had been given to someone by mistake. A process that was shrouded in confidentiality suddenly seemed intensely personal.
He couldn’t allow himself to have feelings, though. When the director of the fertility clinic had called him, Dylan had insisted on meeting with him straight away. Dr Neave had explained all his options and Dylan had made a decision. The anonymous woman who was carrying his baby was clearly the most vulnerable person in all of this and, as such, her needs and decisions should take priority over his. He’d waived his own confidentiality rights, and made himself available today.
The needs of the expectant mother—who Dylan was struggling not to think of as the mother of his baby—clearly didn’t involve him at the moment. He’d been sitting in Dr Neave’s office, waiting, for more than half an hour. Dr Neave had tried to engage him in conversation for a while and when that hadn’t worked for either of them he’d left Dylan alone to read a magazine.
Maybe this had been a wasted journey. Dylan stared at the clock, wondering if he should leave, and then decided that he shouldn’t because, however this turned out, the journey hadn’t been wasted at all. It was all about options—and if the expectant mother rejected the option of meeting with him today, that was fine.
He sighed, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling. Then jumped as Dr Neave came back into the office.
‘The mother would like to meet you. Are you ready?’ Dr Neave had already expressed his reservations about Dylan’s insistence that she should take priority in everything, and told him that he was here to advocate for him.
‘Far from it.’ Dylan ignored Dr Neave’s suggestion that he was perfectly within his rights to wait a while. ‘Let’s go, shall we?’ He wasn’t in the habit of going back on his decisions once they were made.
It took a slightly irritable hurry-up glare before Dr Neave joined him in the corridor, heading for one of the consulting rooms at the far end of the corridor. Dr Neave tapped on the door, waiting for a moment until a woman’s voice sounded, inviting them in, and Dylan was ushered into the room.
Then the thunderbolt hit.
Two women were sitting on the sofa. The one who clearly wasn’t pregnant would be Dr Patel, the deputy director of the clinic. And the one who very obviously was...
‘Ms Evans.’ The sudden, enforced intimacy of the situation felt as if it were strangling him and Dylan instinctively tried to draw back from the sensation. But even though they didn’t know each other well, he and Poppy had never gone quite as far as referring to each other as Ms Evans and Mr Harper. ‘Poppy...’
That might have been a wrong move. Poppy’s eyes filled with tears and Drs Neave and Patel were looking at each other, seemingly at a loss. No surgeon liked to be wrong-footed, least of all Dylan Harper, but he knew exactly what he needed to do. Poppy’s care was the one and only priority.
That wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d imagined it might be. Dylan had always liked Poppy and moreover he respected her. She was the best surgeon in the whole department, with the possible exception of himself, and her intelligent, no-nonsense approach would beguile any man.
And she was beautiful, too. When she’d first come to work at the Great Southern Hospital he’d regarded Poppy as gorgeous but strictly off-limits, because she was married. Then, when she’d lost her husband so tragically, Dylan had kept his distance even more assiduously, a little ashamed that Poppy’s slim figure, red hair and expressive hazel eyes should still provoke a reaction in him.
And now she was in the full bloom of pregnancy, which seemed to push all of his buttons as well. Poppy had always been professional in their dealings, but if Dylan had to take a guess at her opinion of him he’d probably settle for mild dislike. Which didn’t make him much of a candidate as biological father of her unborn child.
Of course, she’d never wanted a father for her child. She’d wanted an anonymous donor, who had passed all of the genetic screening and health tests. Even this much contact was more than she’d ever envisaged, and the fact that they knew each other made everything even worse.
One tear rolled down her cheek in the silence. Maybe he should say something, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything that might be either helpful or appropriate. Telling her that surely it wasn’t so bad to find that he was the biological father of her child felt more like a salve for his own ego than a reassurance.
‘You’re not operating today?’ Poppy’s voice quivered a little.
Fair enough. If she wanted to ignore the elephant in the room and discuss his operating schedule, then that might give them both a chance to get their breath back.
‘No. I had two early morning procedures, and I may need to see a patient late this afternoon. Dr Shah will fill in for me if necessary.’
Poppy nodded. ‘I was in post-op this morning. Both your patients are doing well.’
‘That’s good to hear. Thank you.’ Dylan resisted the temptation to ask for a more detailed update. Right now, he could hardly remember what he’d been doing in the operating room this morning, which was unusual as he could usually give a blow-by-blow account of every procedure he’d performed at the end of each day.
He reminded himself that he’d decided to take on the role of protector, even if that had never been an option for either of them before. He walked forward, sitting down in the armchair opposite Poppy.
‘This is a shock for both of us.’ He took a breath, letting go of everything that his suddenly vulnerable heart wanted. ‘I just want to say...’
Dylan fell silent as Poppy held up her hand, clearly not ready to hear what he had to say just yet. He was vaguely aware that Dr Neave had come to sit down in the seat alongside his, and that he was giving Poppy the same kind of professional smile that he’d given Dylan.
‘Poppy, you clearly know Dylan, which is something that couldn’t have been anticipated when we started on this journey. I think we need to take a moment to reframe the conversation.’ Dr Neave spoke and Dylan resisted the temptation to tell him that calling this a journey wasn’t going to make it into a walk in the park.
‘This journey?’ Poppy flashed back, and Dylan suppressed a smile. This, more than anything, convinced him that Poppy was going to be all right.
Dr Neave nodded. ‘I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry and that was a bad choice of words. Shall we break for a cup of tea and see where we are in half an hour?’
‘No more tea.’ Poppy was beginning to sound much more sure of her ground now, and that was exactly what Dylan wanted. He turned to her, catching her gaze, and saw a warmth in her hazel eyes that he’d never stopped to notice before.
‘What do you want, Poppy?’
