“Take your mother and leave,” demanded the daughter-in-law at the maternity ward.
“Hello, Lucy, how are you?” Margaret pressed the phone to her ear and perched on the edge of the bed. “Has labour started?”
“Mum, everythings fine for now,” Lucys voice sounded tired. “The doctor said its still early, but we should go to the hospital just in case.”
“Of course, of course! Ive already packed my bag. Is Daniel coming from work?”
“Yes, hes on his way. Mum, just dont worry too much, alright? Everything will be fine.”
Margaret smiled into the phone. Lucy always cared for others, even when she needed support herself.
“Alright, love. Well be there soon.”
She hung up and hurriedly got dressed. Her bag was already stuffed with oranges, biscuits, and a thermos of hot teaeverything she might need during the long wait in the hospital corridors.
Daniel arrived half an hour later, flustered and restless.
“Mum, come on,” he said, helping her into the car. “Her contractions are already ten minutes apart.”
“Calm down, son,” Margaret patted his arm. “First labours are never quick. Well make it.”
But she was just as anxious as he was. Lucy was petite, and her pregnancy had been toughconstant nausea, swelling, erratic blood pressure. The doctors insisted everything was normal, but a mothers heart never truly rests.
At the hospital, a stern nurse in her fifties greeted them without looking up from her clipboard.
“Here for delivery?”
“Yes, this is her,” Daniel said, guiding Lucy forward.
“Documents and maternity notes, please,” the nurse held out her hand. “Relatives wait in the corridorno going upstairs.”
Lucy was led away, leaving Margaret and Daniel in the crowded waiting area. Other anxious families sat clutching flowers and overnight bags, all wearing the same worried expressions.
“Mum, how long do you think itll take?” Daniel paced between rows of plastic chairs.
“No idea, love. Every womans different. When you were born, it took eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen hours?” He paled.
“Nothing to fret over. Look how strong you turned out,” she said, trying to reassure him.
An hour passed, then another. Daniel called the nurses station every half-hour, but the updates were always the same: “Progressing normally, keep waiting.”
“Maybe you should go home?” Margaret suggested. “Change clothes, eat something. Ill stay here.”
“No, Mum, I cant. What if something happens?”
“What could happen? Lucys strongshell manage.”
But he refused. He sat fidgeting, stepping outside to smoke every half-hour, returning with cheeks red from the cold.
By evening, a midwife appeared.
“Family of Whitmore?” she called into the corridor.
Margaret and Daniel jumped up.
“Thats us! How is she? Has she had the baby?”
“Not yet. Labours slowwell need to induce.”
“Is that safe?” Margaret asked, alarmed.
“Standard procedure,” the midwife waved her off. “Plenty of mums need it.”
She left, leaving them with fresh worries.
“Mum, what if she needs a C-section?” Daniel resumed his pacing.
“If she does, theyll do it. The important thing is both mum and baby are healthy.”
That night, Margaret dozed off in a chair, bundled in her coat. Daniel didnt sleepjust smoked and called the nurses station.
By dawn, the midwife returned.
“Well, Grandma and Grandpa, congratulations!” she beamed. “A little girlthree kilos and two hundred grams.”
“And Lucy?” they asked in unison.
“Perfectly fine. Exhausted, but she did brilliantly. Were just stitching her up now, then shell go to recovery.”
Daniel hugged his mother, and they both criedrelieved and spent.
“Grandma,” Margaret repeated, wiping her eyes. “Imagine that, Dannyyoure a dad now!”
“And youre a grandma,” he grinned. “Our little girls here!”
They were only allowed into the postnatal ward by midday. Lucy lay pale but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle.
“Look at her,” she whispered, showing them their daughter.
Margaret leaned in, gazing at the pink, wrinkled face.
“Oh, my precious,” she murmured. “Shes got your nose, Danny.”
“Mum, really?” Lucy laughed. “Shes only a few hours old!”
“But I can see it. Your eyes, your noseright, Danny?”
Her son stood mesmerised, too afraid to touch the baby.
“Take her,” Lucy offered.
“What if I break her? Shes so small.”
“You wont,” Lucy chuckled. “Youre her dad now.”
Gently, Daniel lifted his daughter. She yawned and dozed off again.
“What shall we call her?” he asked.
“We agreedEmily,” Lucy said.
“Emily,” Margaret repeated. “Lovely name.”
They stayed in the ward till evening, taking turns holding the baby, taking photos, making plans. Margaret was already picturing pram shopping and walks in the park.
“Lucy, maybe I should stay with you for a bit?” she offered. “Help with the baby. Ive got experience.”
Lucy smiled. “Of course, Mum. Id feel better with you there.”
“Brilliant. Ill start on the nursery tomorrow. Danny, the wallpapers too brightwell need to change it.”
“Mum, maybe wait?” Daniel said carefully. “Lucys not even home yet. No rush.”
“Why wait? Shell be discharged in a week, and the nursery wont be ready. No, wed best crack on.”
A nurse entered. “Visiting hours are over.”
Margaret kissed Lucys forehead. “Rest, love. Well be back tomorrow.”
At home, she couldnt sleep, her heart bursting. A granddaughter! Little Emily, who shed love more than life itself.
The next morning, Margaret hit the baby shops. She bought vests, booties, blankets, toysnearly emptying her pension savings, but it was worth it. Nothing was too good for her granddaughter.
Daniel frowned at the bags. “Mum, why so much? Lucys parents will bring things too.”
“Let them. Emily will use it all anyway. Speaking ofwhere are they? Why havent they visited?”
“Theyre awayremember? Three-week spa break.”
“Oh, right. Well, plenty of love to go around.”
The next day, Lucy seemed down when they arrived.
“Whats wrong?” Margaret asked.
“The doctor said Emily has jaundice. Not serious, but she cant go home yet.”
“Is that dangerous?” Daniel paled.
“No, common in newborns. But shell need five more days under the lights.”
“Dont fret,” Margaret soothed. “Shell be right as rain. Weve got good doctors here.”
Emily lay under a blue lamp, tiny and fragile. Margaret couldnt stop staring.
“Lucy, are you breastfeeding?”
“Trying, but my milks slow. Were topping up with formula.”
“Thats alrightitll come. Just stay calm. Stress affects supply.”
“I know, Mum. Trying not to panic.”
Three other mums shared the room. One, Sarah, had become Lucys friend.
“Is this your mother-in-law?” she asked when Margaret stepped away.
“Yes. Shes wonderfulso helpful.”
“Youre lucky,” Sarah sighed. “Mine just criticises. Says I hold the baby wrong, fold nappies wrong.”
Lucy smiled. “Mum just gets it. Shes been through it all.”
Overhearing, Margaret warmed inside. So Lucy did appreciate her efforts.
For days, Margaret arrived early and left latebringing home-cooked meals, magazines, sitting with Emily so Lucy could rest. Daniel visited when work allowed.
“Mum, arent you exhausted?” Lucy asked. “Coming every day?”
“Dont be silly! Nothings exhausting for my girls.”
On day five, the doctor cleared Emily for discharge. Margaret was overjoyed.
“Lucy, Ive got everything readycot assembled, bedding washed. Even bought a baby bath.”
“Thank you, Mum. I dont know what wed do without you.”
On discharge day, Daniel took leave. They bundled Lucy and Emily into the car, driving home like a triumphant parade.
At home, Margaret buzzed like a beewarming bottles, changing nappies, rocking Emily when she fussed.
“Mum, why dont you rest?” Lucy said. “I can manage.”
“Nonsense! You need to recover. Doctors orders.”
Lucy obeyed, while Margaret cradled Emily.
“My precious,” she cooed. “Such a good girl for Grandma.”
Daniel watched, smiling. “Mum, youve come alive since Emily arrived.”
“Course I have! Shes my granddaughter, my heart.”
The first days passed in a blur. Margaret woke for night feeds so Lucy could sleep. She cooked, cleaned, felt needed.
But gradually, Lucy grew quiet and withdrawn.
“Love, are you feeling alright?” Margaret asked.
“Im fine. Just tired.”
“But youre barely doing anything! Ive taken care of it all.”
“Thats why Im tired,” Lucy said softly.
Margaret didnt understand. How could resting exhaust her?
Tensions rose when Lucy wanted to bathe Emily herself.
“Why strain over the tub? Ill do it.”
“But shes *my* baby.”
“Of course she is. But Ive got more experience.”
Lucy fell silent, eyes hurt.
Things came to a head when Emily cried at night. Margaret rushed in first.
“Whats wrong, sweetheart? Hungry?”
Lucy appeared, groggy. “Mum, give her here. She needs breastfeeding.”
“Wouldnt formula be better? Your milks still low.”
“Mum, the doctor said breastfeedings important. *Please*.”
Reluctantly, Margaret handed Emily over. Lucy settled in the nursing chair, while Margaret hovered.
“Lucy, youre holding her wrong. Support her head higher.”
“Mum, the midwife showed me how.”
“But shes uncomfortable. Here, let me”
“No, Mum. *Please.*”
Lucys voice cracked. Margaret finally noticed her tears.
“Lucy, whats wrong?”
“Im just exhausted. I want to care for my baby. But you do everything.”
“But Im *helping*! Isnt that good?”
“Help is good. But when I cant even hold her thats not help.”
Margaret was stung. Shed only meant to ease Lucys burden.
Daniel stumbled in, bleary-eyed. “Whats going on?”
“Talk to your mum,” Lucy whispered. “Explain.”
“Explain *what*?”
“Lucy thinks Im overbearing,” Margaret said stiffly.
“Mum, its not about quantity,” Daniel said gently. “Shes right. She needs to learn.”
“So Im *in the way*!” Margarets voice trembled. “I thought I was helping, but Im just a nuisance.”
“Mum, dont”
“No, its clear. The mother-in-law outstays her welcome.”
She locked herself in the guest room, crying. All her efforts, unappreciated.
Next morning, Lucy knocked.
“Mum? Can we talk?”
Margaret sat stiffly. Lucy entered, Emily in her arms.
“I didnt mean to hurt you. Youve done so muchI *am* grateful.”
“Grateful people dont accuse others of smothering them.”
“I didnt say that. I just want to be *her mum*.”
Silence.
“Lets compromise,” Lucy said. “You handle housework; Ill handle Emily. But Ill *ask* when I need help.”
Margaret glanced at Emilysleeping peacefully.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Well try.”
For days, Lucy took chargefeeding, bathing, nappies. Margaret bit her tongue, watching Lucy grow steadier.
One night, Emily wailed, inconsolable. Lucy rocked her, sangnothing worked.
“Let me try,” Margaret said.
Defeated, Lucy handed her over. Margaret cuddled Emily close, humming, rubbing her back. Slowly, the cries subsided.
“How do you *do* that?” Lucy gasped.
“Practice. Danny was colicky too.”
“Teach me?”
And Margaret didshowing her tricks for gas, gentle massages. Lucy listened, learned.
“Mum, thank you,” she said later. “Id be lost without you.”
“Youre doing brilliantly, love. It just takes time.”
Balance returned. Lucy led Emilys care, Margaret advised.
Weeks passed. Emily grew, smiled. Margaret adored her; Lucy grew confident. Daniel watched, content.
Then Lucys parents visited, tanned from holiday.
“Oh, shes *beautiful*!” Lucys mum gushed, grabbing Emily.
Margarets smile tightened. Two grandmas were normal, but it stung.
They left after a few hours, promising to return.
The next day, trouble came.
“Why is Margaret still here?” Lucys mum whisperedthinking Margaret couldnt hear.
“Shes helping us,” Lucy said.
“But its been a *month*. Dont you want privacy?”
Margarets heart clenched. So *they* wanted her gone too.
That evening, she approached Lucy.
“Love, maybe I *should* go home?”
Lucy blinked. “Why? Because of Mum?”
“I heard her. Maybe shes right. You need space.”
“Mum, I *like* having you here. I need your advice.”
“What does Daniel want? Maybe *he* wants just his family?”
Daniel, when asked, hesitated.
“Honestly? If Lucy wants you here, stay.”
Relief. But Lucys parents kept pressuringhinting Margaret was overstaying.
One night, Emily spiked a fever, crying uncontrollably.
“Call an ambulance!” Lucy panicked.
“Wait,” Margaret soothed, checking Emilys gums. “Teething. Early, but possible.”
The doctor confirmed itno danger, just early teeth.
Lucy exhaled, looking at Margaret anewnot as interference, but as safety.
“Mum, Im sorry,” she whispered. “You were right. We *need* you.”
Margaret smiled. “All that matters is Emilys alright.”
That night, they sat togethermother, grandmother, fatherwatching Emily sleep. Each understood: privacy could wait. Family started here, with this tiny girl whod bound them forever.
