I had imagined emergencies before.
Every new mother probably does.
I had imagined Lily developing a fever in the middle of the night, choking during a feeding, or crying in a way that made me realize something was wrong.
I had imagined calling Daniel for help.
I had imagined him standing beside me while we figured out what to do.
I had never imagined kneeling on our hallway floor with my unconscious daughter in my arms while my husband tried to understand his mother's explanation.
"Daniel, call 911!"
I said it again because he was still standing there.
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
His hands were shaking.
For a second, I thought he was finally going to do what I had asked.
Then Patricia stepped closer.
"Don't panic," she said. "We need to think about what happened."
I stared at her.
"What happened is that you hit me."
She looked toward Daniel.
"Listen to her. She's not thinking straight."
I had never hated a sentence more.
My cheek was swelling.
My baby wasn't moving.
And Patricia was using my exhaustion to make herself sound reasonable.
Daniel held his phone against his ear.
I couldn't tell whether he had connected to emergency services.
"Tell them what happened," I said.
He looked at me.
"What?"
"Tell them she hit me."
Patricia immediately shook her head.
"Emily, stop."
I didn't look at her.
"Daniel, tell them."
He lowered the phone slightly.
His eyes moved from my face to his mother's.
That hesitation was brief.
Maybe it lasted only a second.
But I saw it.
And I understood something I had spent years refusing to understand.
When the truth made his mother look bad, Daniel needed time to decide whether it was worth telling.
I couldn't wait for him.
"Lily needs a doctor."
I tried to stand.
My legs felt weak, and I had to steady myself against the wall.
The baby remained limp in my arms.
I held her close, supporting her as carefully as I could.
I was terrified that I might hurt her again.
Patricia moved toward me.
"Give her to Daniel."
"No."
The answer came out before I had time to think.
She stopped.
"You aren't in any condition to handle this."
I looked at her.
"You made me drop her."
"I did not make you do anything."
Her voice was controlled again.
That was what frightened me most.
She spoke as though we were arguing over a misplaced dish or an unpaid bill.
She had slapped me hard enough to make me lose my balance.
Now she was standing beside the place where my newborn had fallen, acting as though the only problem was my reaction.
Daniel finally spoke into his phone.
He was giving our address.
I caught the words "baby" and "unconscious."
Then he began explaining that there had been an accident.
An accident.
The word made my stomach tighten.
"Tell them the whole thing," I said.
He covered the phone with his hand.
"Emily, please."
I looked at him.
"Please what?"
He didn't answer.
I had no strength left for an argument.
I didn't want an apology.
I didn't want him to defend me.
I wanted someone to take my daughter and help her breathe, and I wanted that person to arrive immediately.
Daniel continued speaking.
I couldn't hear every word.
Patricia stood close enough that I could smell her perfume.
It was the same perfume she wore to church and family dinners.
I remembered thinking how strange it was that the house still smelled ordinary.
The kitchen light was on.
The bottle remained on the counter.
A folded dish towel sat beside the sink.
Nothing in the house looked different.
Except Lily.
I looked at her tiny face.
Her lips were parted slightly.
Her skin seemed too still.
"Please," I whispered.
I don't know whether I was speaking to her or to God.
Maybe both.
Patricia reached toward my shoulder.
I moved away.
"Don't touch me."
She drew her hand back.
For the first time that night, she looked genuinely surprised.
I had rarely spoken to her that way.
I had always tried to be respectful, even when she wasn't respectful to me.
I had swallowed complaints because I didn't want to cause trouble.
I had apologized when I wasn't sure what I had done wrong.
I had let her criticize the way I fed my child, the way I cleaned my kitchen, and the way I arranged Lily's things.
I had told myself those were small matters.
This was not a small matter.
Daniel ended the call.
"Where's your car key?" he asked.
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"We need to get her to the hospital."
"Then help me."
He stepped forward, but Patricia spoke again.
"Wait. The ambulance is coming."
I looked toward the front door.
"How long?"
"I don't know," Daniel said.
I couldn't stand there waiting.
I didn't know whether moving Lily was the right decision.
I didn't know what the fall had done to her.
I only knew that she needed medical attention and that every second felt unbearable.
I remembered the hospital.
Riverside Methodist.
It was less than ten minutes away by car under normal conditions.
I had driven there before.
I knew the route.
The thought came to me with such force that I moved before anyone could stop me.
I gathered Lily securely against me and headed toward the front door.
"Emily!" Daniel called.
I didn't turn around.
Patricia followed us into the entryway.
"You're not leaving with her like that."
I stopped with my hand on the door handle.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
"What did you say?"
"You are upset. You could make things worse."
I stared at her.
My daughter was unconscious.
My face hurt.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
And Patricia was still trying to control what I did.
I opened the door.
Cold night air touched my face.
"Get out of my way."
She stepped aside, but not before saying something I would remember for a long time.
"Don't turn this into something it isn't."
I carried Lily to the car.
I had never been so afraid of dropping anything in my life.
Every movement felt dangerous.
I opened the back door, then stopped.
I looked at the car seat.
I looked at my daughter.
I couldn't make myself put her down and walk away from her, even for the few seconds it would take to arrange everything.
My thoughts were breaking apart.
I knew I needed help.
I knew I needed to get to the hospital.
I also knew I couldn't pretend I understood how serious her condition was.
I returned to the driver's seat with Lily held securely against me while I called 911 again.
The dispatcher answered.
I told her my newborn had fallen and was unconscious.
I gave her our location and explained that we were leaving for Riverside Methodist Hospital.
She tried to keep me calm and focused.
I listened because I needed someone to tell me what to do next.
I placed the phone on speaker.
My fingers struggled with the steering wheel.
I started the engine.
The headlights lit the driveway.
For one brief second, I saw Daniel standing in the doorway.
Patricia was behind him.
Neither of them came toward the car.
I wanted Daniel to follow me.
I wanted him to get into the passenger seat and hold Lily while I drove.
I wanted him to say that he believed me.
Instead, he remained beside his mother.
I put the car into gear.
The house disappeared behind me.
I had never driven away from home feeling so completely alone.
The road was almost empty.
Streetlights passed over the windshield in regular intervals.
I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but every few seconds I looked toward Lily.
She didn't move.
"Please wake up," I whispered.
I said it again at the next intersection.
And again when I reached the main road.
I was afraid to touch her more than necessary.
I was afraid not to touch her.
Every choice seemed capable of making things worse.
The dispatcher kept speaking through the phone.
I answered as clearly as I could, though my voice sounded unfamiliar to me.
At one red light, I looked down at Lily and realized I had been holding my breath.
I forced myself to breathe.
Then the light changed.
I drove on.
The hospital was only a short distance away.
I knew that, but the road seemed endless.
When I finally saw the hospital signs, I began crying.
Not quietly.
I couldn't hold it back anymore.
I pulled into the emergency department entrance and called out for help as soon as I stopped.
People came toward me.
A staff member reached for Lily.
I held her for one final second.
Then I let them take her.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Emergency Room Took My Daughter Behind Closed Doors, and Twenty Minutes Later a Doctor Told Me Words I Could Not Understand
I Thought the Worst Part of Being a New Mother Was Losing Sleep, Until My Mother-in-Law Made One Cruel Decision for Me
Part 2 of 20
