I had stopped checking the clock.
Every time I looked at it, the numbers seemed to mock me.
Minutes passed.
Then more minutes.
Nobody could tell me how long the treatment would take.
I sat with my hands folded in my lap and tried not to imagine what was happening behind the doors.
Daniel remained beside me.
He hadn't spoken much since our conversation.
Across the hallway, Patricia sat alone.
She kept looking at her phone.
Once, I saw her type something, delete it, and begin again.
I wondered who she was contacting.
I wondered whether she was asking for advice or trying to find someone who would tell her she had done nothing wrong.
Then I stopped wondering.
I couldn't spend what little strength I had left trying to understand Patricia.
I needed to be there for Lily.
A nurse approached and asked whether I wanted some water.
This time, I accepted.
The paper cup felt flimsy in my hands.
I took a small sip.
The water tasted ordinary.
I almost cried because of that.
It seemed impossible that anything could still taste ordinary while my daughter was fighting for her life.
The nurse stayed beside me for a moment.
She didn't offer false reassurance.
She didn't tell me everything would be fine.
She simply said the doctors were continuing their work and that someone would speak with me as soon as they had an update.
I thanked her.
When she left, Daniel reached for the cup.
"Let me hold that."
I gave it to him.
He set it on the small table beside us.
Neither of us drank again.
I began thinking about the drive to the hospital.
I remembered every red light.
Every time I had looked toward Lily.
Every desperate request for her to make a sound.
I wondered whether I had taken the right route.
Whether I should have waited for an ambulance.
Whether I had held her correctly.
Whether there was something I could have noticed sooner.
The questions came one after another.
I knew they wouldn't help.
I also couldn't stop them.
Daniel seemed to notice my breathing change.
"Emily?"
I looked at him.
"What's wrong?"
"I keep thinking about the fall."
He didn't interrupt.
"I keep seeing her on the floor."
My voice broke.
"I should have caught her."
Daniel moved closer.
"You were hit."
"I was still holding her."
"You didn't choose for that to happen."
I looked at him.
For once, he wasn't trying to explain away his mother's behavior.
He was trying to help me understand that the fall had not been a deliberate act.
I knew that.
But guilt did not disappear simply because another person explained the facts.
"I was her mother," I whispered.
"You are her mother."
He said it firmly.
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to believe that being Lily's mother meant I could still protect her.
But I had already learned that love did not give me control over every danger.
All I could do now was wait.
A little later, Dr. Blake returned.
Daniel and I stood at the same time.
I nearly knocked the paper cup off the table.
The doctor asked us to follow him into the consultation room.
Patricia rose from her chair.
"Can I come too?"
Dr. Blake explained that he needed to speak with Lily's parents first and that he would address further questions as appropriate.
Patricia looked offended.
Daniel followed me into the room.
I sat down and clasped my hands together.
Dr. Blake explained that Lily had sustained a serious head injury and that the medical team had been working to address the immediate threat to her life.
He described the resuscitation efforts in careful, direct language.
I listened without looking away.
Then he paused.
I knew that pause.
It was the same one I had seen before he told me about the cardiac arrest.
"Please," I said. "Just tell me what you know."
He explained that Lily's condition remained critical.
The team was assessing the extent of her injuries and watching for complications.
He told us what they had been able to establish and what remained uncertain.
I asked whether she had responded to treatment.
He answered as clearly as he could.
There had been some progress in the immediate efforts, but he could not promise recovery.
I held on to the word progress.
It was not the answer I wanted.
It was not a guarantee.
But it was something I could carry back into the hallway.
"Can I see her?" I asked.
Dr. Blake said they were working to make that possible when it was medically appropriate.
I nodded.
I wanted to ask twenty more questions.
Instead, I asked the one that frightened me most.
"Does she know I'm here?"
The doctor was quiet for a moment.
He explained that he couldn't tell me what Lily was experiencing or whether she was aware of her surroundings.
"But you can keep speaking to her when the team allows you to visit," he said.
I thanked him.
When we left the consultation room, Patricia was waiting.
She immediately looked at Daniel.
"What did he say?"
Daniel told her that Lily remained critically ill.
Patricia pressed a hand to her chest.
"Oh, my God."
For the first time that night, she looked as though she understood that there might be consequences beyond the argument in our hallway.
She turned to me.
"Emily, I never wanted this."
I looked at her.
I believed she hadn't wanted Lily to be injured.
But that did not mean she hadn't chosen to strike me.
Intent and responsibility were not the same thing.
"I didn't want it either," I said.
She began crying.
I had seen Patricia cry before.
Usually, it happened when she felt excluded or believed Daniel had disappointed her.
This time, I couldn't tell what the tears meant.
Maybe she was frightened for Lily.
Maybe she was frightened for herself.
Maybe both were true.
I didn't have to decide.
She moved closer.
"Please don't tell everyone I did this on purpose."
I stared at her.
"I told the police what happened."
"People will think I tried to hurt my own granddaughter."
I could barely believe she was asking me to manage what other people might think while my daughter was still in critical condition.
"I'm not going to tell people what to think," I said. "I'm going to tell them the truth."
Patricia wiped her face.
"You could destroy my life."
I looked toward the emergency doors.
"My daughter could die."
She went silent.
I regretted nothing about those words.
They were harsh.
They were also true.
Daniel stood beside me.
For a moment, I expected him to ask me to soften what I had said.
He didn't.
Patricia returned to her chair.
I sat down beside Daniel again.
The hallway seemed quieter than before.
I was beginning to understand that the truth could be spoken clearly and still leave everything uncertain.
The police would investigate.
The doctors would continue treating Lily.
Daniel would have to decide what kind of husband he intended to be.
Patricia would have to answer for her actions.
None of those things guaranteed the outcome I wanted most.
I looked at my hands.
Then I whispered Lily's name.
Not because I believed she could hear me through the doors.
Because I needed to remember that she was more than the emergency we were waiting through.
She was my daughter.
She was three weeks old.
She had been crying because she needed something, and I had been trying to discover what that was.
I wanted another chance to learn her cries.
I wanted another night of interrupted sleep.
I wanted the small, ordinary problems I had once believed were too much.
I wanted to go home with her.
And I wanted never to see that hallway again.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: When the Police Finished Their First Questions, Daniel Had to Choose Where to Stand, and I Finally Asked for Something I Should Never Have Needed to Ask For
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 7 of 20
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