“I know.”
The next morning, the hospital finished its documentation and the pediatric team cleared our son to remain with us.
My mother-in-law was not allowed back onto the maternity floor.
My mother left only after asking whether she could visit again another day.
I told her I needed time.
She accepted that answer.
There was no dramatic reconciliation.
No speech fixed everything.
There was simply a woman who had made a terrible choice and a daughter who wasn’t ready to pretend it hadn’t happened.
My husband stayed beside me.
Before we left the hospital, he looked down at our son and then at me.
“I thought the hardest part of becoming a father would be the delivery,” he said.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“The delivery was easier than this.”
He gave a tired laugh.
Then he became serious again.
“I should have protected you before anyone had to ask me to.”
