“Take your mother and leave,” demanded the daughter-in-law in the maternity ward.
“Hello, my dear, how are you?” Edith pressed the phone to her ear and perched on the edge of the bed. “Has it started?”
“Mum, everythings fine for now,” her daughter-in-laws voice sounded weary. “The doctor says its still early. But we should go to the hospital, just in case.”
“Of course, of course! Ive already packed my bag. Is William coming home from work?”
“Yes, hes on his way. Mum, just try not to worry too much. Everything will be alright.”
Edith smiled into the receiver. Charlotte had always been the one to care for others, even when she needed support herself.
“Alright, darling. Well be there soon.”
She hung up and dressed quickly. Her bag already held oranges, biscuits, and a flask of teaeverything one might need during a long wait in hospital corridors.
William arrived half an hour later, flustered and breathless.
“Mum, hurry,” he said, helping her into the car. “Her contractions are already ten minutes apart.”
“Calm down, son,” Edith patted his arm. “First labours are never quick. Well make it.”
But she was just as anxious as he was. Charlotte was petite, and the pregnancy had been difficultconstant nausea, swelling, fluctuating blood pressure. The doctors said it was all within reason, but a mothers heart never rests.
At the hospital, a stern nurse in her fifties greeted them without looking up from her ledger.
“Which of you is in labour?”
“This is her,” William guided Charlotte forward.
“Documents and medical card,” the nurse held out her hand. “Relatives wait in the corridor. No going upstairs.”
Charlotte was led away, leaving Edith and William in the crowded waiting areamen clutching bouquets, women with bags, all wearing the same worried expression.
“Mum, how long do you think itll take?” William paced between rows of plastic chairs.
“I dont know, love. Every womans different. When you were born, it took me eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen hours?” He paled.
“Nothing to fear. You came out a strapping lad.” Edith tried to reassure him.
An hour passed, then another. William called the nurses station every half-hour, but the answer was always the same: “Progressing normally. Keep waiting.”
“Perhaps you should go home?” Edith suggested. “Change, eat something. Ill stay here.”
“No, Mum. What if something happens?”
“What could happen? Charlottes strong. Shell manage.”
But her son wouldnt budge. He sat, jiggling his leg, 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.
Edith and William leapt to their feet.
“Yes! How is she? Has she had the baby?”
“Not yet. Slow dilation, weak contractions. Well induce.”
“Is that dangerous?” Edith fretted.
“Standard procedure,” the midwife waved her off. “Many mothers deliver this way.”
She left them with fresh anxieties.
“Mum, what if she needs a Caesarean?” William resumed pacing.
“If she does, theyll do it. What matters is that both mother and child are healthy.”
That night, Edith dozed in a chair, wrapped in her coat. William didnt sleep, alternating between smoking and checking in with the nurses.
By dawn, when light crept through the windows, the midwife returned.
“Well, Granddad and Grandma, congratulations!” She beamed. “A little girl, three and a half kilos.”
“And Charlotte?” they asked in unison.
“Doing well. Tired, of course, but she was marvellous. Well stitch her up and move her to a room.”
William hugged his mother, and they both weptrelief and exhaustion mingling.
“Granddad,” Edith repeated, wiping her eyes. “Imagine that, Williamyoure a father!”
“And youre a grandmother!” He grinned. “Our little girl is here!”
They werent allowed upstairs until noon. Charlotte lay pale but radiant, a tiny bundle in her arms.
“Look at her,” she whispered. “Isnt she beautiful?”
Edith leaned in, gazing at the pink, wrinkled face.
“Oh, my precious,” she murmured. “She has her fathers look.”
“Mum, shes only hours old!” Charlotte laughed.
“But I can see it. His eyes, his noseisnt that right, William?”
Her son stood transfixed, afraid to touch the baby.
“Take her,” Charlotte offered.
“Wont I break her? Shes so small.”
“You wont,” Charlotte chuckled. “Youre her father now.”
William cradled his daughter. She yawned and drifted back to sleep.
“What shall we call her?” he asked.
“We agreedEmily,” Charlotte said.
“Emily,” Edith echoed. “Lovely name.”
They stayed until evening, taking turns holding the baby, taking photos, making plans. Edith was already picturing prams and cribs, imagining walks in the park with her granddaughter.
“Charlotte, perhaps I should stay with you for a while?” she offered. “Help with the baby. Ive experience.”
Her daughter-in-law smiled.
“Of course, Mum. Id feel better with you here.”
“Wonderful. Tomorrow, Ill start on the nursery. William, the wallpapers too brightwe should change it.”
“Mum, maybe not yet?” William said carefully. “Charlottes still in hospital. Its early to plan.”
“Why early? Shell be home in a week, and the nursery wont be ready. No, we must hurry.”
A nurse entered.
“Visiting hours are over.”
Edith kissed Charlottes forehead.
“Rest, darling. Well be back tomorrow.”
At home, she couldnt sleep, her heart overflowing. A granddaughter! Little Emily, whom she would love more than life itself.
The next morning, Edith went to the baby shop. She bought vests, booties, blankets, toysspending nearly her entire pension without regret. Nothing was too good for her granddaughter.
When William saw the bags, he shook his head.
“Mum, why so much? Charlottes parents will buy things too.”
“Let them. Emily will need it all. Speaking ofwhere are they? Why havent they visited?”
“Theyre away, remember? At the seaside for three weeks.”
“Oh yes, Id forgotten. Well, never mindtheres plenty of love to go around.”
The next day at the hospital, Charlotte greeted them with a frown.
“Whats wrong?” Edith asked at once.
“The doctor says Emily has jaundice. Not severe, but she cant go home yet.”
“Is it dangerous?” William paled.
“No, common in newborns. But shell need to stay another five days.”
“Dont fret,” Edith soothed. “Shell recover. The doctors here are excellent.”
Emily lay under a special lamp, tiny and vulnerable. Edith couldnt look away.
“Charlotte, are you breastfeeding?”
“Trying, but my milks slow. Were supplementing with formula.”
“Thats normalitll come. Just dont worry. Stress affects supply.”
“I know, Mum. Im trying not to.”
Three other mothers shared the room. One, Sarah, had befriended Charlotte.
“Is this your mother-in-law?” she asked when Edith stepped to the window.
“Yes. Shes wonderfulso helpful.”
“Youre lucky,” Sarah sighed. “Mine just criticises. Says I hold the baby wrong, fold nappies wrong.”
“My mother understands. Shes been through it.”
Edith overheard and warmed inside. So her efforts were appreciated.
For days, she arrived at dawn and left at dusk, bringing homemade meals, fruit, magazines. She watched Emily so Charlotte could rest. William visited when work allowed.
“Mum, arent you tired?” Charlotte asked. “Coming every day must be exhausting.”
“Dont be silly! For my girls, nothings tiring.”
On the fifth day, the doctor said the jaundice had clearedtheyd go home tomorrow. Edith was overjoyed.
“Charlotte, Ive prepared everything. The cribs ready, the beddings washed. I bought a bathtub, too.”
“Thank you, Mum. I dont know what wed do without you.”
On discharge day, William took leave. They collected mother and baby solemnly, settling them into the car.
At home, Edith bustled like a beewarming bottles, changing nappies, soothing Emily when she cried.
“Mum, perhaps you should rest?” Charlotte suggested. “I can manage.”
“Nonsense! You must recover. The doctor said rest is vital.”
Charlotte obeyed, lying down while Edith took the baby.
“My precious,” she cooed, rocking her. “So good for Grandma.”
William watched, smiling.
“Mum, youve blossomed since Emily came.”
“Of course! Shes my granddaughter, my darling.”
The first days passed in a blur. Edith woke for night feeds so Charlotte could sleep. She cooked, cleaned, launderedfeeling needed and happy.
But gradually, she noticed Charlotte growing quiet and withdrawn.
“Charlotte, are you well?” she asked one morning.
“Yes, Mum. Just tired.”
“But youre hardly doing anything! Im managing it all.”
“Thats why Im tired,” Charlotte said softly.
Edith didnt understand. How could rest be exhausting?
Days later, tension grew. Charlotte wanted to bathe Emily, but Edith intervened.
“Why strain over the tub? Ill do it.”
“But shes my child.”
“Of course she is. But Ive more experience.”
Charlotte fell silent, but hurt flickered in her eyes.
Things came to a head when Emily woke crying at night. Edith, as usual, rose first, lifting the baby.
“Whats wrong, sweetheart? Hungry?”
But Charlotte appeared, bleary-eyed.
“Mum, let me. She needs breastfeeding.”
“Wouldnt formula be better? Your milks still scant.”
“Mum, the doctor said breastfeeding matters. Please.”
Reluctantly, Edith handed Emily over. Charlotte settled in the nursing chair, while Edith hovered.
“Youre holding her wrong. Support her head higher.”
“Mum, the midwife showed me how.”
“But shes uncomfortable. Let me adjust”
“No, Mum. Please.”
Tears edged Charlottes voice. Finally, Edith noticed.
“Charlotte, why are you crying?”
“Mum, Im exhausted. I want to care for my daughter. But you wont let me.”
“But Im helping! Isnt that good?”
“Help is welcome. But when I cant even touch my own childthats not help.”
Edith was bewildered. She only wanted to spare Charlotte.
William awoke, confused.
“Whats going on?”
“Talk to your mother,” Charlotte pleaded. “Explain.”
“Mum thinks we want her gone,” Edith said stiffly.
“No! I said I want to care for Emily myself.”
William frowned.
“Mum, its not about less help. Charlotte needs to learn motherhood.”
“So Im in the way!” Ediths voice cracked. “I thought I was doing good, but Im just a nuisance.”
“Mum, dont”
“No, its clear. A mother-in-law overstays her welcome.”
She locked herself in her room, weeping. All her efforts, unappreciated.
The next morning, Charlotte knocked.
“Mum, may I come in?”
Edith nodded stiffly.
Charlotte sat, Emily asleep in her arms.
“Mum, I never meant to hurt you. Youve done so much, and Im grateful.”
“Grateful people dont say Im in the way.”
“I didnt say that. I said I want to care for my baby.”
Edith stayed silent.
“Lets compromise,” Charlotte offered. “You handle the house; Ill care for Emily. But if I need help, Ill ask.”
“What if you make mistakes?”
“Mum, Im not helpless. The doctor said I can call with questions.”
Edith looked at Emilypeaceful, healthy.
“Alright,” she conceded. “Well try.”
For days, they adjusted. Charlotte fed, bathed, and changed Emily. Edith cooked and cleaned.
At first, it was hard not to interfereEdiths hands itched to tuck blankets, adjust bottles. But she held back, watching Charlotte gain confidence.
One evening, Emily wouldnt stop crying after a feed.
“Maybe shes still hungry?” Edith ventured.
“No, she just ate. Probably colic.”
Charlotte rocked her, sangnothing worked. The cries grew louder.
“Let me try,” Edith offered.
“Please, Mum. Im at my wits end.”
Edith took Emily, holding her close, rocking gently while rubbing her back. Gradually, the baby calmed.
“How do you do that?” Charlotte marvelled.
“Experience, dear. William cried often. I learned every trick.”
“Teach me, please.”
And Edith didshowing how to ease colic, demonstrating soothing strokes, teaching tummy massages.
Charlotte listened, practiced, improved.
“Mum, thank you,” she said once. “Id be lost without you.”
“Youre doing splendidly, dear. Motherhood takes time.”
They found balance. Charlotte led Emilys care, but Edith was thereguiding, supporting.
Weeks passed. Emily grew, smiled. Edith adored her; Charlotte grew into motherhood.
William watched, content. His family had found harmony.
One morning, as Emily turned a month old, Charlottes parents arrivedtanned from holiday.
“Oh, what a beauty!” Charlottes mother exclaimed. “Let me hold her!”
Edith felt a pang but stayed quiet. A child could have two grandmothers.
They brought gifts, chatted about their trip, admired Emilybut left after a few hours.
“Well visit tomorrow,” Charlottes mother promised. “Must see our granddaughter!”
After they left, the house settled. Edith reflectedother grandmothers visited, but this was her home now.
But the peace was short-lived. The next day, Charlottes mother murmured, “Why is Edith still here?”
“She helps us, Mum,” Charlotte said.
“But its been a month. Surely you can manage? A young family needs privacy.”
Edith heard, her heart aching. So she was unwanted by all.
That evening, she approached Charlotte.
“Darling, perhaps it is time I went home?”
Charlotte looked up, startled.
“Why, Mum? You heard what my mother said?”
“I did. And perhaps shes right. You need space.”
“Mum, I feel safer with you here. I can always ask your advice.”
“But what does William think? Maybe he wants just his family?”
“I dont know, Mum. Lets ask him.”
William returned tired and hungry. Over dinner, Charlotte raised it.
“William, your mother wonders if she should go home. What do you think?”
He chewed thoughtfully.
“I dont know. Mum, what do you want?”
“Ill stay if needed. But if Im in the way”
“Youre not,” Charlotte cut in. “Its just my parents think”
“What do they think?” William frowned.
“That young couples need privacy.”
“I see,” he nodded. “And what do you think?”
“We need help. Especially meIm still learning.”
“Then Mum stays,” William decided. “At least until youre confident.”
Edith exhaled. She wasnt being cast out yet.
But Charlottes parents kept pressing. Each visit brought hints that Edith should return to her flat.
“Charlottes stronger now,” her mother said. “Shell manage. Or shell never learn.”
Charlotte defended her, but Edith saw doubt creeping in.
One night, Emily cried uncontrollablyfeverish, listless.
“Call an ambulance!” Charlotte panicked.
“Wait,” Edith lifted the baby. “Could it be teething? Early, but possible.”
She checked Emilys gumsswollen.
“Teeth. Early, like Williams. But lets call the doctor, just in case.”
The paediatrician confirmed itteething, nothing to fear. He left instructions and departed.
Charlotte sagged with relief, looking at Edith differentlynot as a meddler, but a pillar.
“Mum, forgive me,” she whispered. “You were right. Wed have been lost without you.”
Edith smiled, squeezing her shoulder.
“Darling, all that matters is Emilys well. The rest is nothing.”
That night, they sat together by the cribthe new mother, the steadfast grandmother, the weary but happy father. Each understood: privacy could wait. Family began here, with a little girl who had bound them forever.
