“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 sat on the edge of the bed. “Are the contractions starting?”
“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 Edward coming home from work?”
“Yes, hes on his way. Mum, just try not to worry too much. Everything will be alright.”
Margaret smiled into the phone. Lucy was always so considerate of others, even when she needed support herself.
“Alright, love. Well be there soon.”
She hung up and quickly got dressed. Her bag was already packed with oranges, biscuits, and a thermos of hot teaeverything needed for a long wait in hospital corridors.
Edward arrived half an hour later, flustered and anxious.
“Mum, hurry,” he said, helping her into the car. “Her contractions are already ten minutes apart.”
“Calm down, son,” Margaret patted his arm. “First labours arent quick. Well make it.”
But she was just as nervous as her son. Lucy was petite and slender, and the pregnancy had been difficultconstant nausea, swelling, fluctuating blood pressure. The doctors said everything was normal, but a mothers heart never rests.
At the hospital, they were met by a stern nurse in her fifties.
“Whos in labour?” she asked without looking up from her clipboard.
“She is,” Edward said, guiding Lucy forward.
“Documents, medical records,” the nurse held out her hand. “Relatives wait in the corridor, no going upstairs.”
Lucy was taken away, while Margaret and Edward stayed in the ground-floor waiting area. It was crowdedmen with flowers, women with bags, all with the same anxious expressions.
“Mum, how long do you think itll take?” Edward paced between rows of plastic chairs.
“I dont know, love. Its different for everyone. With you, it took eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen hours?” He paled.
“Its fine. Look how strong you turned out,” Margaret tried to reassure him.
An hour passed, then another. Edward called the nurses station every thirty minutes, but there was no newsjust the same response: “Everythings progressing normally, keep waiting.”
“Maybe you should go home for a bit?” Margaret suggested. “Change, eat something. Ill stay here.”
“No, Mum, I cant. What if something happens?”
“What could happen? Lucys strong, shell manage.”
But Edward refused. 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 Baker?” she called out.
Margaret and Edward jumped up.
“Yes, us! How is she? Has she given birth?”
“Not yet. Slow dilation, weak contractions. Well induce.”
“Is that dangerous?” Margaret worried.
“Standard procedure,” the midwife dismissed. “Many women deliver this way.”
She left, leaving them with fresh concerns.
“Mum, what if she needs a C-section?” Edward resumed pacing.
“If she does, then she does. The important thing is that both mother and baby are healthy.”
That night, Margaret dozed off in a chair, wrapped in her coat. Edward didnt sleep, just smoked and called the nurses station.
At dawn, the midwife returned.
“Well, Grandma and Grandad, congratulations!” she smiled. “Youve got a little girlthree kilos two hundred grams.”
“And Lucy?” they asked in unison.
“Shes fine. Tired, of course, but she did brilliantly. Well stitch her up and move her to a ward.”
Edward hugged his mother, and they both cried from joy and exhaustion.
“Grandad,” Margaret repeated, wiping tears. “Can you believe it, Edward? Youre a dad now!”
“And youre a grandma,” he grinned. “Our little girl is here!”
They were only allowed up to the postnatal ward by midday. Lucy lay pale but happy, cradling a tiny bundle.
“Look how beautiful she is,” she whispered, showing them the baby.
Margaret leaned in, gazing at the pink, wrinkled little face.
“Oh, my precious,” she murmured. “She looks just like her daddy.”
“Mum, really?” Lucy laughed. “Shes only a few hours old.”
“But I can see it. His eyes, his nose. Right, Edward?”
Her son stood mesmerised, too nervous to touch the baby.
“Hold her,” Lucy offered.
“Wont I break her? Shes so small.”
“You wont,” Lucy chuckled. “Youre her dad now.”
Edward carefully took his daughter. The baby yawned and fell back asleep.
“What shall we name her?” he asked.
“We agreedEmily,” Lucy said.
“Emily,” Margaret repeated. “Lovely name.”
They stayed in the ward until evening, taking turns holding the baby, taking photos, making plans. Margaret was already picturing buying a pram and a crib, imagining walks in the park with her granddaughter.
“Lucy, maybe I could stay with you for a while?” she suggested. “Help with the baby. Ive got experience.”
Her daughter-in-law smiled.
“Of course, Mum. Id feel better with you there.”
“Good. Ill start preparing the nursery tomorrow. Edward, we need to repaintthe wallpapers too bright for a baby.”
“Mum, maybe not yet?” Edward said cautiously. “Lucys not even home. Its too soon to plan.”
“Too soon? Shell be discharged in a week, and the nursery wont be ready. No, we need to hurry.”
A nurse entered.
“Visiting hours are over,” she announced.
Margaret kissed Lucys forehead.
“Rest, love. Well come again tomorrow.”
At home, she couldnt sleep, overwhelmed with emotion. A granddaughter! She had a granddaughter! Little Emily, whom shed love more than life itself.
The next morning, Margaret went to a baby shop. She bought onesies, booties, blankets, toys. She spent nearly her entire pension but didnt regret it. Nothing was too good for her granddaughter.
Edward shook his head when he saw the bags.
“Mum, why so much? Lucys parents will buy things too.”
“Let them. Shell need it all. Speaking of, where are they? Why havent they visited?”
“Theyre away, remember? Three-week spa retreat.”
“Oh, right. Well, shell have plenty of love from us.”
The next day, Lucy looked upset when they arrived.
“Whats wrong?” Margaret asked immediately.
“The doctor said Emily has jaundice. Not severe, but they wont discharge her yet.”
“Is it dangerous?” Edward paled.
“No, common in newborns. But shell need to stay another five days.”
“Its fine,” Margaret reassured. “Shell recover. The main thing is weve got good doctors.”
Emily lay under a special lamp, tiny and fragile. Margaret couldnt stop admiring her.
“Lucy, are you breastfeeding?”
“Trying, but milks still low. Were supplementing with formula.”
“Thats normal, itll come. Dont stressthat affects supply.”
“I know, Mum. Trying not to worry.”
Three other mothers shared the ward. One, Sarah, had been there since admission and had become Lucys friend.
“Is that your mother-in-law?” she asked when Margaret stepped away.
“Yes. Shes wonderful, so helpful.”
“Youre lucky,” Sarah sighed. “Mine just criticises. Says I hold the baby wrong, fold nappies wrong.”
“My mum understands. Shes been through it.”
Margaret overheard and felt warmth in her chest. So her efforts werent in vainher daughter-in-law appreciated her.
For days, Margaret visited from morning till night, bringing home-cooked meals, fruit, magazines. She sat with Emily so Lucy could rest. Edward came when he could, but work kept him busy.
“Mum, arent you tired?” Lucy asked. “Coming every day must be exhausting.”
“Dont be silly! Nothings too much for my girls.”
On the fifth day, the doctor said the jaundice had passed, and theyd be discharged tomorrow. Margaret was overjoyed.
“Lucy, Ive got everything ready at home. Cribs assembled, beddings washed. Even bought a baby bath.”
“Thank you so much, Mum. I dont know what wed do without you.”
On discharge day, Edward took time off work. They collected Lucy and Emily, settled them in the car, and drove home.
Margaret buzzed around like a beewarming bottles, changing nappies, rocking Emily when she cried.
“Mum, why dont you rest?” Lucy offered. “I can manage.”
“Nonsense! You need to recover. Doctors ordersmore rest.”
Lucy obediently lay down while Margaret cradled Emily.
“My precious,” she whispered, swaying gently. “So good for Grandma.”
Edward watched, smiling.
“Mum, youve come alive since Emily arrived.”
“Of course! Shes my granddaughter, my flesh and blood.”
The first days passed in a blur of chores. Margaret woke for night feeds so Lucy could sleep. She cooked, cleaned, launderedfeeling needed and happy.
But gradually, Lucy grew quieter, more withdrawn.
“Lucy, are you feeling alright?” Margaret asked one morning.
“Yes, Mum, just tired.”
“But youre hardly doing anything! Im handling it all.”
“Thats why Im tired,” Lucy said softly.
Margaret didnt understand. How could resting be exhausting?
Tensions rose when Lucy wanted to bathe Emily, but Margaret intervened.
“Why strain over the tub? Youll hurt your back. Ill do it.”
“But shes my baby,” Lucy protested.
“Of course she is. But Ive got experience.”
Lucy fell silent, but hurt flashed in her eyes.
Things came to a head when Emily cried at night. Margaret, as usual, was first to rise.
“Whats wrong, sweetheart? Hungry?”
But Lucy appeared, bleary-eyed.
“Mum, give her to me. She needs to nurse.”
“Wouldnt formula be better? Your milks still low.”
“Mum, the doctor said breastfeedings important. Please.”
Reluctantly, Margaret handed Emily over. Lucy settled into the nursing chair while Margaret hovered.
“Lucy, youre holding her wrong. Support her head higher.”
“Mum, the midwife showed me how.”
“But she looks uncomfortable. Let me adjust”
“No, Mum. Please.”
Tears edged Lucys voice. Finally, Margaret noticed.
“Lucy, why are you crying?”
“Mum, Im exhausted. I want to care for my baby. But youre doing everything.”
“But Im helping! Isnt that good?”
“Help is good. But when I cant even touch my own childthats not help.”
Margaret was bewildered. She truly didnt see the problem.
Edward stumbled in, rubbing his eyes.
“Whats going on? Why the whispering?”
“Talk to your mother,” Lucy pleaded. “Explain.”
“About what?”
“Lucy thinks I help too much,” Margaret said stiffly.
“Mum, its not about quantity,” Edward said. “Lucys right. She needs to learn motherhood.”
“So Im in the way!” Margaret snapped. “I thought I was being kind, but apparently, Im just a nuisance.”
“Mum, dont”
“No, its clear. The mother-in-law is surplus to requirements. Sorry for intruding.”
She locked herself in her room, tears stinging. After all her efforts, this was her thanks.
Next morning, Lucy knocked.
“Mum, can we talk?”
Margaret opened the door. Lucy sat on the bed, Emily in her arms.
“Mum, I never meant to hurt you. Youve done so much, and Im grateful.”
“Grateful people dont tell me Im in the way.”
“I never said that. I just want to be involved in my daughters care.”
Margaret stayed silent.
“Lets compromise. You help with chores, and Ill handle Emily. But if I need advice, Ill ask.”
“What if you make a mistake?”
“Mum, Im not helpless. The health visitor said I can call anytime.”
Margaret looked at Emilypeaceful, healthy.
“Alright,” she relented. “Well try.”
For days, they followed the new rules. Lucy fed, bathed, and changed Emily. Margaret cooked, cleaned, shopped.
At first, it was hard not to interfere. Her hands itched to adjust blankets, correct bottle angles. But she held back, watching Lucy grow confident.
One night, Emily wouldnt stop crying after a feed.
“Maybe shes still hungry?” Margaret suggested.
“No, she just ate. Probably colic.”
Lucy rocked her, sangnothing worked. The wails grew louder.
“Let me try,” Margaret offered.
She cradled Emily, swaying rhythmically while rubbing her back. Gradually, the cries subsided.
“How do you do that?” Lucy marvelled.
“Practice, love. Edward was colicky too. I learned every trick.”
“Teach me, please.”
And so Margaret shared her wisdomhow to hold a gassy baby, which motions helped, how to massage tiny tummies.
Lucy listened, learned, improved.
“Mum, thank you,” she said one day. “Id be lost without you.”
“Youre doing brilliantly, Lucy. It just takes time to learn your baby.”
Balance was found. Lucy led Emilys care, but Margaret was always theresupporting, not supplanting.
Weeks passed. Emily grew, smiled, became more alert. Margaret revelled in grandmotherly love; Lucy blossomed as a mother.
Edward watched his women harmonise, his daughter thriving in their care.
Then Lucys parents visited, tanned from their holiday.
“Oh, what a beauty!” her mother exclaimed, reaching for Emily. “Let me hold her!”
Margaret felt a pang but stayed quiet. Two grandmothers were better than one.
They brought gifts, chatted about their trip, adored their granddaughterbut left after a few hours.
“Well visit tomorrow,” Lucys mother promised. “Grandparents must dote!”
After they left, the house settled back into cosy quiet. Margaret reflectedother grandparents visited, but this was her home now. Her family.
But the next day, overheard words shattered her peace.
“Why is Margaret still here?” Lucys mother murmured, thinking she couldnt hear.
“Shes helping, Mum,” Lucy replied.
“But its been a month. Youll manage. Young couples need space.”
Margarets heart clenched. So she was unwanted by all.
That evening, she approached Lucy.
“Love, maybe I should go home?”
Lucy looked up, surprised.
“Why? You heard Mumshe doesnt speak for us.”
“But perhaps Edward wants privacy?”
When Edward returned, Lucy raised the issue.
“Your mum asked if she should leave. What do you think?”
He chewed thoughtfully.
“Dunno. Mum, what do you want?”
“If Im needed, Ill stay. If Im in the way, Ill go.”
“Youre not in the way,” Lucy said quickly. “But my parents think”
“What do they think?” Edward frowned.
“That young families need space.”
“I see,” he nodded. “And what do you think?”
“We need help. Especially me. Im still learning.”
“Then Mum stays,” Edward decided. “At least until youre confident.”
Margaret exhaled. Not banished yet.
But Lucys parents kept pressing. Each visit brought fresh hints that the mother-in-law should leave.
“Lucys stronger now,” her mother said. “Shell cope. Or shell never learn.”
Lucy defended her, but Margaret saw doubt creeping in.
Then one night, Emilys cries turned frantic. Feverish, listless, she wouldnt settle.
“Call an ambulance!” Lucy panicked.
“Wait,” Margaret soothed, examining Emilys gums. “Could be teething. Early, but possible.”
She found swellinga tiny tooth breaking through.
“Like Edward at three months. Still, lets call the doctor for reassurance.”
The paediatrician confirmed itteething, no danger. He left instructions and departed.
Lucy sagged with relief, looking at Margaret anewnot as an intruder, but as a lifeline.
“Mum, forgive me,” she whispered. “You were right. Without you, wed have panicked.”
Margaret smiled, squeezing her shoulder.
“Love, all that matters is Emilys alright. The rest is noise.”
That night, they kept vigil togethernew mother, wise grandmother, devoted father. And each knew: space could wait. Family began here, bound forever by a little girls love.
