**Diary Entry 16th May**
“Take your mother and leave,” my daughter-in-law demanded in the maternity ward.
“Hello, Lydia, 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,” Lydias voice sounded weary. “The doctor said its still early. But we should go to the hospital, just in case.”
“Of course, of course! Ive already packed the bag. Is Edward coming home from work?”
“Yes, hes on his way. Mum, just dont worry too much. Everything will be fine.”
Margaret smiled into the phone. Lydia always worried about others, even when she needed support herself.
“Alright, love. Well be there soon.”
She hung up and hurried to get dressed. The bag was already stuffed with oranges, biscuits, and a flask of hot teaeverything needed for the long hours in hospital corridors.
Edward arrived half an hour later, flustered and restless.
“Mum, hurry,” he said, helping her into the car. “Her contractions are every ten minutes now.”
“Calm down, son,” Margaret patted his hand. “First labours arent quick. Well make it.”
But she was just as anxious as he was. Lydia was petite, and the pregnancy had been hard on herconstant nausea, swelling, fluctuating blood pressure. The doctors said it was normal, but a mothers heart never rests.
At the hospital, a stern nurse in her fifties greeted them without looking up from her clipboard.
“Whos in labour?”
“Here she is,” Edward guided Lydia forward.
“Documents, medical notes,” the nurse held out her hand. “Relatives wait in the corridor. No going upstairs.”
Lydia was taken away, and Margaret and Edward were left in the crowded waiting areamen with flowers, women with bags, all wearing the same tense expressions.
“Mum, how long do you think itll take?” Edward paced between rows of plastic chairs.
“I dont know, love. Its different for everyone. When you were born, it took eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen hours?” He paled.
“Nothing to worry about. Look how strong you turned out,” Margaret said, trying to reassure him.
Hours passed. Edward called the nurses station every thirty minutes, but there was no newsjust the same: “Labours progressing, keep waiting.”
“Should you go home?” Margaret suggested. “Change, eat something. Ill stay.”
“No, Mum. What if something happens?”
“Like what? Lydias strong. Shell manage.”
But he refused, fidgeting, stepping outside to smoke every half-hour, returning with cheeks red from the cold.
By evening, a midwife appeared.
“Relatives of Harper?” she called into the corridor.
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 asked.
“Standard procedure,” the midwife waved her off. “Many women deliver this way.”
She left them with fresh worries.
“Mum, what if she needs a C-section?” Edward resumed pacing.
“If she does, theyll do it. The important thing is that both mother and baby are safe.”
That night, Margaret dozed in a chair, wrapped in her coat. Edward didnt sleep, chain-smoking and calling the nurses.
By dawn, the midwife returned.
“Well, Grandma and Grandpa, congratulations! A little girl, 7 pounds 2 ounces.”
“And Lydia?” they asked in unison.
“Shes fine. Tired, but she did brilliantly. Well stitch her up and move her to recovery.”
Edward hugged his mother, and they both criedrelief, exhaustion, joy.
“Grandma,” Margaret whispered, wiping tears. “Imagine, Edward, youre a father!”
“And youre a grandmother,” he grinned. “Our little girls here!”
They were only allowed into the maternity ward by midday. Lydia lay pale but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle.
“Look at her,” she murmured, showing off her daughter.
Margaret leaned in, gazing at the pink, wrinkled face.
“Oh, my darling,” she whispered. “She looks just like you, Edward.”
“Mum, really?” Lydia laughed. “Shes only hours old!”
“But I can see it. Your eyes, your nose. Right, Edward?”
Her son stood transfixed, afraid to touch the baby.
“Hold her,” Lydia offered.
“Wont I break her? Shes so small.”
“You wont. Youre her dad now.”
Edward carefully took his daughter. She yawned and dozed off again.
“What shall we name her?”
“We agreedEmily,” Lydia said.
“Emily,” Margaret repeated. “Beautiful name.”
They stayed in the ward until evening, taking turns holding the baby, making plans. Margaret was already imagining prams and nursery decor.
“Lydia, maybe I should stay with you at first? Help with Emily. Ive done this before.”
Lydia smiled. “Of course, Mum. Id feel better with you here.”
“Good. Ill start on the nursery tomorrow. Edward, the wallpapers too brightwe should change it.”
“Mum, maybe not yet?” he said carefully. “Lydias not even home. Its early.”
“Early? Shell be discharged in a week, and the nursery wont be ready. No, we must hurry.”
A nurse entered. “Visiting hours are over.”
Margaret kissed Lydias forehead. “Rest, love. Well come tomorrow.”
At home, she couldnt sleep, overwhelmed. A granddaughter! Little Emily, whom shed love more than life itself.
The next morning, Margaret raided the baby shoponesies, blankets, toys. She spent most of her pension but didnt care. Nothing was too good for Emily.
Edward shook his head when he saw the bags.
“Mum, why so much? Lydias parents will bring gifts too.”
“Let them. Emily will use everything. Speaking ofwhere are they? Why havent they visited?”
“Theyre on holiday, remember? Three weeks in the Lake District.”
“Oh, right. Well, theres enough love to go around.”
The next day, Lydia seemed downcast.
“Whats wrong?” Margaret asked.
“The doctor said Emily has jaundice. Mild, but she cant go home yet.”
“Is it serious?” Edward paled.
“No, common in newborns. But shell need five more days under the lamp.”
“Its alright,” Margaret soothed. “Shell recover. Weve got good doctors.”
Emily lay under blue light, tiny and fragile. Margaret couldnt stop staring.
“Lydia, are you breastfeeding?”
“Trying, but milks still low. Were topping up with formula.”
“Thats normal. Dont stressit affects supply.”
“I know, Mum. Trying not to worry.”
Three other mothers shared the ward. One, Sarah, had become Lydias friend.
“Is that your mother-in-law?” she whispered when Margaret stepped away.
“Yes. Shes wonderfulso helpful.”
“Youre lucky. Mine just criticises. Says I hold the baby wrong, fold nappies badly.”
Margaret overheard and warmed inside. So Lydia did appreciate her.
For days, Margaret arrived early and left latebringing home-cooked meals, sitting with Emily while Lydia rested. Edward visited when work allowed.
“Mum, arent you tired? Its a long journey every day.”
“Nonsense! Nothings too much for my girls.”
On the fifth day, the doctor discharged them. Margaret was overjoyed.
“Lydia, Ive prepared everythingcrib, sterilised bottles, baby bath.”
“Thank you, Mum. I dont know what wed do without you.”
On discharge day, Edward took leave. They bundled Lydia and Emily into the car and drove home.
Margaret buzzed aboutwarming bottles, changing nappies, rocking Emily when she cried.
“Mum, why dont you rest?” Lydia said. “I can manage.”
“Dont be silly! Youre still recovering. Doctor said rest.”
Lydia obeyed, while Margaret cradled Emily.
“My precious,” she crooned. “So good for Grandma.”
Edward watched, smiling.
“Mum, youve come alive since Emily arrived.”
“Of course! Shes my grandchild, my flesh and blood.”
The first days passed in a blur. Margaret woke for night feeds so Lydia could sleep. Cooked, cleaned, shopped. She felt needed, happy.
But Lydia grew quieter, withdrawn.
“Are you alright?” Margaret asked one morning.
“Yes, Mum. Just tired.”
“But youre barely doing anything! I handle everything.”
“Thats why Im tired,” Lydia said softly.
Margaret didnt understand.
Soon, tension rose. Lydia wanted to bathe Emily herself, but Margaret insisted.
“Why strain over the tub? Ill do it.”
“But shes my baby.”
“And Ive done this before. Trust me.”
Lydia fell silent, but hurt flickered in her eyes.
Things came to a head when Emily cried at night. Margaret got there first.
“Whats wrong, sweetheart? Hungry?”
Lydia appeared. “Mum, give her to me. She needs breastfeeding.”
“Wouldnt formula be better? Your supplys still low.”
“Mum, the doctor said breastfeedings important. Please.”
Reluctantly, Margaret handed Emily over. Lydia settled in the nursing chair.
“Youre holding her wrong. Support her head higher.”
“Mum, Im doing it how the nurse showed me.”
“But shes uncomfortable. Let me fix”
“No!” Lydias voice cracked. “Please.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Finally, Margaret noticed.
“Lydia, whats wrong?”
“Im exhausted. I need to care for my baby. 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 stunned.
Edward appeared. “Whats going on?”
“Talk to your mother,” Lydia said.
“Mums been over-helping,” Edward said carefully. “Lydia needs to learn motherhood.”
“So Im in the way?” Margarets voice trembled. “I thought I was doing good.”
“Mum, dont”
“No, I see. The mother-in-laws unwanted. Sorry for intruding.”
She locked herself in her room, weeping. After all her effortrejection.
Next morning, Lydia knocked.
“Mum, can we talk?”
Margaret sat stiffly.
Lydia entered, Emily in her arms. “I didnt mean to hurt you. Im grateful for everything.”
“Grateful? You said I was interfering.”
“I said I want to be involved. Lets compromiseyou handle chores; Ill care for Emily. But Ill ask when I need help.”
“And if you make mistakes?”
“Mum, Im not helpless. The health visitor said I can call anytime.”
Margaret looked at Emilypeaceful, healthy.
“Alright. Well try.”
The new routine began. Lydia fed, bathed, changed nappies. Margaret cooked, cleaned.
At first, it was hard not to intervene. But she held back, watching Lydia grow confident.
One night, Emily wailed inconsolablyfeverish, listless.
“Call an ambulance!” Lydia panicked.
“Wait,” Margaret examined Emilys gums. “Could be teething. Early, but possible.”
The GP confirmed itteething, no serious fever.
Lydia exhaled, looking at Margaret differentlynot as a meddler, but a rock.
“Mum, forgive me. You were right. Wed have been lost without you.”
Margaret smiled. “All that matters is Emilys alright.”
That night, they sat togethernew mother, wise grandmother, proud fatherunited by the tiny girl whod bound them forever.
**Lesson:** Love means stepping back so others can step forward. Help isnt controlits support when asked. Families find balance not in taking over, but in trusting each other.
