She hadn’t discovered something by accident.
She had arrived with a conclusion already formed and used our newborn son as the object she believed would prove it.
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My husband leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“I should have stopped her sooner,” he said.
I reached for his hand.
“You weren’t in the room.”
“I left you with my mother because I thought you were safe.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
He looked at our son.
“I know that now.”
A nurse came in again to check the baby’s vital signs.
Everything remained stable.
That was the first real relief I had felt since waking up.
But the family problem had not disappeared.
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My mother was still sitting across from me.
