The first thing I asked the nurse was whether my daughter was all right.
I didn't ask about my parents.
I didn't ask about the document.
I didn't ask whether Evelyn had spoken to security.
I wanted to know about the baby.
The nurse reassured me that the medical team was monitoring the situation.
She explained that they would continue watching me closely.
I nodded.
I tried to settle back into the bed.
My arm still hurt where my mother had grabbed it.
I looked at the spot for a while.
There was something humiliating about seeing the evidence of that moment on my own body.
I had imagined many things happening during childbirth.
I had imagined pain.
I had imagined fear.
I had imagined missing Jason.
I had never imagined my mother standing over me with a banking application open.
I closed my eyes.
The image stayed there anyway.
A little later, Evelyn returned.
She had spoken with the appropriate hospital personnel and wanted to make sure I understood what would happen next.
She sat near the table.
The ivory folder was beside her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Exhausted."
"That's understandable."
I looked at her.
"Are they allowed to come back?"
She explained that I could tell the hospital staff I didn't want further visitors.
They could follow the appropriate procedures and help maintain a quiet environment.
I felt relieved.
I had been worried that my parents could simply return whenever they wanted.
Evelyn also reminded me to preserve every new message.
I nodded.
Then I asked the question I had been afraid to ask.
"Can they really use what my mother said against me?"
Evelyn looked at me carefully.
"Someone making an accusation doesn't make that accusation true."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"Your mother threatened to contact Child Protective Services because you refused to give her money. That threat is important to document. It doesn't establish that you're incapable of caring for your child."
I felt my eyes fill.
I had been carrying that fear for weeks.
Every time I thought about the baby coming home, my mother's words returned.
Maybe you're not prepared.
I had begun to question myself.
Not because I believed her.
Because she was my mother.
There was a part of me that still wanted her approval.
That was difficult to admit.
Evelyn seemed to understand.
"You're preparing for your daughter's medical needs. You've been attending appointments and making arrangements. Keep your records together."
I nodded.
"I have all the paperwork."
"Good. Keep it that way."
I looked at the folder.
"Did you already know they might come?"
"I knew there was a possibility."
I remembered the conversation we had before.
She had told me to call when I was admitted.
I had followed that instruction.
I was glad I had.
For the first time, I understood why she had wanted the messages saved.
A conversation could become one person's word against another's.
A record was different.
I had the texts.
I had the voicemail.
I had the messages about the wedding expenses.
I had the earlier threat.
And now there was a record of what had happened in the hospital.
Evelyn asked whether I wanted to add anything to the account of the confrontation while it was still fresh.
I told her what I remembered.
My mother's phone.
The banking application.
The demand for the transfer.
My father's words.
My mother's hand around my arm.
The alarm.
I didn't try to make myself sound better.
I didn't exaggerate what had happened.
I simply told her the truth.
When I finished, Evelyn thanked me.
Then she told me to concentrate on my health.
I was grateful for that.
I didn't want to spend the rest of the day thinking about my parents.
I wanted to become a mother.
A few minutes later, I reached for my phone.
There were notifications.
I didn't open them immediately.
I knew who they were probably from.
I looked at the screen.
Taylor had sent a message.
It was short.
She wanted to know why I had involved an attorney.
I read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
My mother wanted me to call her.
I put the phone down.
I wasn't going to answer.
Not now.
Not while I was in a hospital bed trying to bring my daughter safely into the world.
I thought about Jason.
If he had been there, I knew he would have stood between me and my parents.
He wouldn't have allowed my mother to touch me.
He wouldn't have let my father speak to me that way.
But he wasn't there.
I had to accept that.
I couldn't keep imagining what he would have done and then feeling guilty because I couldn't make the world behave as he might have wanted.
I could only do what I could.
Protect our daughter.
That was enough.
The next hours passed slowly.
There were checks.
There were instructions.
There were moments when the contractions became difficult to manage.
The medical team continued caring for me.
I tried to follow everything they told me.
Sometimes I looked toward the chair beside the bed.
I imagined Jason sitting there.
I imagined his hand around mine.
I imagined telling him that our daughter was close.
The thought made me cry.
A nurse noticed.
"Would you like a moment?"
I shook my head.
"I'm just missing my husband."
She didn't ask me to explain.
She simply gave me a little time.
I appreciated that more than I could say.
My phone vibrated again.
I glanced at it.
Another message from my mother.
I didn't open it.
The screen went dark.
I thought about the spare key.
She had entered my home with it.
She had stood in my living room and demanded money.
She had threatened me when I refused.
Now she had come into my hospital room and tried again.
The key had seemed like a small thing when she borrowed it.
A convenience.
A way for her to help if I needed something.
Looking back, I wished I had insisted on getting it back sooner.
I had confused trust with obligation.
I had believed that because she was my mother, she would respect the boundaries of my home.
That belief had cost me peace.
It wouldn't happen again.
I didn't know what the next few days would bring.
I didn't know how my parents would respond to Evelyn.
I didn't know whether Taylor would finally understand why the money couldn't be used for her wedding.
But I knew one thing.
I was no longer going to explain my daughter's medical needs as though I needed permission to protect her.
The money was there for a reason.
Jason and I had saved it.
I had kept it safe.
And I intended to keep doing that.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: My Sister Finally Had To Look At The Difference Between Her Wedding Problems And The Child I Was Fighting For
The Twenty-Five Thousand Dollars My Parents Believed They Had Every Right To Take From Me
Part 6 of 12
