At 104 Degrees My Baby Was Burning Up, and the Doctor Said New Mothers Panic Over Nothing. Then My Seven-Year-Old Lifted Her Teddy Bear and Asked to Tell Him What Grandma Had Really Been Doing
My rest was not a gift they were giving me; it was the window they needed.
They could only do what they did to my son because they had first talked me into being unconscious for it, and they had talked me into it by dressing it up as care.
I would lie awake later, in the hospital and long after, turning that over — how the very thing that had felt like the first real support I’d had in months was the mechanism of the harm.
It taught me something I have not been able to un-learn, and that I am not sure I want to.
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