The fluorescent lights above my hospital bed were excessively bright, making everything around me look too brilliant and fake. Even after all the classes I took to learn how to give birth, my body hurt in ways I never thought imaginable. After twenty-seven hours of labor that ended in an emergency C-section, I felt like I had been turned inside out, and every muscle in my body was shaking with fatigue. But none of that mattered when I saw the two little faces next to me, all wrapped up in blue blankets. My twin kids, Oliver and Nathan, both weighed six pounds and were wonderful in every aspect that mattered. Nathan had a small birthmark on his right shoulder, while Oliver had one on his left ankle.
Jake,
Then my mom came in through the door.
Her deliberate stride, which usually preceded her most ridiculous requests, should have told me something was amiss. As usual, my father trudged after her, his shoulders slightly slumped as if he had given up. But it was my sister Veronica who made my stomach turn. She followed them both, with her husband Derek at her side. The look on her face made me feel cold, even though the hospital room was warm.
“Well,
My mom didn’t waste any time. “Your sister wants a baby to play with, and if she gets bored, she will just give it back to you.”
The words hung in the air like a terrible smell. I really did chuckle, but it came out harsher than I meant it to. For a second, I thought she was making a sick joke, but her face stayed utterly serious.
“Excuse me?”” I was able to pull the blankets closer around my sleeping sons without thinking about it.
Veronica stepped forward, and the sound of her heels on the linoleum floor was loud. “Mom informed me about everything during our drive here.” You have two. I don’t have any. You should share since it’s only fair.” I’ve always wanted to be a mother, and this way I wouldn’t have to go through all that.” She waved her hand at my body, and her lip curled slightly, as if she thought pregnancy and major surgery were annoying things she was grateful to avoid.
“All what?” “I asked, my voice rising even though I tried to be cool.
“The weight gain, the stretch marks, the recovery,” Derek said for the first time. I could tell from the way he spoke that he was being condescending. “We’ve spoken about adoption, but this seems like a lot better way to go. “Family helping family.”
I stared at them, hoping that someone would finally say this was a long, cruel joke. But they all looked at me with different levels of expectation and entitlement. I said, “You’re crazy.” “These are my kids.” My boys. I’m not giving either of them to anyone.
Her face changed, and her features turned into something horrible. She looked practically unrecognizable because she was jealous. “Of course, you’re being selfish about this,” she said angrily. “You’ve always been given everything you want. First, you got Jake, even though Derek and I introduced you to him at that cookout, and I certainly saw him first. You got pregnant the first time you tried, but Derek and I have been trying for three years. And now you have two healthy boys, but you can’t even give one to your sister.
It made me angry how bold her revisionist history was. I said, “Veronica, you need to go,” attempting to keep my voice steady. “Right now, all of you need to go.”
My dad spoke up for the first time. He used that weak, soothing voice he always did. “Some folks just need to talk to their families. Your mother and I told you ladies everything as you grew up.
“Shared toys, Dad.” Bedrooms that are shared. “Not shared children.” My hands were shaking, and I could feel tears starting to form. I had just gotten through the worst physical challenge of my life, and instead of helping me, my family was asking that I give them one of my newborn sons like they wanted to borrow a purse.
Veronica stepped closer to the bassinet where Oliver was resting and reached out her hand. “This one would be excellent. Check out all that dark hair. Derek’s hair is dark. People would automatically think he was ours.
“Don’t touch him!” My voice sounded like a growl, something primitive and fierce that I didn’t know. “Get away from my baby right now!””
“Your baby?” “Veronica’s laugh was high and brittle.” “You have two!” Do you know how it makes someone like me feel? You undoubtedly moaned about having morning sickness and swollen ankles, but I would have done anything to have those things happen to me. And look at them. They are very little and wrinkly. You wouldn’t be able to tell them apart even if you tried. What would happen if I took one? You would still have the other one. You would still be able to be a mother. But I would finally receive what I deserve.
I reached over and moved Nathan’s blanket so that the birthmark on his shoulder was easy to see. “They’re not the same. Nathan has a mark on his right shoulder that was there when he was born. Oliver has one on his left ankle. I can tell them apart perfectly fine, and they can’t be used in place of each other. They are individuals, real people who should be raised by their real parents. You can’t have either of them.
That’s when my mom’s expression transformed. The fake patience went away, and real anger took its place. “You ungrateful little brat,” she shouted as she walked toward my hospital bed. “You can’t do this one simple thing for your sister, who is in pain after everything I have done for you?” “
“Mom, please,” I said, but she didn’t hear me. Her hands were quivering and white-knuckled as she tightened them into fists. She hit me on the head with one on each side before I could do anything. The blow made stars explode in front of my eyes, and the agony was quick and terrible. Both babies started to scream, and their sounds were harsh and loud. The noise seemed to make my mom even angrier. She pulled her hands back as if to hit again, but she never got the chance.
The door flew open with such force that it hit the wall. A nurse I didn’t know hurried in first, looking scared. Then Cheryl, the head nurse who had supported me through the worst of my contractions, came in right after. Two hospital security guards followed closely behind them, their features serious and attentive.
“Get away from the patient right now!” “Get in between my mother and my bed,” the first nurse ordered.
Cheryl was already looking at the monitors, and her face was getting darker. “Your heart rate and blood pressure have been dangerously high for the last twenty minutes.” We have been observing from the main control room.
“Have you been watching?”” My mom’s face became white.
Cheryl stated in a chilly voice, “Every postpartum room has audio and visual monitoring.” “It’s hospital policy to keep patients safe, especially after difficult deliveries.” We saw that four people came into this room even though the sign said only two people could be in there at a time. We looked at the live feed again when we observed your daughter’s vital signs go up. We heard everything you said, including the threats to your child and the harassment. We also saw you raise your fists.
At that time, Jake walked into the room. His shirt was stained with coffee, his face was pale, and his eyes were wide. He told Cheryl, “I got your text,” out of breath.
Cheryl said to me, “We messaged him as soon as we knew we needed to step in.” Then she turned back to my mother with steel in her voice. “We were already on our way when you hit her.” Security got the video right away when we contacted them. “Everything is saved and recorded.”
Dr. Patterson came up behind Jake in his white coat, his face set in a look of controlled rage. “Get away from my patient.” Right now.
With her hands still raised, my mother froze, caught in the act.
Jake crossed the room to my bed in three long strides. He was gentle as he helped me sit up straight and checked the sides of my head. “Are you okay? “Did she hurt you a lot?”
I could only nod since I didn’t trust myself to talk without utterly losing it.
The guards had put themselves between my bed and my family. The older of the two spoke directly to my mother. “Ma’am, you need to leave the building right away.” You four.
My father said, “This is family business,” but his voice was shaky. You can’t tell us we can’t see our daughter.
The younger security guard answered firmly, “We can, and we are.” “You broke the rules for visitors, and this whole conversation was recorded, even the physical attack.” “Police are on their way.”
“You were watching?”” Veronica’s speech sounded choked, and her face lost all color.
Cheryl responded in a voice that sounded like steel, “We keep a close eye on all of our postpartum patients.” “Especially after hard deliveries.” We heard every statement, every threat, and every demand.
Derek, the business lawyer, hadn’t said anything until now, but his face had gone from red to gray. He certainly knew what it meant. He suddenly shouted, “We should go,” and grabbed Veronica’s arm.
The guard answered, “Oh, you’ll be leaving.” “But first, we need your information for the police report. And you are all barred from the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. If you try to come back, you’ll be arrested for trespassing.
“Arrested?” “my mother’s voice got louder.
Dr. Patterson said, “You are being accused of attacking a patient.” “What you did is battery.” It makes it worse that your daughter just had an emergency C-section. She is medically weak. What you did may have caused her incision to break open or babies to fall. This incident isn’t just a little fight amongst family members.
Jake held me in his arms, being cautious not to hurt my still-sore stomach, as I tried to calm Nathan down. One of the nurses had taken up Oliver and was rocking him back and forth.
“I want them charged,” I added, even though I didn’t feel that way. “All of them,” I said. “I am seeking a protection order.” I want them to never come near me or my kids again.
My dad looked surprised and exclaimed, “Sarah, you can’t be serious.” “We are your parents.” Your family.
I said, “My family is right here,” staring at Jake and our boys. “You stopped being my family when you asked me to give away my child like he was a toy.” I remember the time when Mom struck me while I was holding my new babies.
Veronica was crying, and her mascara was pouring down her face. “I just wanted a kid!” Is that so bad? Is it bad to want something you already have?”
I said, “It’s not wrong to want kids,” and I was shocked at how calm I sounded. “It’s not right to attempt to take someone else’s children.” If you’re having a difficult time, you shouldn’t think you have the right to someone else’s kids. And it’s much worse to bother a mother who just had a baby, make fun of her kids, and ask her to give one to you.
Derek was dragging Veronica toward the door and mumbling quickly. She lost her cool entirely. For a brief moment, I nearly felt awful for her. Almost. But then I remembered that she had been standing over Oliver’s bassinet, figuring out which of my sons would be easier to pass off as hers, and the pity went away.
Two cops showed up while security was taking my family out. Jake held both twins and had a tight jaw when I presented my statement. The police took pictures of the red stains on my temples. They wrote down the names of everyone who saw or heard what happened. When they threatened to charge me with assault, I acted without hesitation. “I want to charge my mother with assault and look into charging all three of them with harassment.”
Jake continued forcefully, “I will also charge them with trespassing if they come back.”
There was a woman with kind eyes sitting next to my bed. “We see things like this happen more often than you might think.” The fact that they came in here just after you had given birth and made these demands demonstrates a level of entitlement and dysfunction that usually becomes worse if not stopped.
“What will happen now?” “Please tell me,” I said.
“We’ll send in the report.” The District Attorney will look at all the material, including the video. Given that the attack occurred in a hospital room while you were holding a baby, I believe the likelihood of charges is high. You can also ask for an emergency protection order, and we can help you get started right away.
I spent the following hour filling out paperwork for restraining orders against all three of them. They couldn’t talk to me, come near my house or job, or talk to me through other people.
Jake called his parents, who lived three hours away. When she heard what happened, his mother started to cry on the phone. She said firmly, “We’re coming now.” “You, Sarah, and the babies are going to stay with us until the damage is fixed.”
Jake tried to counter, “Mom, Sarah just had major surgery.”
But I shook my head. “I really want to go.” I don’t want to go home knowing they know where we live.
Dr. Patterson said it was okay for me to travel as long as I had the necessary help. The hospital social worker set up a medical transport van with a paramedic on board. It was severe, but after what had just transpired, it seemed like it was needed.
Cheryl took me aside before we left. “I’ve worked as a labor and delivery nurse for twenty-three years,” she remarked in a low voice. “I’ve been through a lot.” But I’ve never seen anything like what happened here today. The sense of entitlement, the complete lack of concern for your well-being, and the nerve to ask for your child and then attack you are truly remarkable. That’s not a regular fight between family members. That is abuse.
Her words sank into my chest, weighty yet somehow calming. Mistreatment. I had spent a lot of time making my mother’s actions seem normal, but this was abuse. It always was.
I said, “Thank you.” “For keeping an eye on the monitors and stepping in.”
“Sweetheart, that’s what we do. We keep our patients safe—all of them. She looked at Oliver and Nathan, who were already sleeping soundly. “Especially the little ones who can’t protect themselves.”
For the first several days at Jake’s parents’ house, it was all about feeding schedules, changing diapers, and learning how to take care of two babies. Patricia, his mother, was a blessing since she worked nights so we could sleep. Michael, his father, was unexpectedly proficient at swaddling.
On the sixth day, I got a text from an old high school classmate. Hey Sarah, I heard what went down. I just wanted to let you know that your mom did something like that to my cousin when she delivered twins nine years ago. At that time, she also attempted to persuade my cousin to give one of the babies to Veronica. Your family stopped communicating with my cousin when she said no. I should have told you. I’m sorry.
The statement struck me deeply. This wasn’t just a one-time outburst. This event happened over and over. They had made plans for this. I told Jake about the message. His jaw got stiff. “We need to give the information to the prosecutor.”
I called the prosecutor’s office right away. They were quite interested. They found Jennifer, the cousin, within twenty-four hours. She told me in vivid detail how my mother had come to her in the hospital nine years ago with the same offer and used almost the same words: “Your sister needs a baby.” You have two. “It’s only fair to share,” Jennifer said, but my whole family cut her off and deleted her from their lives as if she had never lived.
The prosecutor called me directly. She remarked, “This changes things a lot.” “This shows a pattern of behavior, a belief that they have the right to other people’s kids.” This, along with the assault, makes it look like things are getting worse. First, they requested to attend social events but were then punished by being excluded from them. This time, they inquired and then used force.
“Will it help the case?” “I asked.
“Very much. It proves that this wasn’t a mistake made in the heat of the moment. It was a planned attack that got violent when you didn’t do what they said.
Somehow, the local news received the essential facts of the case, but not my name. A headline on the evening news said, “Local Woman Attacked in Hospital After Refusing to Give Newborn to Relative.” People were shocked and disgusted by what they said about my family online.
On the seventh day, the District Attorney’s office called. They were accusing my mother of assault and all three of them of harassment. The security video was awful.
Derek contacted Jake’s cell phone a week later. Without any introduction, he continued, “I need you to drop the charges.” “This is getting out of hand.” Veronica is having a challenging time. Your mom could lose her job.
“Are you referring to the family that wanted my wife to give them one of our newborn sons?” “Jake’s voice was cold. ” Are you referring to the family that attacked her in the hospital room?
“You know what’s vengeful?” I said something and moved closer to the phone. “Walking into a hospital room where a woman just had major surgery and telling her to give you her baby.” Making fun of babies because you’re jealous. “Standing there while your wife bothers someone when they’re at their most vulnerable.”
“Veronica just wanted a kid!” Is that really that difficult to get?”
“Wanting a child doesn’t mean you have the right to someone else’s child.” Derek, you’re a lawyer. You already know this.
There was a long pause. Derek’s voice had lost its confidence when he spoke again. “The charges are going to destroy Veronica.”
Jake answered in a cold voice, “Then maybe she shouldn’t have done what she did.” “Actions have results.”
“You’re going to ruin this family.”
“No,” I answered firmly. “They ruined this family the moment they thought my kids were things to be traded.” We’re just making sure they pay the price.
Two weeks later, the first hearing took place. My mom, dad, and Veronica were already there with their lawyer. They wouldn’t look me in the eye. The judge, who was in her sixties, examined the file and watched some of the security tape. The judge’s face tightened when my mother’s counsel said it was a “family matter blown out of proportion.”
“Let me make sure I understand,” she remarked in a sharp voice. “You’re saying that going into a hospital room, demanding a woman give you her newborn child, and then beating her up when she doesn’t is a family matter that shouldn’t be taken to court?” “
The lawyer didn’t have a good answer. The judge made the restraining orders last forever. The criminal charges would go to court.
Just before the trial began, my mother consented to a plea agreement three months later. She admitted to assault and got two years of probation, required anger management programs, and a permanent stamp on her criminal record. Veronica and Derek were found guilty of harassment and breaking the law by trespassing. They had to pay large fines and do community service. The restraining orders stayed in place.
I didn’t go to the last sentencing. I was home with my five-month-old twins, watching them learn to roll over and discover their hands. Jake got home from the hearing and saw us on the floor of the living room.
He said, “It’s over.” “Plea deals were made.” The judge gave them a severe talk about family rules and abuse.
I said, “Good,” and I meant it.
We had moved to a new house in a different part of town. Every weekend, Jake’s parents came to see him. We had met new acquaintances, other young parents who knew that family didn’t have to mean biological relatives who were cruel to you.
I sometimes thought I should feel worse about what happened to them. But then I’d remember how worn out and weak I felt when my mother told me to give away my child while I was in the hospital. I would remember how her fists hit my skull while my babies screamed, and I would be happy that they had to deal with actual repercussions.
Nathan held Oliver’s hand and said something that sounded like “Mama.” Both of them started to giggle like babies. They would never know how close they had come to being separated, how their grandmother had perceived them as the same person, or how their aunt had intended to take one like a dog from a litter. They would never know because I safeguarded them, set limits, and wouldn’t let anyone treat my kids as anything less than the unique individuals they were.
“No regrets?” Jake asked as he sat down on the floor next to us.
I looked at my family, who were all secure, healthy, and united. “Not a single one,” I said, and I meant it.
