I could not fathom how Jeffrey and his mother—my daughter's husband and mother-in-law—could leave for a vacation on the day she was giving birth.
But once the anger burned off, what was left was just worry for my girl.
My husband passed away young. I raised Virginia on my own.
To make sure she never had less than anyone else, I'd taken every backbreaking job I could find.
It wrecked my back—years of damage piled up until the doctor told me I needed real rest or it would only get worse.
So when I heard my daughter, the child I'd treated like a treasure, was stranded with no one to help her, panic hit me like a wall.
I hung up, bought the earliest train ticket I could find that night, and went straight to her.
By the time I arrived, Jeffrey and his mother were already gone. Virginia was alone at the hospital.
I didn't even have time to set down my luggage before I was scrambling to take care of her and the baby.
After a few days at the hospital, I carried all our bags, held my granddaughter in my arms, and supported Virginia on the way home.
During her recovery, she needed rest and proper nutrition.