My six-year-old son collapsed at school from what teachers said was severe dehydration. I rushed to the hospital, but my husband’s family blocked the ICU door when I arrived. His father smirked.
“You are not allowed to see him. We’re his real family.”
Mother-in-law added, “You don’t deserve to be near him.”
My husband, who was standing there, nodded in agreement. “They’re right.
Stay away.”
Sister-in-law pushed me back. “Some mothers just aren’t needed.”
My aunt grabbed my hair. “Get lost before we make you.”
I pulled out my phone and made one call to hospital administration.
Thirty minutes later, security dragged them all out while they screamed and fought. I finally got into my son’s room. He was weak and pale with tubes everywhere.
When he saw me, he started crying. What my son whispered next made my blood run cold. Dad, Mom, and Grandma…
The call from Liam’s school came at 1:47 p.m.
on a Tuesday that started like any other ordinary day. Mrs. Patterson, his first-grade teacher, sounded panicked on the phone.
My son had collapsed during recess. The paramedics were already there, loading him into an ambulance headed for St. Michael’s Hospital.
I dropped everything at my desk and ran. Traffic felt like an eternity of red lights and slow-moving vehicles. My hands shook on the steering wheel while thoughts raced through my mind about what could have happened.
Liam had seemed fine that morning when I dropped him off. He’d smiled and waved before running toward his friends on the playground. The hospital parking lot was chaos.
I abandoned my car in the first spot I found and sprinted toward the emergency entrance. A nurse at the front desk directed me to the pediatric intensive care unit on the third floor. The elevator took forever to arrive and I considered taking the stairs instead.
When the doors finally opened on the third floor, I saw them immediately. My husband Kevin stood with his parents near the ICU entrance. His sister Valerie was there too, arms crossed over her chest.
They formed a wall between me and the doors that led to my son. I rushed forward without thinking. Kevin’s father, Robert, stepped directly into my path.
The smirk on his face stopped me cold. “You’re not allowed to see him. We’re his real family.”
His wife, Donna, moved beside him, her expression filled with contempt.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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