Part 1: A Midnight Fever in San Diego
My baby had a 104-degree fever when my husband called his mother from the emergency room. She arrived in a wool coat thrown over what looked like pajamas, walked straight past me and our sick four-month-old daughter, grabbed her son’s coat, shoved it into his hands, and announced that she was taking him home. Then she said the words I would never forget: “He didn’t sign up for this much stress!”
I didn’t argue with her. I didn’t scream, nor did I cry, but instead, I gave my husband one choice and stood there to watch what he would do. My daughter’s name is Hazel, and she was four months old the night I realized that my husband, Liam, had somehow convinced himself that fatherhood was entirely optional.
It was 11:30 p.m. in our apartment in San Diego when I was holding Hazel against my chest and noticed how dangerously hot she felt. She was not just normally warm like babies usually are when they are sleeping, but she was burning up, which made me immediately grab the thermometer to check her temperature.
I took her temperature once and then again because I simply didn’t trust the first reading that flashed on the screen. The second reading was even worse when it displayed 104.1 degrees, making my heart drop instantly. Hazel was crying against my shoulder, and I could feel her little body trembling uncontrollably while I reached for my phone.
I called our pediatrician, Dr. Gable, trying to keep my voice steady while explaining what was happening, though my voice kept breaking with every breath. “Take her to Scripps Mercy Hospital right now, and don’t wait to see if the fever comes down on its own,” Dr. Gable told me without any hesitation.
I hung up the phone immediately and turned toward my husband, who was standing near the kitchen counter wearing his lounge pants. “What did Dr. Gable say?” Liam asked me as he looked up with a tired expression.
“We need to go to the emergency room right now,” I told him urgently as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
He closed his eyes tightly and muttered something under his breath that I didn’t fully understand at the time. “Could this night get any worse?” he grumbled softly while rubbing his forehead.
I was too scared for Hazel to think deeply about his words right then, so I just grabbed the diaper bag while he grabbed his car keys, and we left the apartment together. At the time, I thought he was simply overwhelmed by fear and that stress had made him say something stupid. I genuinely believed that once we arrived at the hospital, he would step up and become the protective father I always thought he was, but I was completely wrong.
Part 2: Waiting in the ER
By two in the morning, we were still sitting in the crowded waiting area of the hospital emergency room. Hazel had screamed herself hoarse over the hours, and her cries had turned into weak, broken little sounds that twisted my stomach every single time I heard them.
I sat in a hard plastic chair with Hazel tucked closely against my chest, rocking back and forth continuously to soothe her. Liam paced back and forth near the vending machines, checking his phone every few minutes before looking up at the wall clock and checking his phone again.
“This is completely ridiculous,” Liam said as he walked back over to me and rubbed both hands over his face in frustration.
“I know this is taking a long time, Liam, but we are in the right place for her, and they will get to us soon,” I replied softly while looking up at him.
“You don’t get it, Paige,” he said in an irritated tone as he stared down at his screen. “I have the big quarterly presentation at nine this morning.”
For a second, I honestly thought I had misheard what he said over the noise of the waiting room. “Are you seriously worried about your presentation right now?” I asked him in total disbelief.
“I can’t walk into the board meeting looking like I haven’t slept a single minute,” he said while tightening his jaw.
“Right,” I replied quietly as I looked at him. “That would clearly be the real emergency tonight.”
“Don’t start with me, Paige,” he snapped back, looking increasingly annoyed by my response. “You really don’t get how high the stakes are for my job.”
“No,” I said as I held my daughter tighter. “I think I’m actually starting to get it completely.”
Our four-month-old daughter had a fever of over 104 degrees, she was exhausted and sick, and we had been sitting in an emergency room for hours, yet Liam was only worried about how tired he would look at work. I could feel something deep inside me beginning to change forever as I watched him step away.
“I’m going to make a quick phone call,” he declared as he pulled his phone back out of his pocket.
“To who?” I asked, looking up at him with confusion.
He didn’t answer my question and simply walked away toward the exit doors to make his call. I turned my attention back to Hazel, kissing the top of her warm head and whispering that everything was going to be okay, though I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring her or myself.
Part 3: The Departure
Twenty minutes later, the automatic sliding doors opened, and Liam’s mother, Brenda, walked directly into the waiting room. She was wearing a heavy wool coat thrown over what looked like her flannel pajamas, with her graying hair tied back hastily as if she had gotten dressed in total dark.
For one foolish second, a wave of relief washed over me because I thought Liam had called her because he was terrified for his daughter. I thought maybe she had come to check on her sick granddaughter or sit beside me to offer some support during a scary night.
Instead, Brenda walked straight past me without even glancing down at Hazel in my arms. She reached for the jacket lying on the plastic chair beside me, which belonged to Liam, grabbed it firmly, and shoved it into his hands.
“Come on, Liam,” Brenda announced loudly. “I’m taking you home with me right now.”
I stared at her in absolute shock before turning my head to look at Liam, who didn’t look surprised at all. Suddenly, his mysterious phone call from twenty minutes ago made complete sense to me.
“You can sleep in your old bedroom for a few hours, take a hot shower, and go straight to work from my house,” Brenda repeated firmly while grabbing his arm.
“Brenda, what on earth are you doing?” I asked, feeling like the entire waiting room was tilting beneath my feet.
“I am helping my son,” she replied, turning toward me with a stern look on her face.
“We are waiting for a doctor to see Hazel,” I said, pointing down at our sick baby.
“I know that, Paige,” she said flatly. “But he has an extremely important meeting in the morning, and he needs his proper rest.”
