The nurse looked at the bruise and then looked at me for a long moment. When we were alone, she said, “You don’t have to wait until it gets worse before you set a boundary.” I started crying because nobody had said that to me since the baby was born. She asked whether my mother-in-law had ever grabbed me before. I told her yes, but never hard enough to leave a mark.
The nurse documented the bruise and asked if I wanted her to tell my husband. I said no. He was asleep, and somehow I still felt responsible for protecting him from the truth. She nodded and said something I’ll remember forever: “You are not responsible for making everyone comfortable while you’re recovering.”
When my mother-in-law came back into the room, the nurse told her that I was not to be handled physically again and that the baby was not to be taken from me without my permission. My mother-in-law laughed and said everyone was being dramatic. Then my husband woke up and asked what happened.
I showed him my arm. He looked at his mother, then back at me. She immediately started explaining that she’d only been trying to help. My husband didn’t defend her. He stood up, took the baby from the bassinet, and said, “Mom, you’re going home.” Six years later, I still think about that nurse. She didn’t make the decision for me. She simply made it possible for me to realize that I was allowed to make one.
