Jennifer Blacklock

As the day went on, first Justin and then I became increasingly aware that this seemed unjustified. Willa was medically cleared- the bone scans showed no other injuries, the neurologist had said she was good to go, her labs were done and normal. Why were we still in the hospital? The blanket answer “we’re waiting for CPS to finish their side of things” became unsatisfactory for us. It seemed the hospital was stalling.

I had trouble believing that I might have reason to actually stand up against the hospital, so Justin had to convince me over the phone that the hospital wasn’t in the right here; they had no lawful reason to hold Willa. He said a sheriff investigator was coming to the house to interview them, then he and the kids were going to drive down to get us.

I slowly grew more and more indignant with the way the hospital was handling this situation. They had made me feel small and powerless and isolated and were keeping us there without real reason. I felt so trapped. We had to get out! We needed to be home with our family! This was not right! CPS could finish their investigation outside the hospital, the hospital had cleared Willa to go.

I did all I could do in that quiet lonely room- I prayed. As I did, I felt led to worship. I sang songs of praise to my God, and my faith that He would deliver us grew. A song came to mind- Rescue, by Lauren Daigle- I played it on repeat from my phone and praised God for being my rescuer. This was my S.O.S. I prayed that He would get us out today, knowing He had the power to, that I may be small and helpless, but He is not.

I was not going to sit idly by anymore while the hours turned to days. I was ready to work to get my baby home. God had already prepared me earlier in the morning when I was reading my Bible in Psalm 34 about being a peacemaker. I had remembered the definition of meekness being “strength under control”. Assertive. It was not God’s will for me to become aggressive by being rude or hostile, but neither was it required for me to remain passive and powerless.

The next time the doctor came in, my countenance was different. I told him politely that since there was no medical need for us to be here, I would like them to start our discharge paperwork. I was shot down at first but repeated what Justin had reminded me: “there is no legal or lawful reason for you to hold us here any longer”.

Still shot down. I was told again that they were just waiting on CPS, that medically we were clear, but not clear by CPS yet.

I was frustrated when he left, but prepared to be more assertive the next time. Justin also called the hospital and voiced these complaints. When the doctor returned a while later, he said they needed to do an echo on Willa because they’d heard a slight heart murmur earlier. I repeated my words from before and said that we could come follow up another time to get an echo, but it was not a reason for us to stay today.

The doctor was very pushy and coercive. The way he spoke seemed casual but was laced with fear-mongering, persuasive language, “you know, we see these murmurs- one day the kid’s fine, then they’re blue and it’s too late because the heart over-worked itself.” For some reason it was so clear to me that this wasn’t legitimate- not that she didn’t have a murmur, but that the danger he was implying was a huge exaggeration if not an outright lie. When I pushed back with ”I know that a murmur does not put her in any sort of immediate impending danger, we would like to come back to follow up; right now I need you to start discharge papers”, he had no argument, but said he would “see what they could do” and left the room again.

I was realizing his ability to walk away from the conversation was his real power. What could I do, just sitting here? I called a nurse and asked her to send up someone from registration to talk about discharge. No one ever came.

The doctor returned and, again with persuasion rather than actual reality, tried to convince me to have an echo done. I stood firm and respectfully repeated what I had been saying- it was not lawful or legal for them to hold us against our will.

He would not give in to my request to be discharged. When I said I was going to revoke consent and that I would sign whatever I needed to say we were leaving against their recommendation, he said “the cops would get called” and it would be- and I quote- “a big goofy mess”. He was not taking me seriously. I told him to please get started on our discharge and that if the echo could be done in the next hour or so while they were working on that, then fine, but if not, we would follow up next week. (They did come in to complete the echo about thirty minutes later).

The doctor would not give a direct answer as to whether he would work on getting us discharged. These were some things he said while I, as firmly as possible while remaining peaceable, requested to leave:

“Look at my nametag, do you see ‘MD’ on there? No, ‘OP’; I’m family medicine; I’m on your side; I’m holistic.”

”I want to get you out of here; we just gotta wait for CPS to get their stuff done, ‘til then they have our hands tied.”

“See this scar on my cheek? This is from when I was intubated for three months; I hate hospitals, I get you.”

“What’s so urgent that you have to leave right now?”

“Promise me something? Get out of this room, okay? Take a walk around the hallways; you can take her out of the room just not off this floor.”

“I promise you we’re not, like, conspiring to keep you here.”

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When I talked to Justin, he said he thought we should call the hospital’s bluff. They didn’t have a legitimate reason to keep us there. Still, fear of the worst held me back- what if we get too confrontational for their liking and they use it to take Willa from our custody? We were already in this vulnerable spot, I didn’t want to give them anything they could use to make it worse. I would have stayed there as long as they said as long as it meant keeping my baby with me. This false accusation, protocol or not, had reminded me of awful stories I’d heard of parents having their children taken by CYFD for choosing not to get them immunized or for letting them nap outside.

Justin assured me that wasn’t going to happen. If at any point they said, “you have to stay or we will take custody”, we would back down, of course. But he was sure, with his years in law enforcement, that they didn’t have the authority, not to mention reason, to do that. He said he knows the law only permits for law enforcement to take custody of children and then put them in the care of CYFD, but CYFD alone doesn’t have the authority, and definitely the hospital doesn’t. Even if law enforcement were called, they would be able to see that Willa was safe and sound and that I was safe and sound for her, and again, that if it got to that point, I could simply comply, and they wouldn’t take Willa.

The doctor came in again. It was 4:00 in the afternoon by this point; I knew CPS workers would be going home for the weekend soon and that if it got to be too late in the day, the hospital would surely keep us overnight. I repeated my firm stance, “you don’t have the authority to hold us here. Willa is medically cleared, there’s no reason for us to be here any longer. I do not consent any longer to her being here. CPS can continue their investigation outside of this hospital, it is unnecessary for us to be here. It is important for us to be home with our family. I would like discharge papers.”

Again, the doctor backed away from me while we were talking, which now seemed like a tactic. He said he’d go sit by his phone in order to be there when CPS called, and that he’d find another in-charge person to talk to about our case.”

“I’ll come with you.” I said, and followed closely on his heels out of the room, Willa wrapped on my chest.

We sped-walked through the hallway, and eventually the doctor found another doctor who was just coming in and briefly stated something about me being upset. The new doctor said that he was just getting in and didn’t know anything/couldn’t do anything yet. I presented my case, this time with a growing audience of several nurses and staff members. The funny thing was, I wasn’t shaky or scared anymore. I repeated that I was revoking consent, that they had no lawful or legal reason to hold us, that my baby was medically clear and that the investigation could be finished from our home. I said if they were going to call the cops then to do it now so they could come and see that Willa is safe and fine and release us. The new doctor said he would look at my file but that it might not be his, but if it was, he would come talk to me.

“Okay, so if it is yours, you’ll come talk to me, and if it isn’t”, I turned to the first doctor who’d kept me hanging all day, “then you’ll come talk to me, and I’ll tell you the same thing I have been, but you’ll listen this time?”

I’m sad to recall the look of irritation, possibly defeat, in his eyes. I never wanted a fight. At all. I was fully willing to comply with them until I realized they were taking advantage (needless advantage! What would they gain from this? As far as I know, nothing!). But now we were engaged in this conflict, and I was going to do all in my power to get my baby home.

A woman who introduced herself as the nurse manager or nurse of the floor or something stepped forward at that point and said sincerely “ma’am, I will take a look at your file right now and get this taken care of. I’ll come to your room in 10-15 minutes.”

I thanked her and headed back to our room, knowing we’d won.

I had already packed up our stuff earlier when I had decided to be bold and firm and had prayed in faith that it would be today. I waited for a mere five minutes in our room, thanking God for his help, they brought discharge papers for me to sign, and we were out.

Justin and the kids met me in the hallway. Justin said he had been preparing to “lay down the law”, but didn’t have to and told me how proud he was of me. The kids and I all hugged, everyone hugged Willa and she smiled and kicked happily. We walked triumphantly out.

It felt surreal and, I guess, confusing. So much draining effort, for something so small and simple as being discharged from the hospital when everything was fine? But we just thanked God that we were free and together. It seemed like so long that we’d been apart.

We had a celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant. I kept sighing in relief, trying to accept and let go of the past two days.

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After the weekend, a CYFD worker came to our house and said he wasn’t at all concerned about any issues of safety. He was nice and professional and kept his visit brief.

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I’ve been up and down, emotionally; and, though less noticeable, so have the kids, especially our toddler. The first three mornings we were home I cried. Now that I’ve had time and ability to process it more, the hardest part has been guilt. Despite it being accidental, I still feel so guilty that Willa did get this terrible injury.

Sometimes I just thank God over and over and over that she’s ok.

Sometimes I deal with terrible intrusive thoughts, picturing what it might have been like the moment she hit the floor… the pain she must’ve felt in that instant… replaying her cry in my head.

Sometimes, especially at first, I would just apologize to her again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry I let this happen to you”, crying and crying while she’d smile up at me.

Almost everyone I’ve talked to about the ordeal has comforted me (or tried to) with their experiences of babies falling off the bed or changing table, or of them dropping them accidentally. In trying to process at first, I came across a Reddit forum where someone was dealing with the guilt of tripping and falling while holding their baby and the baby acquiring a skull fracture. Person after person shared similar stories, including having the incidents reported to CPS. A couple people who commented were social workers or nurses and talked about how they saw things like this all the time and urged the original poster not to feel guilty. Though nurses and friends had told me the same thing during the ordeal, I guess I didn’t really believe it until I saw it said to someone else. I guess I felt like maybe when people said it to me they were just trying to make me feel better. But reading those other stories and the encouragements to flee guilt have really helped me in all this. So I guess that’s what I hope to accomplish in sharing this story (besides just my own processing). We make mistakes and learn from them. I’m now a “never, ever let a baby nap on the bed” type of person.

Today I brought my children to the lake to play. I’m letting them play like kids and take reasonable risks like swimming out a little further than what I’d prefer, “sword-fighting” with big sticks, and trying to catch fish with makeshift nets; I know how important this all is for their development. None of us have sunscreen on, so we can soak up the benefits of the sun, and I’m letting Willa sit in the sand and inevitably get it on her hands and mouth. Now I’m fighting the urge to obsess over whether people would think of this as neglectful in some way. But mostly, I’m still just thankful God protected Willa, brought us through, and works everything for good.

“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

Romans 8:28