Margaret rested in the maternity ward while my husband and I struggled with the grandchildren. I couldn’t help thinking she’d checked into the hospital early on purpose.
“My son says, ‘Mum, you see how it is—you’re the only one who can help!'” shared sixty-year-old Elizabeth Turner from York. “What choice do I have? I help as much as I can. But I’m completely worn out…”
Ten days ago, her daughter-in-law, Emily, nine months pregnant, complained of a fever, a runny nose, and a sore throat. A couple of days later, she lost her sense of taste and smell. Elizabeth’s son, William, worked long hours on a construction site, leaving no one to mind the children. So Emily, without much thought, checked into the hospital—”for observation”—while their two little ones, aged four and two, were left with their grandparents.
“I understand it’s about health, and she’s 41 weeks along… but why so long? Last time, she gave birth in a couple of hours—we barely made it to the hospital. Now she’s been lying there for two weeks like she’s at a spa. Binge-watching series, making William bring her a laptop, saying she’s waiting for contractions. Meanwhile, we’re here with the grandchildren, desperate for a break.”
Elizabeth spoke with a hint of resentment. She wasn’t one to complain, but exhaustion and frustration built with each day. Emily had always left the children with her own mother before. Now, suddenly, the paternal grandmother was the “last hope.”
“Vincent and I aren’t young anymore. From dawn till dusk, it’s chaos—one’s in nappies, the other screams if the spoon’s the wrong colour. Mealtime’s a battle, bath time’s a struggle, bedtime’s a circus. They miss their mum, constantly asking when she’ll be back. Honestly, I don’t know myself…”
Elizabeth remembered the last time Emily checked in early. Back then, there was only one child, and they’d had to hand him to a neighbour until she could get there. Just an hour and a half after the call, Emily had given birth—everything happened in a flash. Now, here they were again with baby number three.
“Six months ago, William told me they were expecting again. I said, ‘Are you trying to break a record?’ He just replied, ‘Mum, don’t worry, we’ve got it all planned.’ Of course. It’s all fine until trouble hits—then it’s, ‘Mum, we need you!’ What can I do? I can’t say no. But it’s taking everything out of me.”
The eldest grandson used to go to nursery, but Emily pulled him out, saying she didn’t want him getting sick before the birth. Elizabeth couldn’t take him across town, so they were stuck at home—where chaos and shouting never ceased. Even when the children finally quieted down, their cries still echoed in her head.
“The youngest can’t use a spoon—porridge everywhere. The eldest is whining all day, and they fight constantly. I look at them and wonder, how will Emily manage three? I can barely cope with two.”
In the evenings, when Vincent returned from work, he took over the children while Elizabeth prepped meals for the next day. Feeding, bathing, laundry, cleaning—she barely had a moment to ring her son by nine.
“I ask, ‘Any news? Has she had the baby yet?’ William just says, ‘No, still waiting. The scan’s fine—it’s a girl, healthy.’ So now what—another fortnight in hospital?”
Elizabeth didn’t hide her irritation. It wasn’t the pregnancy that bothered her, but how it was all arranged. To her, Emily was treating it like a holiday—lounging in hospital, chatting on forums, watching films, while home and children were an afterthought.
“I told my son, ‘Have her discharged. If she goes into labour at home, we’ll call an ambulance like everyone else.’ His mate’s wife gave birth and was home the next day! My friend’s daughter had a quick birth too. But no, we get this whole spectacle.”
“Does William say anything?”
“What can he say? ‘Mum, just hang in there, it’s almost over, she can’t leave now.’ I told him, ‘Let her sign herself out and come home!’ But no—he won’t listen. I’m hanging on by a thread…”
So who’s right here? The daughter-in-law who chose to prioritise her health and checked in early? Or the mother-in-law, stretched to breaking point, carrying someone else’s responsibilities?
It’s hard to say. But one thing’s clear—a grandmother’s patience has its limits. Sometimes, the greatest kindness isn’t just helping, but knowing when to ask for help in return.
