I left my three-month-old daughter with her grandmother for just ten minutes — when I came back, my baby’s face was red, and only two hours later the ambulance doctor shouted right in front of my eyes: “Get her to the operating room immediately and call the police!” 

My mother-in-law and I never got along. From the very first day, she looked at me as a temporary mistake in her son’s life. She didn’t like the way I spoke, the way I held the baby, the way I dressed, the way I breathed. Every move I made came with comments: “you’re holding her wrong,” “you’re feeding her wrong,” “you panic too much.” I endured it. For my husband.

When our daughter turned three months old, we stopped by my mother-in-law’s place briefly. I was holding the baby in my arms; she was breathing softly, her little nose pressed against my chest. Suddenly, my mother-in-law rushed over and literally snatched the child out of my hands.

“Let her stay with Grandma,” she said in a tone that made it sound like the decision had already been made.

“Please, give her back to me,” I felt anxiety rise instantly. “You don’t know how to handle her properly.”

My mother-in-law smirked, pressing the baby to herself.
“I raised two children. I know better than you.”

I looked at my husband, hoping for support. He avoided my gaze and muttered,
“Mom, be careful…”
“Oh, stop it,” she waved him off.

I had to agree. I kept telling myself it was only ten minutes. Just ten.

But it was less. Much less.

From the next room came a piercing, wild scream. Not an ordinary baby cry, but the kind that makes your insides clench. I jumped up and ran in. My daughter was screaming hysterically, her face bright red, gasping from crying, writhing with her whole body.

“What did you do to her?!” I screamed, ripping the baby out of my mother-in-law’s hands.

“Nothing,” she replied coldly. “She just started crying. Hysterical, just like her mother.”

But this wasn’t normal crying. I understood that immediately. My daughter was screaming as if she were in terrible pain. She couldn’t calm down, her little body was tensing, her face growing redder and redder. I pressed her to myself, but it was as if she couldn’t feel my arms.

My husband tried to calm me down:
“All babies are like that, stop panicking.”

I didn’t listen to anyone. I grabbed my jacket, my child, the documents — and we went to the hospital.

In the emergency room, the doctor took the baby in his arms, examined her, and his face changed instantly. He was no longer speaking calmly.

“Straight to the operating room,” he said loudly to the nurse. “And call the police. Immediately.”

My legs gave way. When I learned what had happened and what my mother-in-law had done to my child, I was horrified  Continuation in the first comment 

Later, through tears and trembling, they explained what had happened. My mother-in-law had given my three-month-old daughter meat. Real meat.

To a baby who cannot yet chew or swallow such food, whose digestive system is simply not ready for it. The pieces got stuck — in the esophagus and then in the intestines. Acute obstruction began, excruciating pain, and the risk of rupture.

“A little longer,” the doctor said, “and we wouldn’t have made it in time.”

When my mother-in-law found out that the police had been called, she started making excuses:
“I didn’t know… I thought it would be better… That’s how everyone used to feed babies…”

I looked at her and realized: it wasn’t that she “didn’t know.” She decided she knew better than everyone else. Even better than the mother.

My daughter was saved. But those ten minutes will stay with me forever.