The four of them huddled over her, left to right: Zaydeh, Mima, Papa, and Grandma. At first she thought it odd to see them together, but then she realized they’d come to welcome her baby, cone-headed and raw after thirty-six hours of labor. She adjusted her IV and lifted her puffy fingers in a weak wave, and her grandparents waved back, exuding boundless pride. She turned to her baby, pointed to her grandparents, and told him, Look who’s here to see you. The baby opened his eyes and sighed.

At home, her husband at work and her parents in another state, she wept that deep hormonal weep, and her grandparents were there to cool the living room air, to keep dust out of the baby’s nose, and to distract the jealous dog. At first she was shy about nursing the baby in front of them, but she decided it felt natural. Mima and Grandma helped her relax her shoulders into just the right position. The baby nursed vigorously, and a week later, when the pediatrician said he gained back the weight he’d lost in the hospital, they all did a little dance. She wondered when they were going to leave her, but they seemed to have all the time in the world, so she didn’t ask. She loved their company, and she could tell that the baby was starting to look for them in the living room where they wrapped one another in a huddle and threw their heads back with joy.

One afternoon when the baby was two months, his skin became warm and he lost his appetite. On the phone, the pediatrician was nonchalant–he might be reacting to his vaccinations, or perhaps he’d picked up a virus. Her husband was traveling for work, and her grandparents had been visiting less and less, so she wasn’t sure if she should ask them to come back. She wasn’t even sure how she would do that.

Her fear escalated, and she found herself sweaty and uneasy with the baby. Doubt took over and caused her to panic. She yelled what she felt certain of–that she was not equipped to handle motherhood. She placed the baby in his crib and ran a shower. But the water pressure made her feel like she was drowning, so she sat on her bed–wet and unable to recover–not even when she turned on the baby monitor and saw that he was calm, sucking on his fist.

She wandered into the living room and sank into the couch. Before she could give into her tears, they appeared, all four of them, in their huddle. They’d heard her, and they’d come.

Papa got to work cooling the air, and Zaydeh threw shadows on the wall for the dog to chase. Mima and Grandma floated behind her, and with their ethereal touch, dried her hair and soothed her shoulders. Then the four of them drifted into the nursery to tease a smile out of the baby.