Chapter 17 - LILY AT FOUR MONTHSAt four months, Lily smiled at ceiling fans.
Not people.
Fans.
She loved them.
Any room with moving blades turned her into the happiest baby in Virginia.
Her follow-up imaging showed the hemorrhage had resolved.
The skull fracture had healed.
Neurological exams remained normal.
Her pediatrician, Dr. Nina Patel, told me:
“Right now she is developing exactly as expected.”
I cried.
Dr. Patel waited.
“Can I say she’s fine?”
“She is doing very well.”
“That is doctor language.”
“It is.”
“What is mother language?”
Dr. Patel smiled.
“Your daughter looks great.”
That was enough.
We were told to continue routine developmental monitoring.
No special intervention unless concerns appeared.
No guarantee about every future learning issue, because no doctor could responsibly promise that.
But the medical fear finally loosened.
Lily rolled over three days later.
I called Daniel.
Not because I had to.
Because he was her father.
He came over.
We sat on the floor six feet apart while Lily repeatedly failed to roll a second time.
Daniel laughed.
I laughed.
Then Lily spit up on his sweater.
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For ten minutes we were just parents.
It felt almost shocking.
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