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Chapter Text

The ringing of her cell phone woke Juliann from a solid slumber. She groaned, and reaching over both dogs on her bed, grabbed the ringing device and answered with a sleep slurred “hello”.

“This is Social Worker Andrea McLaurin with the Rockford County Department of Health and Human Services Child Protective Services. Is this Juliann Gray?” The voice on the other end asked. It took a few seconds for Juliann to process the person and the question asked.

“This is she. May I ask why you’re calling me at 5:00am on a Wednesday?” She responded, not amused to be woken up in the wee hours of the morning.

“I’m calling in reference to a child named Cairo Josiah Davison. Are you familiar with this child?”

“He’s my godson. Is he okay?”

“There’s been an incident involving his parents. He’s currently at Bright Hall Children’s Hospital emergency room. There are a lot of concerns about his health.”

“Where are his parents? Where are Amelia and Jacob? Why is CPS involved?” Juliann demanded, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Unfortunately, Ms. Amelia Davison has been arrested and the father, Mr. Jacob Royce is dead. Can I ask you when the last time you saw Cairo or spoke to Ms. Davison or Mr. Royce?”

“Umm it’s been about 4, almost 4 and a half months since I saw Cairo. I’ve been worried about him. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Amelia or Jacob.” Juliann’s concern was steadily growing the more the social worker spoke.

“Why were you worried?”

“I was suspicious that Amelia was using again when she and Jacob got back together. I told her the last time I had Cairo that I was worried about her and worried that he had lost weight. She told me she couldn’t afford formula so my mom and I bought her like 6 cans and some groceries. I tried to get ahold of her after that every week and she hasn’t responded. I went by their apartment a couple times but they were apparently evicted. All her mom would tell me was I “needed to mind my own business”. I called in a police report for a welfare check last month but they couldn’t find Amelia or Cairo,” Juliann reported, now awake and feeling her anxiety flood her body.

“And that was about four and a half months ago? How old was Cairo?”

“He was roughly 7 months old. Listen, I don’t mean to be disrespectful but how does this matter? Can I come be with Cairo? Please Ms. McLaurin!” There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Juliann put her feet on the floor and stood up. She felt a sinking pit in her stomach.

“Ms. Davison has suggested you as a placement for Cairo. I know this is the middle of the night but are you open to being a placement for him? We are going to allow you to come stay with Cairo in the hospital regardless of your answer. He’s being admitted to the Pediatric ICU.”

“Yes absolutely. I love that little boy with all my heart,” Juliann blurted.

“After you get here, I am planning to leave so I can file the petition for foster care. The day shift worker will be assigned by 10am and they’ll contact you to set up something called a kinship assessment. We already have a background check completed on you and the new worker will let you know what other documentation they will need from you,” Social worker McLaurin told her. Juliann turned her bedroom light on, ignoring the discontented grunts from the two dogs on the bed.

“I’ll be there in about half an hour. Thank you,” she said, already stripping her pajamas off. The social worker hung up and Juliann called her mom. Unsurprisingly, her mother, Elizabeth, answered. Juliann gave her a brief rundown of the conversation and asked her to come get Echo (a 5 year old Belgian Malinois) and Atlas (an 8 month old German Shepherd) in the morning. Her mom agreed and said she would be there by 6.

The 25 year old threw on a pair of sweatpants, socks, a bra, a tee shirt and a hoodie before letting her dogs into the backyard. She hurriedly brushed her teeth and her hair and threw a few things into a large backpack, remembering at the last second to include something to eat and drink, and let the dogs back in. Echo and Atlas were locked in their respective crates with a chew toy and she was running out the door.

Twenty five minutes after hanging up with the social worker, Juliann parked her car in the visitors parking deck near the main hospital entrance. She took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves and racing heart. She sent a quick text to her boss, letting her know the situation and asking for the rest of the week off.

The sliding glass doors of Bright Hall Children’s Hospital whooshed open as Juliann stepped into the lobby. The fluorescent lights were harsh after the dark drive, and the antiseptic smell hit her immediately. She headed straight for the front desk, clutching her backpack like a lifeline.

“Hi, I’m here to see my godson, Cairo Davison. CPS told me he’s in the Pediatric ICU.”

The receptionist glanced at her computer, then picked up the phone. After a brief conversation, she nodded and gestured toward the elevators.

“Take those up to the third floor. Someone will meet you there.”

Juliann barely nodded before rushing to the elevator, her breath short, heart thudding. The ride felt like it took an hour. When the doors opened on the third floor, a nurse in soft blue scrubs was waiting.

“You’re Juliann Gray?” the nurse asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Come with me.” Her voice was kind, but her eyes were somber.

They walked down a quiet corridor filled with low, rhythmic beeping and the occasional hiss of a ventilator. The nurse stopped at a room near the end of the hall and pushed open the door.
The sight stole the air from Juliann’s lungs.

Cairo looked impossibly small in the hospital bed, dwarfed by wires, tubes, and machines. His skin was ashen, lips slightly cracked. A nasal cannula delivered oxygen, and an IV ran into his tiny arm. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside him. His curly black hair was matted, and there were faint bruises along his temple and cheek.
Juliann’s knees buckled slightly, and she gripped the edge of a nearby chair to keep from collapsing.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, stepping into the room numbly.

“He’s stable right now,” the nurse said quietly.

“But he’s been through a lot. Severe dehydration, malnutrition, some untreated injuries. We’re still waiting on a full report from the pediatric team.”

Juliann moved to the bed and gently took Cairo’s hand, careful not to disturb the IV. His fingers were cold, and she could feel the faint tremble of his pulse.

“I’m here, baby,” she said softly. “You’re not alone. Auntie Jules is right here.”

She sat beside him, unable to stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks. All the fear, guilt, and helplessness she’d been carrying for months now had a face. A tiny, bruised, sleeping face.

“I should’ve tried harder,” she whispered, brushing a curl off his forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

The nurse placed a box of tissues on the table beside her and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Juliann didn’t feel lucky. She felt shattered.
But she would hold herself together for him.

Juliann didn’t know how long she sat there, holding Cairo’s fragile hand against her chest, her tears soaking into his hospital gown. The machines kept beeping—steady but impersonal—reminding her that Cairo’s fight for life was still on someone else’s terms.

A quiet knock at the door pulled her from her haze. A tall woman in a white coat stepped in, clutching a clipboard. Her face was calm, but her eyes carried the weight of bad news.
“Ms. Gray?” she asked gently.

Juliann nodded, brushing at her face with her sleeve. “Yes.”

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m one of the attending physicians in the Pediatric ICU. Can we talk for a few minutes?”

Juliann shifted, placing Cairo’s hand gently on the bed, careful of the tubes, then stood, wiping her hands on her hoodie. “Yes, please. I need to know everything.”

Dr. Moreno stepped closer, glancing at the monitors, then back at Juliann.

“Cairo’s stable, but he’s in critical condition. He came in with severe dehydration and signs of prolonged malnutrition. He also has multiple untreated injuries—some healed improperly, some recent. Bruising around his ribs and abdomen, a fractured wrist that had not been set, and healing abrasions consistent with neglect. We’re doing everything we can.”

Juliann covered her mouth as another wave of tears hit.

“He’s only a baby,” she whispered. Dr. Moreno’s voice softened.

“I know. He’s tough, though. He’s responding to fluids and nutrition, and we’ve started him on pain management and antibiotics. Our trauma team and social services are both involved, and he’ll be closely monitored over the next several days.”

Juliann nodded, trying to process each word, but they all blurred together.

“I... I should have pushed harder. I should’ve done more.”

“You did what you could,” Dr. Moreno said.

The door creaked open again, and her mother peeked in. “Jules?”

Juliann turned, her composure crumbling. She hadn’t expected her mom to show up so soon.

“Mom.” Her voice cracked. Tears blurred her vision and she could faintly remember the doctor leaving the room.

Elizabeth hurried across the room and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Juliann sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, letting everything she had bottled up spill out.

“He’s so small. And broken. And I don’t know how he’s even still here.”

Elizabeth held her tighter.

“He’s still here because he’s strong. And because you didn’t give up.”

After a few moments, Juliann pulled away, sniffling. “They said he was starved, Mom. His little bones…” She paused to catch her breath. “They think they broke his wrist and just left it.”

Elizabeth’s eyes welled up. “Then he needs you now more than ever.”

A knock on the already open door interrupted them. A woman in business casual attire stepped in with a blue backpack, clipboard decorated with stickers, and a sympathetic expression.

“Hi, Ms. Gray. I’m Tanisha Marks, the day shift worker from CPS assigned to this case. Andrea McLaurin briefed me. I wanted to check in and schedule a time to meet at your home today so we can begin your kinship assessment.”

Juliann straightened up, wiping her face. “Yes, absolutely. When?”

“Would noon work? I’ll just need access to your home, check out the sleeping arrangements for Cairo, and gather basic documents.”

“I’ll be there,” Juliann said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

Tanisha smiled gently.

“You’re doing great, Ms. Gray. Hang in there.” She spent several moments with Cairo, taking various pictures of him from different angles quietly before turning to leave.

As the door shut behind her, Juliann turned back to her godson, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere, little man. Not now, not ever.” Cairo shifted slightly in his sleep while Juliann and her mother looked on. The time passed slowly. Cairo remained asleep and nurses flittered in and out of the room. Juliann stayed near his crib, holding his tiny hand. Around 11, Elizabeth sent Juliann home to get ready for the social worker.

Juliann arrived home just a few minutes before noon, the weight of the morning still pressing heavily on her chest. The house was quieter than usual—too quiet. Without the jingling of Echo’s tags or the click of Atlas’s oversized paws on the hardwood floors, everything felt still and unnatural.

She dropped her bag by the door, put her water bottle in the kitchen and braced her arms on the counter. She took in a deep breath, trying to simultaneously wake up and calm her body down from the anxiety she was feeling.

The knock at the door came right on time.
Juliann opened it to find Tanisha Marks standing there with a clipboard, her bookbag slung over one shoulder, and a calm, professional smile on her face.

“Hi again, Ms. Gray. Thanks for letting me stop by today.”

“Of course, come on in,” Juliann said, stepping aside. “The house is quieter than normal. My dogs are staying with my parents until things calm down.”

“Probably a smart move—less chaos for now.” Tanisha nodded as she stepped inside.

Juliann led her through the living room, which was modest but clean. The soft gray sectional with cozy blankets, TV stand, and bookshelves full of pictures gave it a warm, lived-in feel. A few toys and baby supplies still sat in a basket near the fireplace, a quiet echo of Cairo’s last visit months ago. Pictures of him decorated the wall in the hall from his first week of life until his 8th month.

“I’ve lived here for about three years,” Juliann said. “My mortgage is $1500 a month.”

“That’s great,” Tanisha replied, jotting notes on her home study form. “Home stability is a strong factor for placement.”

Tanisha moved through the house methodically, snapping photos of each room: the kitchen, the hall bathroom, and the garage. When they reached the backyard, she noted the fully fenced yard with a nod of approval.

“My dogs usually have free run out here—Echo’s five, and Atlas is still a baby, just eight months,” Juliann explained. “They’re both vaccinated, crate-trained, and good with kids. I can send over the vet records if you need them.”

“Perfect. I’ll make you get my card with all of my information on it before I leave,” Tanisha said, making a note in her paperwork.

They paused in the hallway outside the bedrooms.

“This is my room,” Juliann said, opening the door. The room was neat, a sign Elizabeth had tidied up when she picked the dogs up. The adjustable king size bed was made with a blue comforter. The rocker/recliner in the corner held another cozy looking blanket and the TV was turned off.

“When Cairo stayed with me before, we co-slept most of the time. He does have a crib in one of the other rooms along with a dresser. I ordered him some new clothes earlier. I had given his parents what I had the last time I saw him,” Juliann admitted, brushing a hand over the fuzzy green blanket on her chair.

Tanisha looked around the room and nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, for safety, we need him to have a dedicated sleep space. That could be the crib or a pack and play set up in here,” she stated as she took a few photos of the room and bathroom. Juliann showed her the baby bath products under the sink.

She gestured toward the second and third bedrooms. One held the dog crates, a desk, computer, and a treadmill; the other held Cairo’s rarely used crib and his dresser. There was another rocking chair and some toys on the floor.

“This looks like a good set up for Cairo,” Tanisha said approvingly, looking at the sign with his name on the wall and the infant carseat in the corner.

“I want him to feel like this is his home,” Juliann replied softly.

Tanisha smiled. “That’s the goal.”

Back in the kitchen, Juliann pulled out a folder she used to keep all her important documents organized. Inside were copies of her driver’s license, vehicle registration, insurance documents, and homeowner’s insurance. She also included a copy of her last few paystubs.

Tanisha looked them over and nodded. She spent a few minutes open the cupboards, checking the eyes on the stove, turning the water on, and examining the contents of the fridge. She explained the need to check that all utilities were in working order, that there was food in the home, and no evidence of substances.

“Everything looks good. I’ll scan and submit these today. One more thing—do you think you’ll need daycare once Cairo is discharged?”

“Eventually, yes. I work full-time from home, but I’m planning to take some leave at first. Once he’s stable, I’ll definitely need childcare support. I know my mom would be able to help if needed,” Juliann replied.

“We can definitely help with that. You’ll need to identify a daycare that is 3 stars or better that takes a childcare voucher. We pay the monthly fee but you’ll need to pay the enrollment fee. It can take around 30 days for that to be approved so I will get that submitted once you’ve identified the daycare,” Tanisha responded with a smile.

She looked up from her clipboard and offered Juliann a warm, sincere smile. “I am very impressed with your efficiency and organization Today’s visit will go a long way toward getting placement approved—hopefully by tomorrow. I just need to staff this with my supervisor and the foster care worker.”

“Thank you,” Juliann said, exhaling slowly.

Tanisha stood and gathered her things.

“I’ll check in tomorrow after court. And if you need anything in the meantime—supplies, support, even just someone to call—don’t hesitate.”

After the door closed behind her, Juliann stood in the quiet of her kitchen for a long moment. The silence didn’t feel so heavy this time—it felt like a breath before the next step.

As soon as Tanisha’s car pulled away from the curb, Juliann collapsed onto the couch, pulling her phone into her lap. She stared at the screen for a moment, unsure if she wanted to talk to anyone—then decided she didn’t need to talk. A few texts would do.
“Home visit done. Everything went well. Will know more tomorrow.”

Seconds later, her mom responded.
Mom (Elizabeth):
Thank God. House was spotless. You did great. Cairo is lucky to have you. I’ll wait until you get here before I leave.

Dad (James):
Proud of you, Jules. Keep your chin up. Let me know if you need help with anything.

Joshy:
You’re seriously the toughest person I know. Let me know if you want me to drop off meals or run errands this week.

Hunter:
Do you need money for anything? Clothes, diapers, formula? I can Venmo right now.

Wesley:
Let me know when Cairo’s home. Jessa’s going to get the dogs from the house tonight.

Juliann smiled faintly, her throat tightening with emotion. She replied:

Juliann:
Love you all. I’m okay right now. Thanks, mom, for picking up for me!

She put her phone down, stood up, and stretched. There was still so much to do. She headed to the bathroom and peeled off her hoodie and leggings, stepping under the warm stream of the shower. For a moment, it was just her and the water, washing away the hospital smell, the fear, and the long hours of tension. She quickly washed and brushed her teeth before stepping out of the shower.

After drying off and pulling her hair into a loose braid, she slipped into fresh track pants and a soft, oversized t-shirt. She added a zip-up hoodie, then walked into the kitchen.

She packed a small bag: two granola bars, a banana, a bottle of water, and a small container of pasta she could heat in the hospital family lounge. She double-checked her backpack—laptop, charger, chapstick, notebook, wallet, tissues—then slung it over her shoulder. She added her favorite Sparkling Ice energy drinks to the side pocket and filled her water bottle with fresh ice and water. After a moment’s thought, she grabbed Cairo’s favorite stuffed giraffe, his favorite blanket, and a large blanket for her to use.

By 2:00pm, she was back in the car and headed to the hospital. She stopped and got a sandwich on the way, downing a Dr. Pepper with her lunch. She got a cup of coffee for her mom to say thank you for all her help and was back at the hospital by 2:45pm.

The soft beep of machines and the steady whoosh of air filled the dim PICU room as Juliann quietly pushed open the door. Cairo’s small form was now nestled under a hospital blanket, monitors covering far too much of his fragile body. The sight made her chest ache all over again.

Elizabeth looked up from the bedside chair and gave a weary smile. Her hand rested gently on Cairo’s blanket covered leg.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered. Juliann handed her the coffee and stood at the foot of the bed.

“Hey. You okay?” she asked, setting her bag down and taking a deep breath.

Her mom stood and gently brushed her hand over Juliann’s arm.

“I’m okay. He’s been stable. His nurse, Sasha, came in once to adjust something, but otherwise he’s just been sleeping.” Her voice cracked slightly. “It’s hard to look at him like this. I’m so used to seeing him being active and happy.”

Juliann wrapped her arms around her mom tightly. “Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth kissed her temple. “Call me if anything changes, okay? Wesley said he would bring your packages in later today if they’re there when he picks the dogs up.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Her mom gave one more kiss to Cairo’s forehead and slipped out quietly, leaving Juliann alone in the soft hum of the hospital room. She settled into the chair next to Cairo’s bed and gently took his hand in hers, careful not to jostle any of the delicate tubing. Her heart ached as she studied his face—too ashen, too still.

A few minutes later, a quiet knock broke the silence, and Dr. Ana Moreno stepped into the room, her white coat slightly rumpled from a long shift but her demeanor calm and warm.

“Hi again, Ms. Gray,” she said, offering a small smile. “I figured I’d stop back now that you’re settled. Thought we could talk a little more in-depth.”

Juliann nodded. “Yes, thank you. I was hoping you’d come back by.”

Dr. Moreno pulled up a chair beside her.

“So, like I mentioned earlier this morning—Cairo is stable. His vitals have remained consistent throughout the day, and the fluids and nutrition we’ve started are beginning to help. But I want to be honest with you about what we’re seeing.”

Juliann braced herself and tried to quell the mounting anxiety.

“He’s showing signs of prolonged malnutrition. His weight is well below the 5th percentile, and there are indicators of muscle wasting and anemia. The concern now is what impact this might have had on his development—especially cognitive and motor milestones.” Dr. Moreno’s voice was measured but kind.

“Can it be reversed?” Juliann felt a lump settle in her throat.

“To a degree, yes. Young children are incredibly resilient, but it will take time, early intervention, and close monitoring. He may need therapies—speech, occupational, possibly physical. And there may be challenges. But the earlier we start, the better his chances.”

Juliann nodded, wiping at her face with the tissues from her bag.

“Whatever he needs, I’ll do it. I just want him to have a healthy future.”

“He’s already ahead,” Dr. Moreno said gently.

“He has someone who loves him and is fighting for him. That’s more than a lot of kids have.” There was a beat of quiet.

“Would you like to hold him?” Dr. Moreno offered. “It helps. We encourage it. Talk to him, let him hear your voice. It can make a bigger difference than you think.”

“Yes,” Juliann whispered, already rising. Dr. Moreno instructed her to sit down in the reclining chair in the room. A nurse, presumably Sasha, came in to help, carefully guiding Cairo into Juliann’s arms, adjusting wires and positioning monitors as Juliann settled into the recliner.

He was light. Too light. But the warmth of his little body against hers made her chest tighten in the best and worst way. The nurse handed her the blanket from home and draped it over them.

She tucked the blanket around them both and cradled him close. Her lips brushed the top of his head.

“You’re safe now, Cairo,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Juliann shifted slightly in the recliner, her arms wrapped protectively around Cairo’s tiny frame. His head rested against her chest, his breathing shallow but even. The quiet hum of machines filled the room, broken only by the occasional click of monitors and the soft rustle of fabric.

Dr. Moreno and the nurse stood a few feet away, finishing their charting and preparing to give her and Cairo some quiet time—when suddenly, Juliann felt a slight movement against her. She glanced down. Cairo’s fingers twitched. His body shifted the smallest bit against hers.

“Doctor,” she whispered urgently. “I think he’s moving.”

Dr. Moreno was at her side in seconds, her hand gentle on Cairo’s back as she leaned in to assess. The nurse dimmed the lights even further and moved to the monitors, watching the subtle changes in vitals. His heartbeat seemed to calm significantly the longer he was held.

Cairo let out the faintest sigh, followed by a broken, wheezy sound that might’ve been a whimper—or the beginning of a cry. His small hand clutched at Juliann’s blanket.

“It’s okay, handsome,” Juliann murmured, her heart racing. “I’m here. It’s me. You’re safe now.”

His eyelids fluttered, struggling under the weight of exhaustion and sedation. But there was something there—some flicker of recognition that made Juliann tighten her hold just a little. He turned into her, almost pressing his nose into her shirt and inhaling.

“It’s common for children to take time waking up fully after this kind of trauma and treatment,” Dr. Moreno said softly, kneeling down to Cairo’s level. “Let’s see…”

She gently pulled back Cairo’s blanket, listening with her stethoscope, then peeled open one of his eyelids with practiced care. “Pupils are reactive… breathing’s still shallow, but he’s trying. This is a good sign.”

And then it happened. With great effort, Cairo blinked—once, twice—and his eyes finally opened.

Dark brown. Deep and soulful. Still groggy and unfocused, but unmistakably alert.

He looked up at Juliann.

She gasped, emotion catching in her throat as her blue eyes locked with his.

“There you are,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Hi, handsome. Hello.” She used one hand to cradle his face gently, mindful of the oxygen and bruising.

Cairo’s lips parted slightly. No words, no sound—but his eyes didn’t leave hers. The doctor stood, motioning for the nurse to step back and give them space.

“This is an excellent sign. Let him stay with you. Keep talking to him. That connection—it matters.”

Juliann nodded without looking away from Cairo. Her palm gently rubbed his back, and she pressed a kiss to his temple.

And in that quiet room, lit only by soft monitors and a motherly love stronger than fear, Cairo blinked slowly again… and didn’t look away.

A gentle knock on the door preceded Nurse Sasha’s quiet entrance. She offered a warm smile as she carried a small, warmed bottle in one hand, the label marked with Cairo’s name and a timestamp.

“Hey, Juliann,” she said softly. “Let’s try a little feeding, if he’s up for it. Just a few milliliters to start. We’ll go slow.”

Juliann adjusted Cairo slightly in her arms as Sasha approached, settling him more upright and brushing his curls back from his forehead. He was still weak, eyes half-lidded, but alert enough now to track movement—and to let out a soft, raspy whine at the scent of the bottle.

“Okay, handsome,” Juliann whispered. “Let’s see if you can handle this, hmm?”

Sasha handed her the bottle and stood close, watching carefully. Juliann careful ran the nipple of the bottle over his cheek and watched him turn to it, opening his mouth and latching. His suckling was uncoordinated. After a few shallow pulls, he coughed, sputtering, the formula dribbling down his chin. Juliann hurriedly removed the bottle.

“Easy, baby. Easy.” Juliann reached for the towel and dabbed at his mouth. Her eyes flicked up to Sasha, worried. “Is that normal?”

“It can be,” Sasha replied kindly. “After what he’s been through, his muscles are weak and he may have lost some oral reflex coordination. We’ll go slow, let speech and nutrition evaluate him. For now, just a few sips is good. We’ll try again later.”

Juliann nodded, rocking him gently as Cairo whimpered in frustration and tucked his face into her chest. She held him close, heart aching.

“He’s trying,” she whispered, kissing the top of his head. Sasha agreed and they tried once more with the bottle. He was able to drink two ounces in total but it was clear he was struggling. Sasha took the bottle with her and left the two in the recliner.

Several hours passed with Cairo drifting in and out of sleep. Juliann sat quietly in the recliner, her arms gently wrapped around Cairo, who was dozing again after another small feeding attempt. The soft beeping of the monitors had become background noise. She was just beginning to nod off when her phone buzzed on the tray table beside her.

She reached for it, blinking at the screen.

Text from Tanisha (CPS):
Hi Juliann, just wanted to let you know the Department has officially approved your home study for temporary placement.
The initial nonsecure custody hearing is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM. It’ll be remote via WebEx. I’ll send the link first thing and be on the call with you to help answer questions. Please try to get a little rest tonight if you can—you’re doing great.

Juliann stared at the message, feeling a wave of emotion rush over her. Relief, fear, gratitude, exhaustion. She looked down at Cairo sleeping in her lap, his small face relaxed for once, and gently kissed his forehead.

Then she typed back:

Juliann:
Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be ready.

Chapter Text

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed without much change. Every few hours, Juliann tried feeding Cairo but he spent most of the time sleeping. Just before visiting hours ended, Elizabeth brought a bag filled with clothes and food.

The soft, gray light of early morning filtered through the hospital window blinds, casting long shadows across the PICU floor. The wall clock ticked steadily, each second bringing Juliann closer to the hearing that would determine whether Cairo could stay with her.

She sat curled in the recliner, still wearing yesterday’s hoodie and sweatpants, cradling Cairo against her chest. He’d slept through most of the night, waking only once to fuss quietly before dozing off again after a few half-hearted sips from his bottle provided by Anna, the nurse that night.

She hadn’t slept much. Her nerves had kept her half-alert, her brain running in circles around all the what-ifs: What if the judge didn’t approve the placement? What if someone objected? What if they thought she wasn’t ready?

At 8:01 AM, her phone buzzed again.

Text from Tanisha (CPS):
Good morning, Juliann. Here’s the WebEx link for the 9:00 AM custody hearing. You’ll log in as a participant. I’ll be on with you, and the Guardian ad Litem will also attend. It should be brief, but important. Let me know if you need help setting it up.

Juliann stared at the message, her stomach clenching. She took a deep breath and responded.

Juliann:
Got it. I’ll log on a few minutes early. Thank you for everything.

She looked down at Cairo, who stirred slightly and blinked in slow motion, still too drowsy to fully wake. She gently adjusted the blanket tucked around him and kissed the top of his head.

“You stay snuggled right here,” she whispered. “I’m going to fight for you. Just like I promised.” Juliann stood and carefully placed the baby back in his crib and stretched, grabbing her laptop and the charger

Nurse Sasha stepped in just before 8:30 with a warm smile and a second cup of coffee. “You all set?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Juliann said, accepting the drink gratefully.

“There’s a small visitor room at the end of the hall where you can have some privacy for the hearing,” Sasha offered. Juliann thankfully accepted and rapidly braided her hair and took her hoodie off.

By 8:50, Juliann sat in a small private room down the hall, sipping her coffee as her laptop connected to the WebEx meeting. Her heart thudded as the screen blinked to life—showing the courtroom emblem, a few dark video boxes, and a notification that the host would start the session shortly.

At exactly 9:00 AM, the WebEx meeting flickered to life. The virtual courtroom appeared in tiled boxes across Juliann’s laptop screen—an official seal in the upper left, and several dark-suited participants joining one by one. Names popped up beneath each video feed as the clerk began roll call.

A middle-aged woman with dark-framed glasses and a calm voice took center screen. “This is Judge Naila Patel. We are now in session for the Rockford County District Court Juvenile Docket. We’ll begin with case number J-25-0341: In the Matter of Cairo Josiah Davison, a minor child.”

The judge continued, “Parties, please identify yourselves for the record.”

Each person responded in turn:

“Tanisha Marks, Child Protective Services Investigator, Rockford County DHHS.”

“Marie Tran, Assistant County Attorney, appearing on behalf of the Department.”

“Kelsey Madden, Foster Care Supervisor, DHHS.”

“Jordan Ayers, Guardian ad Litem attorney advocate for the minor child, Cairo Davison.”

“Angela Martin, attorney for Ms. Amelia Davison, mother of the minor child.”

Juliann swallowed as another face appeared—Amelia. She looked tired. Shaken. Her video was dim, and her eyes avoided the camera. Her attorney kept a steady hand on her shoulder, occasionally whispering something to her just off screen.

Then it was her turn.

“Juliann Gray, godmother to Cairo Davison. Proposed kinship placement.”

The judge gave a small nod, her voice measured. “Thank you. We are here today for a nonsecure custody hearing regarding Cairo Davison, following an emergency petition for removal filed yesterday by the Department. Ms. Tran, please summarize the basis of the petition.”

The County Attorney began, “Yes, Your Honor. The Department received a report late Tuesday evening regarding suspected child neglect and domestic violence resulting in serious injury and hospitalization of the minor child. The child’s father, Mr. Jacob Royce, is deceased due to an alleged altercation with the mother. The mother, Ms. Amelia Davison, was arrested at the scene and faces multiple charges, including felony child neglect, child abuse, manslaughter, and possession of a controlled substance.”

Amelia’s face twitched, her eyes still lowered.

“The child was transported to Bright Hall Children’s Hospital in critical condition, showing signs of severe malnutrition, dehydration, and broken bones. The Department has determined that it is unsafe for the minor to return to the mother’s custody at this time.”

Judge Patel nodded, tapping a pen against her notepad. “And the Department is recommending placement with Ms. Gray?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Tanisha said, leaning into her webcam. “We completed a home study yesterday afternoon and received formal approval last night. Ms. Gray has been a consistent figure in the child’s life, has a safe and appropriate home environment, and is already staying with the minor at the hospital. We are recommending placement be granted to her pending further court review.”

The judge turned to the Guardian ad Litem. “Mr. Ayers?”

“I’ve reviewed the Department’s petition and initial hospital reports. I support placement with Ms. Gray, with continued oversight and nonsecure custody from the department, and regular follow-up evaluations. The child’s needs are significant. Stability and familiarity are vital.”

Judge Patel gave a slight nod again, then looked toward the final screen. “Ms. Martin, your client is present. Does she wish to be heard?”

Amelia’s attorney leaned forward. “Yes, Your Honor. My client, Ms. Davison, understands the seriousness of the situation. At this time, she believes it is in her son’s best interest to be placed with Ms. Gray. She supports the Department’s recommendation for fictive kinship placement and does not contest today’s hearing.”

Judge Patel paused to take notes. For a moment, the virtual courtroom was quiet. Judge Patel reviewed the petition and kinship study. She adjusted her glasses and looked directly into the camera after several moments.

“Thank you all for your patience. After reviewing the Department’s petition, accompanying documentation, and hearing no objections, the court is ready to issue its ruling in the matter of Cairo Josiah Davison.”

Juliann held her breath.

“The court finds that there are sufficient legal grounds to continue nonsecure custody of the minor child with the Department of Health and Human Services, with physical placement to be made with Ms. Juliann Gray as a kinship caregiver.”

Juliann couldn’t move. Her chest felt tight, as if the air in the room had thickened.

“This placement is found to be in the best interest of the child, given the current medical needs, established emotional bond, and the stability of Ms. Gray’s home. The Department shall retain legal custody pending further review.”

Tanisha gave a quiet, supportive smile from her tile on the screen.

Judge Patel continued, “The court orders the Department to coordinate ongoing services, including medical follow-up, nutritional planning, and developmental evaluations. Ms. Gray, you will be expected to comply with any case planning, including maintaining safe sleep practices and notifying the Department of any significant changes in your household.

“Given the biological mother, Ms. Amelia Davison, is currently incarcerated, in-person visitation is suspended until such time as the Department and the facility determine it is safe and appropriate. In lieu of direct contact, the Department shall ensure that weekly written updates, including photos and progress summaries, are provided to the biological mother by email or through her attorney.” Judge Patel’s tone remained firm but compassionate. “

“An adjudication hearing will be scheduled within 60 days. In the meantime, Ms. Gray is authorized to make day-to-day decisions for the minor, in consultation with the Department.”

She turned slightly toward the clerk. “Please make sure the official order is filed by the end of the day. That concludes this matter. Thank you all.”

With a click, the judge’s screen disappeared. The other participants began logging off one by one until the screen was black. Juliann’s phone rang with a FaceTime notification from Tanisha.

Tanisha offered a soft smile. “You did great. The order will be sent to the hospital today. You’re officially Cairo’s temporary caregiver now. I’ll stop by this afternoon with the foster care social worker to go over discharge planning and get you anything else you need.”

Juliann swallowed the emotion caught in her throat. “Thank you, Tanisha. Really.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Tanisha said warmly, and then her screen vanished.

The hallway was quiet as Juliann made her way back to Cairo’s room. The squeak of her sneakers on the tile echoed softly in the early morning lull of the Pediatric ICU. She passed a nurse pushing a med cart and gave a tired, polite smile. When she stepped inside, the gentle beep of monitors greeted her. Cairo was still asleep, tucked securely in his crib beneath a new pale blue blanket. The stuffed giraffe Juliann had brought the night before sat near his feet, one ear bent awkwardly.

She crossed the room quietly, placing her laptop bag on the chair beside the crib and taking a long drink of water. For a moment, she just stood there, watching him breathe.

Then she pulled out her phone.

Group Chat: Family
Juliann: Hey. Just got out of the hearing. It’s official—Cairo is placed with me. The judge granted nonsecure custody. I’ll be his foster placement while the case moves forward.

Three dots appeared, bouncing.

Elizabeth (Mom): Praise God. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.

Joshua: That little guy is lucky to have you. Let us know if you need help with anything.

Hunter: Is he still in the hospital? How’s he doing today?

Wesley: Want me to help with setting up his room again? I can bring over that changing table from the garage.

Juliann’s lips curled into a soft, tired smile. She sank into the recliner and tucked one leg underneath her, still watching Cairo sleep.

Juliann: He’s still in the PICU. They’re keeping a close eye on hydration and nutrition. He woke up briefly earlier. I’ll send a picture later. Just wanted you all to know he’s officially with me now.

She hesitated for a moment, then typed again:

Juliann: Actually—can one of you come sit with him later this morning for like two hours? I want to run home, shower, and change clothes. Just need someone here while I’m gone.

Joshua: I can come by around 1 if that works?

Juliann: That’s perfect. Thank you.

A pause, then another bubble popped up.

Wesley: And the changing table?

Juliann: Yes please. I’ll need it. You’re the best.

Elizabeth: I’ll bring over a few more things from the house when I drop Atlas and Echo off at daycare. Don’t stress about anything, okay? Just focus on Cairo.

Juliann: Thanks, Mom. I love you.

She set the phone down, took a breath, and leaned forward, brushing her fingers lightly across Cairo’s cheek.

“You’ve got a whole army behind you now,” she whispered to him, snapping a few pictures to send to her family. She settled down in the chair, content to snuggle her godson and scroll through her phone.

Time passed quickly and soon the afternoon sun filtered through the PICU windows, painting soft, slanted lines across Cairo’s crib. He had been more alert throughout the morning—blinking drowsily, tracking the lights, even sucking from a bottle with a little less struggle. Nurse Sasha had called it progress. Speech had stopped by midmorning to evaluate his swallowing, and while he tired quickly, they were cautiously optimistic.

Now, just as Cairo had finally drifted into another nap, there was a gentle knock at the door.
Juliann turned to see her older brother Joshua step inside, his tall, muscular frame filling the doorway. He held a to-go coffee in one hand and a canvas tote slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Is he asleep?”

Juliann nodded. “Yeah. He finally settled about five minutes ago. He’s been more awake today. They’re keeping his feeds slow, but he’s making progress.”

Joshua walked over to the crib and peered down at the sleeping baby. “He looks better than I expected, honestly.”

“Still has a long way to go,” Juliann said. “But yeah… better.”

She stood, grabbed her hoodie off the chair, and stretched.

“Thank you for coming. I’m gonna run home, shower, and grab some food. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”

Joshua nodded and took her place in the chair.

“Take your time. I’ve got him.” He pulled a few files out of his bag and sipped his coffee while Juliann gathered her bags and headed to the parking garage.

By the time she pulled into her driveway, the quiet of her neighborhood felt surreal. She stepped out of the car and noticed the trash bins had been rolled back, her front porch had been swept. Inside, the house smelled faintly of lavender cleaner and laundry detergent.

She paused in the entryway, stunned. The floors had been vacuumed, the clutter from the kitchen counters cleared. Her mom’s touch was everywhere—dishes done, blankets folded, even a load of clothes running through the dryer. She made a mental note to thank her mom profusely.

When she walked down the hall toward the bedrooms, she stopped at Cairo’s room. The crib had been moved aside to make room for the changing table—cleaned, stocked, and ready. Fresh wipes, diapers, and a little stuffed lion sat in a basket on top. On the wall above, someone had hung a soft gray blanket over a decorative hook. The crib itself sported brand new green sheets with little animals on them and looked like it had been wiped down.

In her own room, a brand-new gray pack-and-play stood beside the bed, already assembled with dark blue sheets, perfect for those first few nights. On her King size bed lay a large gift basket filled with neatly folded and already washed baby clothes, size 9–12 months and 12-18 months.

Juliann sank onto the edge of the bed, the weight of everything finally landing squarely in her chest. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to cry—not out of fear or anxiety, but gratitude. She wiped her eyes quickly, stood up, and made her way to the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

The afternoon light had shifted by the time Juliann stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a clean towel. Her body felt lighter, the steam having washed away some of the weight pressing on her shoulders since the phone call that changed everything.

She moved quietly through the house, towel-drying her hair as she walked into Cairo’s room. The changing table looked even more real now that it had diapers stacked neatly beside it. She opened a dresser drawer and began packing a small bag with essentials: four soft onesies, a couple of warm footed sleepers, and a tiny hoodie. She added a favorite stuffed sloth, a rattle, and two teething rings.

In the hall bathroom, she grabbed baby wash, a soft towel, and the new infant brush and nail clippers she’d picked up last month when she’d thought, briefly, that maybe Amelia would let her visit again. The items felt different now—no longer a distant hope, but something needed, something hers to use.

She made her way back to her room, hanging her towels up and getting dressed quickly. She opted for a quick bun for her wet hair and clothing comfortable for the early October weather.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Josh: Look who’s getting his superhero armor and who came off oxygen!

Attached was a photo. Cairo sat propped against a pillow in the hospital crib, his little wrist wrapped in a tiny blue cast. A nurse knelt beside him, smiling, and Cairo looked straight at the camera—drowsy but awake, his eyes slightly unfocused, his mouth open in what might’ve been the beginning of a cry or a yawn.

Juliann’s heart clenched. She sat on the edge of the bed and zoomed in on the photo, studying the shape of his face, the way his curls fell against his forehead. Even hurt, even small, he looked so brave.

Juliann (texting back): My little fighter. Thank you for being with him. I’ll be there soon.

She added the last few things to the bag, zipped it shut, and placed it by the front door. Before leaving, she stepped into her bedroom and gently smoothed the blanket inside the new pack-and-play. It smelled clean, like her mom had washed it before bringing it over. She took a deep breath and turned around to head back to the hospital.

Juliann stepped out of the elevator and made her way down the familiar hallway toward Cairo’s room, the diaper bag slung over one shoulder and the soft rattle toy in her other hand. Her pace quickened when she saw two women standing just outside the door—Tanisha, the CPS worker she’d first spoken to, and another woman she didn’t recognize.

Josh was inside with Cairo, gently rocking the crib slightly with his foot while scrolling through his phone. He looked up when Juliann entered.

“Perfect timing,” he said. “He’s still napping. He fussed a bit after the cast, but he settled once I held him a while.” He gave her a quick hug. “You got this. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks again, Josh. Seriously,” she whispered.
As he slipped out of the room, Tanisha and the other woman stepped in. The new woman smiled warmly and introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Morgan Langley—I’m with the Rockford County foster care unit. I’ll be your assigned worker for the duration of Cairo’s placement.”

Juliann nodded and motioned to the two chairs near the crib. “Come on in.”

Morgan opened a thin manila folder and pulled out a few papers.

“This is your Verification of Custody letter,” she said, handing Juliann a copy. “It confirms that Cairo Josiah Davison is in the legal custody of Rockford County Department of Social Services and that he’s been placed in kinship foster care with you.”

Juliann took the paper carefully, her eyes scanning the formal wording as a strange weight settled in her chest—equal parts solemnity and fierce protectiveness.

“There’s also a copy in here for his medical records, so staff know you’re authorized to make some decisions for him,” Morgan added.

Tanisha leaned forward. “We know this has moved quickly, so we’re going to go over the immediate expectations, and I’ll help you coordinate anything that comes up this week. First, Cairo will have a required medical exam with a pediatrician within seven days of placement. He will then need to be seen every 3 months. Second, he will need a dentist.”

“We’ll be checking in regularly,” Morgan continued. “At least once a month in person, plus calls or emails as needed. If anything urgent happens—like a medical emergency—you call me, or the after-hours line. You’re not alone in this.”

Tanisha added, “You’ll also get a court notice each time a review hearing is coming up. The goal is transparency. Amelia has expressed not wanting reunification for now, and the case plan is being adjusted accordingly.”

Juliann glanced at Cairo, still asleep in his crib, his little hand resting on his chest, the edge of his blue cast peeking out from under the blanket.
“I just want to do right by him,” she said softly.
Morgan smiled. “You already are.”

Chapter Text

A few hours later, Cairo whimpered softly in his sleep, his body restless under the pale blue blanket. Juliann, who had just settled into the recliner next to the crib with a snack from the vending machine, was on her feet in an instant.
She leaned over him, brushing her fingers lightly across his forehead. He felt warm—warmer than he had earlier.

A soft chime alerted the nurse’s station as Cairo’s monitors beeped a subtle warning. Within moments, Nurse Sasha entered the room, her face calm but alert.

“I was just about to come check his vitals,” Sasha said gently. “Looks like his temp’s climbing a little—he’s running a fever.”

Juliann’s stomach tightened. “Is it an infection? Or something else?”

“It’s probably an issue with nutrition. Sometimes kids with prolonged malnutrition have unpredictable reactions when their bodies start processing more calories and hydration. It’s not unusual.”

Still, her voice was reassuring. She adjusted Cairo’s IV slightly and noted something on the chart.

Dr. Moreno arrived shortly after, her expression measured but concerned.

“He’s showing signs of what we call refeeding syndrome,” she explained. “It happens when a child who’s been undernourished begins to get adequate nutrition again—the body has to recalibrate. His electrolytes are a bit out of balance, and that can lead to things like low-grade fever, swelling, or gastrointestinal upset.”

Juliann nodded slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the crib.

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s manageable,” Dr. Moreno replied. “We’ve already adjusted his IV fluids and added a few electrolytes to stabilize things. The fever is mild for now, and we’re watching him closely. He may need to stay a bit longer than expected.”

Juliann exhaled shakily, pressing her knuckles to her lips.

“So what does discharge look like now?” she asked.

Dr. Moreno gave her a small, kind smile. “Once his electrolytes stabilize, and we’re confident he can take in nutrition orally without setbacks, we’ll begin planning for discharge. That includes daily weight checks, a nutritionist’s care plan, and a pediatric follow-up within forty-eight hours of release. He may also need physical therapy and developmental services.”
Juliann swallowed the lump in her throat. Dr. Moreno reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, Juliann. He’s lucky to have you.”

As Cairo stirred again, his face flushed and his brow furrowed, Juliann lowered the side rail of the crib and reached for him. His fevered skin pressed warm into her hoodie, his little breath soft and shallow against her collarbone. He was still sleeping, but unsettled—twitching now and then, his face drawn even in rest. She adjusted the blanket around him and rested her cheek lightly against the top of his head.

The room was quiet again, save for the soft rhythmic beeping from the monitors, the hiss of the oxygen, and the occasional murmur of nurses in the hallway. Juliann’s phone buzzed in her sweatshirt pocket; another check-in text from her mom. She typed a quick update:

Juliann:
Still a little feverish. They’re adjusting fluids. Dr. Moreno thinks it’s manageable.

Elizabeth:
You’re doing amazing. Let me know if you need anything from Target.

Juliann:
Can you bring me a couple energy drinks? Otherwise, I’m not sure when Cai is going to be discharged. I am working on delivery orders for what we will need.

Elizabeth responded in the affirmative and Juliann opened a new web browser. The message from her mother had reminder her she needed a few things for Cairo now that his placement with her was confirmed.

The first on her list was a new car seat. Scrolling with one thumb, she looked over the options—Graco, Chicco, Britax—all with safety ratings and confusing names. His current car seat, a hand-me-down from Amelia, wouldn’t cut it much longer. He’d outgrown the infant size, and even if he hadn’t, Juliann wouldn’t feel right using it now.

She compared two models—one rear-facing convertible seat with extended use, and one rotating. Her chest tightened as she read the price tags, but she kept going. Her current position and habitual saving afforded her the ability to buy everything he needed. Almost instinctively, she searched best strollers for toddlers. A blog post popped up, and she skimmed it while gently patting Cairo’s back.

She knew he was going to have a lot of appointments in the future: pediatrician, dentist, possibly therapy appointments, and maybe even visits with Amelia.

She finally settled on a Baby Trend Jogging stroller and an Evenflo revolving car seat. Both were available from Target and while she was there, she decided to check out what else they had that she might need.

Very quickly, she added a high chair, a few toddler cups, a set of baby monitors, and a baby carrier. So far, Cairo had been most settled when he was in her arms or on her chest. This would make it convenient if they were out and about and he wanted held.

Hunter had texted earlier and sent photos of the now child-proofed home. Tanner, her brother Josh’s husband, had helped by installing high quality child locks on all the cabinets and put rubber covers on the sharp edges of her side table. They anchored the bookshelves, changing table, and dresser into the wall and set up a large play yard in the living room filled with a soft mat, a blanket, a toddler chair, and some toys.

The last time Cai had been at her home, he was crawling and pulling to stand. She didn’t know what impact his malnourishment had on his gross motor skills yet but she wanted to be extra safe. The blinds in the home were already cordless and Hunter made sure none of the other cords were accessible.

Her mom had also texted. The family had missed Cairo’s first birthday two weeks ago but still had all their gifts for him. She had sent a few of the toys over to the house already; a bag of blocks, a toddler sized xylophone, a ride on toy that can also be pushed, and a rather large ring stacking toy. Her dad and Hunter provided a large electric car that Cairo could ride in. Allegedly, it was a blue Jeep but that has not yet been confirmed.

All in all, Juliann felt like she had everything she needed for Cairo. She confirmed her order and double checked that Hunter would be able to install the car seat tomorrow once it arrived. She settled down and made her monthly order for dog food and treats.

Cairo stirred an hour later, cranky and not willing to settle down. This set the tone for the rest of the evening. Cairo threw up the formula he was offered, rejected water, and screamed unless Juliann was standing and rocking him. Running out of options after the fourth round of vomiting, Juliann begged the nurse to help her give the little boy a bath.

The hospital bathroom had been warmed in advance, a soft cloud of steam curling near the ceiling. The overhead light cast a gentle glow on the baby tub nestled securely in the corner. A stack of soft towels, tiny washcloths, and baby-safe soap sat neatly on the counter.

Daniela, a calm, middle-aged nurse with a reassuring presence and kind brown eyes, stood beside Juliann. She wore her dark hair in a braid and had a soothing cadence to her voice.

“Alright, Juliann, we’ll keep the cast dry with this sleeve and use a hand to block any splashes. He’ll feel so much better after,” the nurse assured, wrapping the blue cast in a plastic sleeve.

Juliann nodded, Cairo resting against her chest, not quite settled but not currently screaming.

“He’s been uncomfortable all day. I just want him to feel clean and maybe more settled.”

Juliann settled on the floor next to the tub, testing the water in it with one hand. She noted it was warm but not hot. She turned her attention to the toddler in her arms. Cairo whimpered as he was undressed, his body revealing more than Juliann was prepared for. Her stomach turned and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

Bruises trailed along his side, some yellowing, others newer. Faint scars ran like whispers across his back. She swallowed hard and masked her reaction with a soft murmur, “It’s okay, baby boy. I’ve got you.”

With Daniela’s help, she lowered him into the warm water. Cairo stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed, his lashes fluttering. Juliann used a soapy washcloth to gently clean the dried formula from his chin, the dirt from under his neck, the sweat and grime of days spent under fluorescent hospital lights, and some dried blood from various cuts. She went slow, talking gently to him as she cleaned him from top to bottom. She washed him twice, making sure every bit of dirt was gone.

“He’s a strong one,” Daniela said, her tone gentle as she wet Cairo’s curls. “And lucky to have you.” Juliann thanked her and spent the next few minutes detangling his matted hair. She rinsed out the first round of shampoo and did a quick second round of shampoo before using a detangling conditioner and combing it through gently.

Juliann smiled as the baby began to look more like himself. She rinsed the conditioner from his hair thoroughly and lifted him gently from the now dingy bath water. Daniela handed her the towel she brought from home.

Wrapped in a warm towel, Juliann carried him back to the bed and laid him across her lap. She picked up the baby nail clippers and carefully worked through each jagged nail, noting the small self-inflicted scratches on his cheeks and chest.

“I didn’t even realize how sharp they’d gotten,” she said, putting a bit of Neosporin on the cuts around his chest.

“You’re catching everything now. That’s what matters,” Daniela replied, straightening up the linens.

After clipping the nails, Juliann smoothed baby lotion over his skin—arms, legs, belly, back—taking extra care around the bruises, her hands steady even as her chest ached. She put him in a clean diaper and allowed the nurse to reattach his pulse ox to one tiny toe.

Juliann pulled a pair of blue and white striped socks from her bag and put them on his little feet. She carefully pulled a pair of white pajama pants with elephants and giraffes on his body along with the matching short sleeved shirt. Daniela reconnected the IV, now more important than ever with Cairo’s upset stomach.

Before leaving, Daniela invited Juliann to sit with Cairo on the chair in the room while she changed his linens. She also took a moment to record Cairo’s vitals and help clean up the PICU room. Juliann settled gently on the bed, her bag next to her and Cairo in between her legs. He was distracted with his toys while she spritzed his damp hair with a leave in conditioner and combed it through. His hair was too short to style right now but she wanted to make sure his hair didn’t look unkempt.

Juliann took a few moments to clean out his ears and rub ointment on his face, covering him in kisses just to hear him laugh when she was done. He obliged and turned in her lap, pressing his face into her neck and accidentally smacking her in the cheek with his cast. Juliann laughed and nuzzled his freshly washed hair, smelling the fresh coconut and citrus of the shampoo and conditioner. By 8:30pm, mother and foster son were fast asleep, covered by the light blue blanket from their shared home.

The next morning, Friday, started with 6am rounds and a still fussy, feverish Cairo. He slept relatively well throughout the night and had tolerated some water around midnight. He remained on IV fluids and would until he could successfully keep enough liquid down to stay hydrated. Juliann had changed him into new pajamas after a midnight bought of vomiting.

Currently, Cairo sat propped in Juliann’s lap, his blue cast resting on a small pillow. A tray table was positioned in front of them, where Nurse Sasha had just placed a divided plate of soft, toddler-friendly food—mashed sweet potatoes, scrambled eggs, and pieces of ripe banana. She had given him a dose of an anti nausea medicine around 7:30 that morning.

A cheerful woman in scrubs and a lanyard stepped into the room. “Hi there! I’m Megan, one of speech-language pathologist. Here to see how this handsome guy is doing with feeding today.”

Juliann gave her a tired but genuine smile. “Hi, I’m Juliann. This is Cairo.”

Megan crouched near them and spoke gently to Cairo.

“Hey buddy, I hear you’re working really hard lately.” He blinked at her slowly, then shifted closer into Juliann’s chest. Megan didn’t push, letting the quiet hang as she glanced over the food setup.

With encouragement, Juliann helped guide a small spoonful of sweet potato toward Cairo’s mouth. He opened slowly and swallowed. Megan nodded, scribbling notes.

“That’s great—he has a coordinated swallow and minimal aversion so far. It looks like he may need a little oral-motor strengthening, but he’s responding well.”

They tried a few more bites. Cairo grew tired quickly but managed several successful swallows before turning his head away and curling his fingers into Juliann’s shirt. Megan smiled softly.

“He’s doing beautifully. I’ll set up a plan with daily feeding support and reassess on Monday.” Megan went over a few exercises Juliann could do with Cairo and updated his dietary requirements in his chart. Cairo would get smaller, more frequent meals and she brought a straw cup for him to try.

Juliann cleaned her boy up using a soft cloth and changed his blowout diaper. Cairo was able to keep his food down with the medication on board while Juliann changed him from his pajamas to a gray onesie that said ‘Legend’ and matching pants.

Shortly after getting the toddler dressed, another knock came. This time, a physical therapist named Jamal walked in, holding a clipboard and a small basket of toys.

“Ready for PT?” He asked brightly, showing off a pearly white smile that Cairo regarded with much suspicion.

Juliann nodded and gently adjusted Cairo on the bed. Jamal assessed his muscle tone, noting how he guarded one side and how he struggled to bear weight on his legs when gently encouraged. He had a difficult time picking up the utensils offered and was not interested in rolling a ball.

Jamal tried setting Cairo on the ground to observe his gross motor skills on a solid surface. He noted Cairo attempting to pull himself up using Juliann’s pant leg but struggling, likely due to his cast and partially due to muscle atrophy.

“We’re seeing signs of a gross motor delay, likely from prolonged malnutrition,” Jamal explained. “He’s going to need outpatient PT after discharge, but we can start here with daily mobility exercises and supported tummy time. Juliann, I’ll also give you activities to try at home.”

“Thank you,” Juliann whispered, brushing her fingers through Cairo’s curls and lifting him back into her arms.

After Jamal left, Juliann assisted Cairo in drinking some water from his new cup, praising him for drinking 3 oz. He began rubbing his eyes and was soon asleep in his crib, stuffed animal tucked in his arm and covered with his little blanket.

While he was asleep, Juliann took time to change her clothes, clean herself up a little, send a picture to her family group chat with a progress update, and then she opened an email.

After thinking for a few moments, she typed up a few paragraphs to the HR representative at her job explaining the situation with Cairo and requesting FMLA. Jasmine Arron emailed her back within minutes, providing a link to upload her documentation. After a few moments of googling, she was able to upload her Verification of Custody Letter. She requested the maximum of twelve weeks to start on Monday. That would get her through the beginning of January.

She answered a few pressing work emails, messaged her team an update, and checked on the status of her Target delivery. It was now ready for pickup.

Juliann spent the next hour looking up pediatricians and pediatric dentists in the area before remembering all three of her older brothers had children and texting them. Josh and Hunter both used Rockford Pediatrics and Wesley preferred Stone Health Pediatrics because it was closer to his home. Juliann lived 10 minutes from Rockford Peds and figured she would try him there.

All three agreed on Dr. Brenton Pediatric Dentistry. Juliann knew she couldn’t make an appointment until she found out when Cai would be discharged so she went ahead and texted the names of both locations to the foster care worker, Morgan Langley. She also sent her a quick update. Ms. Langley responded, reminding Juliann about her court ordered update for Amelia.

After a few moments of hesitation, Juliann started a new email.

‘Hi Amelia,

I wanted to send you a new update on how Cairo is doing. He’s made some noticeable progress this week, and I thought you’d want to know.
Cairo came off oxygen Thursday afternoon and has been breathing comfortably on his own. He still gets a little winded if he cries too hard, but overall he’s doing well.

Feeding therapy is going well. He’s starting to tolerate soft solid foods — oatmeal, mashed banana, and even a little bit of pureed chicken. He loves soft vegetables! He’s still working on drinking more, but we’ve seen some improvement every day.

The speech therapist and physical therapist have both done evaluations. He’s behind on a few milestones, but they’re confident that with consistent care and practice, he’ll make steady gains. We’ve started simple daily stretches and movement exercises.

He got his cast for the broken wrist on Thursday too — it’s bright blue and he likes waving it around. Josh calls it his superhero armor!

Emotionally, he’s more alert and connected. He knows my voice and looks at me when I talk. He likes being sung to, and loves warm baths. He’s just like you and doesn’t want to be in dirty clothes!

Right now, discharge is tentatively planned for Tuesday. The doctors want to see continued stability through Monday.

Please let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like me to include in these updates.

Take care,
Juliann’

She also included a few pictures she had taken since Tuesday, attaching them to her email before pressing send. She let her deeply held breath out and relaxed back in her chair. She was tired and she missed Atlas and Echo but every moment of this discomfort was worth giving Cairo a healthy, stable, home.

The rest of Friday and then the weekend passed quickly and without much fanfare. Cairo’s fever broke Saturday afternoon and seemed to stay gone. Hunter came by that afternoon to swap cars with her so her 2023 Subaru Outback could get detailed and have an oil change at the shop. Hunter, who also certified to install car seats, would make sure the car was safe for Cairo.

He let Juliann take a break to go get groceries, and get the house ready for a toddler and two dogs. While at home, she also put away her previous deliveries, started the clothes washer and the dishwasher, took a hot shower, and took a two hour nap in her own bed. She woke up refreshed and ready to put away her grocery delivery. So far, Cairo loved oatmeal, puréed food pouches, berries, bananas, yogurt (Greek only surprisingly), peas, broccoli, and green beans. He tolerated chicken and beef, but absolutely refused any bread product and regular milk.

She noticed Wesley’s wife, Jessa, had clearly stopped by and left two dozen fresh eggs, baked oatmeal bars, muffins, pasta sauce made with fresh vegetables from their garden, strawberry frozen yogurt bars, and two meals in the freezer that looked to be Shepherds pie and stuffed shells.

Juliann sent a quick thanks to Jessa privately and one to her mom for stocking the fridge with juice, her preferred sparkling water with caffeine, Gatorade, and her favorite cold brew coffee and creamer. She knew coming home would be an adjustment, especially with Atlas and Echo in the mix. Jessa had reported Atlas going amazing with their two year old daughter, Aubrey and Juliann was proud of her own hard work socializing and training her dogs.

She left the new car seat by the front door, assembled the delivered stroller and high chair, and repacked her hospital bag. She included two new cups with straws, a handful of diapers, a few pairs of pajamas, a few onesies, and a few pairs of pants. Her weather app predicted it would be chilly on the day. They were due to discharge so she included a soft grey sweater and matching sweatpants for Cairo. She repacked their two favorite blankets, made herself a smoothie for the car ride, and headed back.

Sunday continued with more progress in eating and keeping drinks down. He was able to have his IV removed Sunday evening. Every evening, he got a bath and Juliann made sure his hair was neat and tangle free.

On Monday morning, Juliann was seated in her reclining chair, holding Cairo in her lap. He was dressed in a green short sleeve onesie with soft dinosaurs printed on it and a pair of black pants, his casted arm cradled against her chest. A cartoon played quietly on the mounted television, though neither of them was really watching. Cairo was more interested in a soft book a Child Life therapist had brought by than anything else, content in his person’s lap.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened.

“Good morning,” Dr. Moreno greeted warmly as she stepped inside, a clipboard tucked under one arm and a second doctor trailing behind her in scrubs and a badge that read Dr. Sierra Pace, Pediatrics Resident.

“Morning,” Juliann replied, adjusting Cairo as he shifted against her. As usual, he regarded his doctor with a heavy dose of suspicion and clenched Juliann’s shirt in his non-casted hand. Dr. Moreno offered a reassuring smile which did little to ease the baby.

“How’s our little man doing today?” She asked, reaching out slowly to check his vitals. She knew he would tolerate it as long as Juliann was holding him.

“A little grumpy, but he slept well,” Juliann answered. “He’s had a cup of water, some fruit, and a little bit of oatmeal this morning.”

Dr. Moreno nodded with a satisfied expression as she continued checking Cairo’s breathing and peeking at the color of his fingers and lips.

“He looks stronger. His vitals this weekend were stable, and his appetite seems to be improving consistently. We’re optimistic about discharging him tomorrow,” she said, then gave a small nod to Dr. Pace, who made a quick note on the tablet in her hand.

She pulled up a chair and sat beside Juliann, softening her tone. The resident hovered in the background, trying to win Cairo over by making funny faces.

“I wanted to go over Cairo’s follow-up care with you in more detail, so you feel prepared once you’re home,” Dr. Moreno started.

Juliann nodded, feeling her stomach tighten slightly with nerves. She wondered if she should be taking notes about this, even though Dr. Moreno and Sasha had told her she would get a very comprehensive discharge summary.

“Can I ask you something first?” She questioned as Cairo relaxed more in her arms and appeared to be trying to fall asleep.

“Of course,” Dr. Moreno said, leaning in.

“He still sleeps… a lot,” Juliann said quietly, brushing her fingers through Cairo’s curls.

“I mean, I know he’s been through a lot, but it’s like he can barely stay awake more than an hour or two at a time. Should I be worried?”

Dr. Moreno gave her a gentle smile, her voice calm. “That’s actually a really common concern. And it’s a good question. Cairo’s body is still in recovery mode—he’s trying to repair tissue, rebuild strength, and process consistent nutrition for the first time in a long while. Sleep is a major part of that healing process.”

“So it’s not… neurological or something?” Juliann asked, her brow furrowed. She glanced down looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

Dr. Moreno shook her head. “At this point, we don’t have any reason to think it’s anything more serious. He responds to stimulation, he makes eye contact, and we’re seeing developmental behaviors appropriate for his age even with the delays you’ve noted. But we’ll monitor everything through follow-ups, including labs. If anything concerning comes up, we’ll address it right away.”

Juliann exhaled slowly. “Okay. That makes me feel better.”

“Now,” Dr. Moreno began, “he is going to need outpatient physical therapy and occupational therapy—both of which we’ll refer you to through Bright Hall’s pediatric rehab center. PT will help with his motor skills and building strength. OT will focus on things like sensory integration and fine motor skills, especially considering the delayed development we’re seeing in self-feeding and hand coordination. Cairo will need a follow up with an orthopedic specialist in about 5 weeks to check on his wrist.”

“Okay,” Juliann murmured, shifting slightly. Cairo was dozing now, his body limp and warm in her arms. Dr. Pace handed her the green fuzzy blanket from his crib. Then she grew slightly more serious.

“There’s also a required follow-up skeletal survey two weeks post-discharge. That’s part of the standard protocol following the child medical exam he had when he was admitted and given the confirmed injuries and the concerns about possible physical abuse. It helps us compare healing progress and ensure no additional injuries were initially missed.”

Juliann gave a somber nod, tightening her hold around Cairo.

“It won’t be invasive,” Dr. Moreno added gently.

“Just a set of repeat imaging to check his bones are healing properly and verify no new concerns.”

“Thank you for explaining,” Juliann said quietly. The two doctors nodded and Dr. Moreno stood up.

“As long as no issues arise over night, you all should be discharged around noon tomorrow,” she explained. Juliann exhaled and smiled.

“As great as you all have been, I’ll be ready for us to get home,” she admitted. The two doctors laughed and said their goodbyes and left Juliann to cradle the sleeping baby. Her vision blurred as she let her mind wander. It was going to be an incredibly busy few weeks and she was glad her FMLA had been approved. She was equally glad to work for a company that would allow her to take twelve weeks of parental leave at 80% of her salary.

The brunette stood up and carefully placed Cairo in his crib, ensuring he was covered with the blanket and had his stuffed giraffe in his arm. She dimmed the lights in the room and put her AirPods in.

Juliann sat in the recliner beside Cairo’s hospital crib, legs tucked beneath her as she typed out a quick message on her phone.

Juliann (to Morgan Langley):
Just a quick update—Cairo stood in his crib rail for a couple of minutes during PT this morning. He’s still a bit unsteady, but holding on well. He had some diced banana and yogurt for lunch. Dr. Moreno is still aiming for discharge tomorrow if things stay stable. Let me know if you need any other info.

She turned to her family group chat, sending out a brief message with updates and asking if Hunter would be able to pick her up in the morning. He replied that he would be there around 10am with her car and bring up the stroller to make leaving easier. Wesley would bring Atlas and Echo by around 3pm and drop them off.

When Cairo woke up, she gave him a snack of puréed fruit and vegetables along with water. He was going much better with his drinking. They spent the evening playing together, working on walking, and watching Disney movies.