My mother barged into my hospital room demanding the $25,000 I’d saved for my baby’s surgery to fund my sister’s wedding. When I refused, she struck my pregnant belly—my water broke instantly. As they kept demanding money, the door burst open.

“That’s almost exactly what I need,” Taylor said.

“It’s not available,” I replied. “It’s for heart surgery.”

My mother carefully set down her fork.

“Hospitals have payment plans,” she said smoothly.

“With interest,” I answered. “That would bury me.”

“Family helps family,” my father added.

“My baby is family,” I said.