My Grandson Wouldn’t Stop Crying While His Parents Were Shopping—Then I Opened His Diaper and Ran to the ER

I walked him around the room.

Nothing.

I checked his diaper through his sleeper. It didn’t feel especially full.

I hummed the old lullaby I used to sing to Daniel when he was sick. Noah’s cries only grew sharper, more desperate, like little splinters of sound stabbing through the room.

A cold unease began to move through me.

Babies cry. I knew that. Lord knows I knew that. My son had colic for the better part of four months. I had spent enough nights walking floors to last a lifetime.

But this was different.