becoming a business owner. We were young Black newlyweds, ready to take on the world. To those looking in from the outside, we seemed to live the perfect lives, without even as much as a speeding ticket on our records.
However, on April 7, 2014, our lives changed forever.
There we were, standing at the hospital bed of our tiny, six-week-old daughter. She was taken in for seizures that seemed to have come without warning. My husband and I were still trying to comprehend what was actually happening when we were asked to sign off various testing for our child. That night they ordered X-rays, CT-scans, and an MRI. Our child was moved up to the intensive care unit while we waited for the results—we heard nothing more until morning.
That next morning, my husband left to take care of a few things back home. He felt comfortable leaving for a couple of hours because doctors somewhat stabilized the seizures, and my mother had arrived at the hospital early that morning. Shortly after my husband left, my mother and I were met by a team of physicians who informed me that they had reason to believe that our child was a victim of physical child abuse.
They told us that test results indicated multiple rib fractures and intracranial hemorrhaging, that my child was “shaken, brutally beaten multiple times”, and that they had notified DCFS. Being shocked, bewildered, and confused by the news, I asked to see the results of the testing. My request was ignored, and