As my granddaughter, Mariah, turns three years old this week, I am reminded about the day of her birth and how I was awakened to something I rarely see. A policeman verbally harassed an African-American man. Police harassment and racism videos are all over the internet today more than they were three years ago when Mariah was born.
The phone woke me at 5:30 a.m. on August 12, 2013. Finally my daughter, Kerry, was in labor. I was elated, becoming a first time grandma, and I wondered what the baby would look like, how long the labor would last, how it would feel to hold a tiny baby in my arms again. 
My mother and I met the parents-to-be at the hospital. Security gave us a pass that allowed us through the locked ward and Kerry was allowed four visitors. This tiny unborn baby already had five grandparents and a great-grandma. Friends and relatives paraded in and out all day.
The doctor predicted Kerry wouldn't give birth until later in the night so we knew we it would be a long day. 
After about eight or 10 hours, my mother and I sat quietly in a waiting room across the hall from Kerry’s room. My mother, who uses a cumbersome walker, was 82 years old. It's not easy for her stand, get her balance, pick up all her overstuffed bags and walk, but none of that mattered. A uniformed policeman kicked us out of the ward and escorted us back to the main waiting room.  
Was my mother targeted for kidnapping? I pictured her grabbing a baby, tucking it under her arm and “racing” out the door with her walker. "Somebody stop that Granny!"
The image was amusing, except I was confused and angry. I mumbled something under my breath and told the policeman it would take my mother “30 minutes” to make the circle back to the main waiting room and then back to Kerry’s room after several of her endless visitors left. What was the point?
The policeman also kicked out an African-American man and we were escorted out side by side and I complained loudly to him. 
 I was fuming, but he remained calm. The policeman ignored my remarks, but yelled at the man. He was up in his face saying he could kick this man out of the hospital because this man said, “hell.”
The African-American man showed incredible strength and restraint that I admired. He kept telling the policeman, “Leave me alone.” The policeman verbally harassed this first-time father-to-be and it seemed like racism to me. The man kept saying he was going to be a father today and he didn’t want to ruin that. The man seemed to take this harassment in stride, but I was not used to it. It wasn't the first time he had been harassed.

I was the one being belligerent. That man didn't deserve to be disrespected and mistreated and I felt guilty and sad for him. I was sad for him and his precious unborn baby.

There are rules but the policeman showed no compassion for my mother. It was a long day for my mother and we weren’t in the labor room with Kerry. We were across the hall in a small, empty, waiting room. I felt like that policeman stole a little piece of our birthing experience and he poisoned it. And it didn’t fit. Our baby Mariah was entering our beautiful world.
I was reminded in the most poignant of ways that this world has kidnappings and racism and police harassment, and many other problems. Welcome to our wonderful and broken world, sweet Baby Mariah. I love you with all my heart. God help us all. Love, Mimi

P.S.  Security at Magee Women's Hospital is more strict after a baby was kidnapped by a woman posing as a nurse several years ago. The baby was found safe a couple days later. But Magee Women's Hospital will never be the same.