Dear Jasmina

You gave us such a scare yesterday! Yes, you, our little jumping bean with enough curiosity to kill 10 cats! I set you in your exer-saucer, and, rather than protest, or play, as you usually do, when I take my shower, you simply layed your head against a toy and stayed still, only occasionally glancing at me, peering at you, through the steamed glass… Your papa and I don’t like panicking. We kept our cool when you had a fever on Thursday. We blamed the persistant diarrhea on teething.

Then on Sunday, you had cramps… suddenly, out of nowhere. And the wind you passed! But you had regained your appetite and you were such a sweetheart after a long bike ride in the neighborhood. Scenery at a speed faster than mosquitoes, was just what the doctor ordered.

But yesterday morning, you lay on your side, clutching your blanky, staring at us between the spindles of your crib, Christian and I looked at each other and said “this is not normal,” then your papa lost his appetite for breakfast. And on the way to the car, there was such a lump in my throat…

You are our darling little pea, who, when offered a purple car from the collection of a four-year-old boy’s toys, you’ll make your way around a chair, through our legs, to pick up the red car, ’cause you’d spotted your favorite colour. You are our “textbook baby,” only steps away from walking. You are the little girl, the skinny, blond-haired beauty, who makes people exclaim at how active you are.  Do you know how many times you’ve listened to Waka Waka? I’ve lost count! The base blares from the speakers in John’s room, and you stand, transfixed in front of the computer, as the music video plays. Little did we know you are a soccer fan!

So, yesterday, after a visit to the Children’s Hospital (that reminds us, somewhat depressingly, of Sébastien) the attending declared you had the stomach flu. Your lethargy was normal… The flu is going around, she said. So we came back home… a whole 9$ for parking later.

My dear, we’ll hold you close for as long as you need. We’ll stroke your small head if you cry, we’ll give you as many kisses as you need. And when you come back, it’ll be like our personal sunshine has returned… in the meantime, we’re learning just how you can make us feel needed, or powerless, or a little of both. We love you so much! Get better soon!

Love,
Mama