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A Different Valentines

Dengue, dengue, bronchitis, bronchitis. . . this is the chronology of events for us the past two months. Mishca contacted dengue and was hospitalized on January 15. Thank God her platelet count was very high and never really dipped in the three days we were at the hospital. The day before we checked out, I had a fever and chills. We did a torniquet test and a few red spots appeared appeared on my arm. A week later Mishca developed bronchitis. Before her infection subsided, I developed fever and a bad cough.

We’ve never had an experience like this, but we are making the most of the “rest days.” Yesterday, Michael suprised us both with Valentine bears. I had specifically told him early in our marriage that, although I love flowers, I do not like the fact that they wilt. I like his gifts to last a lifetime. This has not stopped him from getting me flowers, but this year, to my surprise, he finally heeded my request. And so, Mishca and I received bears instead. Mishca loved that she had two Valentine bears on one stick. It is a symbol for her of “Mishca and Mum.” We, two, are in her words “twin babies!”

 

Valentines 2015

 

My Valentine eve was spent in the doctor’s office. I don’t remember the last time I visited a doctor because of a respiratory disease. Because we aren’t sure that this bacterial infection is from my daughter, I had to isolate myself, lest she get another bug on top of the bug she now has. The doctor said it could happen.

“I want my Mom back,” she whimpered to Dad as he patted her to sleep.

You never really realize how attached you are to your child until something like this happens. I spent the night in the room. Mishca and Michael stayed in the guest room of my parent’s house. It was way past midnight and I couldn’t get to sleep so I ended up sleeping on the couch beside their bed.

This morning she tucked herself beside me and hid under the blanket, pretending to be inside the womb again. I was reluctant to play along because she might get my cough, but I couldn’t get her out.

“I want to be with Mom. Why can’t I be beside you?” she said, almost in tears. She manuevered herself on top of me for a cuddle, like when she was a baby.

Later, while riding her small bicycle, she siddled up to me and said, “I am driving to my Mom, so I can be beside her. I love my Mom!”

Before fully awaking from her nap, she cried for me again. Because Michael was not around, I didn’t have a choice but to attend to her, craddling her while suppressing my cough.

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While having a snack, she started talking and asking questions non-stop.My daughter is a self-confessed chatterbox. She got the word from Peppa Pig, her favorite cartoon. I told her to be silent so that I could rest. Talking throws me into a cough fit. She compiled, even if she was slighted. It was a good thing her Dad came back a few minutes later so we can be her chatty self again.

“Mommy, I am back. I got something for you,” Mishca interrupted me as I was typing this and handed me a half-eaten saba (banana). “Yours na, because I want you to be strong.”

“Mom, I’ll pray for you.”

“Lord, heal my mom. In Jesus’ name, Amen!”

“Are you well na?”

She got something on the night table.

“Mommy, this is my gift for you! I made this for you!” she said as she handed me this pretty flag with her printed “art”.

I always hear people talk about the depths of a mother’s love, but not about the unconditional love that a child has for her mother. This Valentines I thank God for letting me experience such a love through my 3-year-old girl.

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