My dearest frog princess:
It has been a while since I’ve sat down and written you a note (you hear this a lot from me, don’t you?). What a roller coaster ride these last few months have been!
Through it all, though, I have you. Your beautiful smile greets me every morning and I feel blessed. You know just when to come up and hug me and your knock knock jokes are sure to make me giggle.
And boy, you are growing like a weed! Not just physically but mentally as well. Do you know that you can now operate my phone? You have these cool apps I’ve downloaded for you. These days, you can count to 10 in English and en español. And nothing brings me more joy than hearing you play with the alphabet apps and saying “mama, where’s the K?” and then when I say “I don’t know, where?” you say “there it is!” and press the button.
Your curiosity reminds me of what we lose in childhood. That wonder. That sense that everything is a miracle.
You spiked a fever last night and ever since, your dad and I have been on seizure watch. Your temperature would not get back to normal all day long although you were your normal bubbly self.
But as the day turned into evening, you wanted to be picked up and rocked and I knew we were in trouble. I saw that the light in your eyes was a little dimmed and I started to worry. It’s funny because I prayed that you wouldn’t seize. And God answered our prayers. Of course we didn’t pray that you wouldn’t experience the postictal period (which is basically when you go unconscious for anywhere between 15-30 minutes after a seizure). That happened around 6:25. And there’s nothing like holding you and watching you fade not knowing what is wrong.
Suffice it to say, today has been a long day. But, by the end of the night, you were singing and dancing (your dad has video) and back to your usual antics. I’ll be taking you in to the doctor tomorrow to see what’s up with the reason behind your fever.
I missed mami a lot today. Not like I miss her less on some days. Do you know that when I’m putting you down to bed and we are lying on our pillows looking at each other in the dim glow of the nightlight, all I can see is her face? You look so much like her. Especially when you put your hands on my face and ask me if I’m happy with a big smile on your face.
Tonight when I was rocking you to sleep the thought hit me that you are missing out on some extra special love. How will you ever know how much she adored you? How will you ever get spoiled like only she could have? Who will you run to and hide behind when you do something that upsets me? Who will give you that kind of love?
I am trying hard to love you for two. On days like this, I feel like there is not enough love in my heart because as a mother, your heart bursts at the seams with love for your child. But I cannot imagine what happens to the heart once your child has a baby of their own. I miss her, baby girl. And I miss that you are missing her and don’t even know it.
You are well aware of who she is. Her picture is everywhere. Her essence in every corner of this house. I pray that I can give you enough love for the both of us. And that my heart doesn’t break in the process of trying to handle an insurmountable amount of love while at the same time trying to handle this insurmountable amount of grief.
I love you, from here to the sun and back (times infinity).