Vivi on Film

The Vivi Channel

Seize Each Day

Viviana is now two. I had this long blog written in my mind about how we went to Chuck E. Cheese, on Saturday and Sunday, of her birthday weekend, how she pointed to herself and said, "Birthday Girl" and answered "Two" with enthusiasm when we asked her how old she was.

I had that all in my head and then time took over and it was washed out, like rain pouring down a letter of inked words, black running down the pages like mascara.

Last Friday, Vivi was sick. Had a viral infection that caused blisters and a fever. Friday night after her bath, Cesar and I hoped that she would have a good night sleep. We had just put her diaper on her, a long white cotton shirt, her wet curls around her face and then her back curved and she looked like she was having the chills, she began to convulse and then her eyes began to roll into the back of her head. Cesar picked her up and I screamed and called 911. Cesar carried her to the living room and my ma who was with us, was screaming and crying and praying all at once, and cries of "Why?' and Olivia barking and my mother sobbing. "I can't understand you." the woman said and I looked and our girl was limp and we thought she was gone. "Put her on her side and don't hold her." and I told Cesar and he did and then she slowly began to respond. "Hi, baby" we said stroking her hair, the wetness on our fingers mixing with my tears and I asked, "How old are you?" because I knew she knew the answer to that and would she still know it? "Two" she said softly and we exhaled and then she said, "Chuck E. Cheese" and those were the sweetest words.

Her fever had gotten too high and the ER doc informed us that we should be giving her both Tylenol and Motrin and for the next two days we did so as the fever hesitated to leave like an uninvited guest.

Monday came and fever went and she is getting better, still fighting the viral infection, but much better. Doesn't remember her daddy and mommy about to explode with sorrow, with guilt of being helpless, with me thinking I delayed care because I couldn't calm down fast enough to say our address.

We thought she had left us. That's the only way I can say it because the other words don't want to nor will I allow them to escape my mouth. My girl who talks and talks and sings and colors and hits and loves and bites and hugs and knows her mommy and daddy and puppy and grandmas, my girl whose big eyes blink in awe when seeing the moon or fish or stops to smell the flowers,literally, my girl we thought wasn't here anymore.

Perspective. That's what I got from all of this. What's really important and not just because some email forward, or some quote or some over used line of "Think about what is really important" was dished at me, but perspective that smacks you in the face and pulls all of what you know from you, like gum, out and stretched and you aren't ready to let go, your teeth hold on and the gum wants to rip and all you want to do is savor it once more and make bubbles and have it be yours, sweet and flexible and with you.

That seizure may not have caused any long term effects for her, but it created long terms effect for her daddy and me.

Seize each day.

Two

Vivi's going to be 2 in less than two weeks. Two. My girl who I can still remember being inside my stomach, with her butt always pushing against me, who's heart beat I heard through a monitor, who had me in labor for 22 hours, that girl who just last year didn't have teeth, who didn't run, who didn't talk, is turning two. Now, she runs, she says, "Good morning, daddy" "Help me, mommy" "No no no, Olivia." who when we asked her yesterday, "Vivi, do you want french fries or yogurt?" replied, "Cake." When did that happen? When did she start opening and closing doors, drawing pictures, climbing on and off our bed, saying "Park" and going up and down the slide - by herself? I know all parents say, "Enjoy it. They grow up so quick." and they are right. I really don't remember her being so little when she was too small in the highchair that she would lean and slide to one side that Cesar and I had to put towels around her to prop her up. I can hardly remember measuring formula and carrying around water and holding the bottle for an hour just so she can drink 3oz, I almost forgot how she couldn't go into the bath tub herself, how we bathed her in a baby tub, propping her up with one hand. I mean it's not like I forgot really, but it's like the memory game. All the memories of her on the back of small cards, flipped over and Cesar will say "Remember when?", flipping a card, and that will trigger that memory for me and I will flip the matching card and then we laugh and add our own remembrances and the memory unfolds for us. Two. My girl. My Viviana.