Do you remember those cartoons with Memo the Robot? Does "The Book of Books" ring a bell? Those like me, from the old league (or perhaps just born earlier) understand. Well, our daughter and Memo the Robot taught me patience and joy in suffering.
It all started one morning like any other. I was cooking in the kitchen, our son was at the dormitory (that's how it was back then; the term "kindergarten" didn't really exist), and the girl was playing on the bed, in the bedroom. I could hear her lining up her dolls and getting them ready for sleep, how she told them invented stories, spoken with a warm voice and garbled words.
When, suddenly, I heard a thud and... "Mamaaaaa!!!" No crying, no screaming! My Măriuca was sitting on the floor next to the bed, with her shoulder dislocated. In the first moment, I lost my composure, I wanted to scream, but I pulled myself together in an instant, picked her up gently and ran to the neighbor's, so she could quickly take us to the hospital, because we didn't have a car. My husband was at the office, there were no mobile phones like today... there were only landlines or card phones on the street corner. So, without wasting any more time, I ran to get a car, to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.
They admitted us to the Emergency Room, took an X-ray, and told me it was a clavicle fracture with displacement. Since we didn't have pediatric surgery in Huși, they scheduled us for surgery at the County Hospital the next morning. They put a bandage over Măriuca's abdomen and arm, fixing her shoulder, and sent me home. Only I didn't go home… I went to the Bishopric and placed my child in front of the icon of the Mother of God, the one on the left side, next to the iconostasis, and, with pain, I asked the Mistress to help us. And my Măriuca told the Mistress:
- Look, my second mother (since childhood she would say she had two mothers: the Mother of God and me) is crying... Make me well, so she won't cry anymore! It doesn't hurt me now, but I don't want mom to cry anymore...
We left home, and the next day at 5 AM, we set off for Vaslui. We had an appointment at 7 AM, before visiting hours. They repeated the X-ray, to see exactly if a rod needed to be inserted or if the bone just needed to be straightened and...!!! And great is the mercy of the Mother of God! The fracture remained, but the displacement was gone! We had proof on the X-ray from the previous evening. It was there, black on white, in a V-shape! But now it was just a straight line, slightly ragged. They put a plaster corset on her entire torso and sent us home.
Well, and that's how that "Memo the Robot" was born in our family, the red one with a light bulb nose... Our Măriuca, who always, always was a ball of joy, instead of crying, instead of complaining about the heavy cast on her, laughed! Yesss, she laughed and told everyone:
- Do you want to meet Memo the robot? Knock on the cast and he will appear!
We would knock, and she would assume that straight posture and, in a squeaky voice, say:
- I am Memo the Robot! How can I help you?
And so she stayed for three weeks!
That's how I learned, alongside her, joy in suffering. That's how I learned that my tears hurt her first, and then me. I laughed while crying with her and learned to be joyful! And now I'm still writing while crying, because I see her in her yellow dress, twirling around the house, dancing to imaginary music and laughing with her eyes in the sun. Our Maria, the one with two mothers and infinite joy.
Jenica Gavrilă
Photograph by Skyler Ewing / pexels.com