I Love You Mummy

• Nur Elisya Mohamad Razif, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2013

The sound of my crying filled the room on the 10th of December 2009. I reached out for my mummy and daddy to pick me up in their soft, comforting hold.

Mummy?
Daddy?

They weren’t there to comfort me, to help cease my crying. Where were they?
Rough hands carried me. The hands didn’t belong to Mummy or Daddy; they belonged to the nurses. Where were they taking me? I tried to squirm out of their grip, but I was bundled up tightly in a pink cloth. I wanted to stretch my hands and feet, but I was trapped. I wanted my parents… Now!

However I was taken to a room and they laid me on a cold bed. It wasn’t comfortable. I wanted to sleep in my mummy and daddy’s bed. I wailed, attempting to call out to my parents.

The nurses started poking me with sharp things. Ow, ow, ow.

Why were they doing this?
Did they want to see me cry?
Couldn’t they see it was painful?
I knew that Mummy and Daddy would never hurt me. I wanted to go home.

As if I wasn’t hurt enough, they then put tubes in my body. Were they poking me again? I was surprised when my blood started flowing through the tubes. Why were they taking my blood?

Just then, Mummy and Daddy burst through the doors. I expected them to be happy that they finally saw me, but my mummy was crying, and my daddy looked solemn.

Why are you crying, Mummy?

“The doctor must have told you that Alyssa has a high chance of leukaemia. I’m sorry, but babies who have leukaemia do not usually survive.” The nurse said, while stroking me. I squirmed. I wanted Mummy to stroke me.

Was that why Mummy was sad? Was it because I have leukaemia?

Don’t cry, Mummy. I will be fine.

Wrought in emotions, I fell asleep. The next minute I knew, I was in a warm place called home. There my siblings fussed over me, and I felt so loved. They made me smile. Mummy never stopped praying for me. She prayed that the doctors were wrong. She prayed that I didn’t have leukaemia. Every night, she would whisper sweet words to me, and she would comfort me while tears slid down her face.

Don’t cry, Mummy. I will certainly not die, just for you. I will survive. You just wait.

Days passed, and my mummy’s prayers were answered. I didn’t have leukaemia. I had Down Syndrome. Nonetheless, Mummy was joyous, and hugged me. I wanted to cheer as well, but I couldn’t do that just yet.

Now I’m 3, alive and healthy. I know I am well loved by all I meet. I even know my alphabet and numbers. I think I have a great life.

What did I tell you, Mummy? I told you that I would survive. Thank you for praying for my wellbeing.
I love you, Mummy.