My late daughter and I made life with CF a beautiful adventure
What Jasmine taught me about bravery, love, and the strength of our bond
Once upon a time, in a small town where laughter mingled with the scent of blooming flowers, I became a parent. My daughter, Jasmine, was born on a sun-drenched day in August, a tiny bundle with curious eyes and a spirit that sparkled like the stars. Little did we know our journey together would be as unpredictable and colorful as a painter’s palette.
For the first two years, life was a beautiful montage of giggles, sleepless nights, and the wonderful chaos of discovery. Each coo and cry seemed to layer a story of love around us. But beneath this joyful surface lay a weight we couldn’t yet understand.
The first signs were subtle: Jasmine struggled to eat yet had an unending hunger. We were told, time and again, that we weren’t feeding her enough, and eventually, Jasmine’s doctor called child protective services to investigate us. The doctor’s words echoed in my heart like distant thunder, the kind you can feel but can’t see the source of. We changed baby formulas, tried different recipes, and pleaded with her to eat just a little more. Yet, with each failed attempt, my heart ached a little deeper.
Several months later, the diagnosis came like lightning: cystic fibrosis (CF), a name that felt foreign and heavy in my mouth. It was then that I understood why my vibrant daughter struggled to gain weight, often seemed tired, and cried so much. My world began to turn upside down; suddenly, our reality not only involved cuddles and crayons, but nebulizers and medications.
Navigating the uncharted
In the days that followed, crying became a rhythm in our house — not just from Jasmine, but from me, too. I cried for my daughter, for the innocence of childhood now tinged with unwelcome complexities.
But through it all, her spirit inspired me. She scattered sunshine wherever she went, her laughter a melody that cut through the darkest clouds of uncertainty. Together, we were on this emotional adventure of love and resilience. Every morning began with a brave ritual: medications lined up on the kitchen counter like magic potions waiting to help her fight the invisible enemies lurking within. Jasmine would giggle as we counted the pills like they were candy, her innocent disregard of their seriousness always reminding me of her strength.
Despite the challenges, we also unlocked a new world of exploration. In many ways, Jasmine still had a typical childhood. Our outings transformed into treasure hunts, where we discovered the beauty of life beyond medicine. Jasmine learned how to ride a bike with training wheels, her laughter ringing through the air as she hummed her own imaginative songs. I held my breath as her small hands gripped the handlebars, her body wobbly but her spirit unyielding.
One memorable summer day, we found ourselves at the lake, where waves kissed the shore with playful enthusiasm. As the lake sparkled under the sunlight, I marveled at Jasmine’s spirit as she splashed in the shallow waters. Her joy radiated like sunshine piercing through the clouds.
We built sandcastles that day, turrets high and grand. Each scoop of sand represented her resilience against the challenges that rose like tides in our lives. As we sculpted, I told her that every grain of sand was a victory, a reminder that we were fighting this together.
That evening, with the sun setting in a vibrant wash of gold and purple, I held Jasmine in my arms as she drifted off to sleep. I watched her chest rise and fall, a rhythm comforting and pure. Tears slipped down my cheeks, not from sorrow but from gratitude for the lessons she taught me about bravery, love, and the strength of our bond.
A never-ending adventure
As the years rolled by, we continued to navigate the intricate maze of CF with courage. Each hospital visit revealed new challenges, but we always emerged united, our adventure never defined by illness, but rather by the moments that filled our hearts with warmth. Though the diagnosis was a storm we never asked for, it painted our adventure with rich colors of empathy and understanding. I learned to celebrate the small victories: every bite she took that nourished her body, every laugh shared during nebulizer and bronchial drainage treatments.
Jasmine passed away at age 27, but as I remember my daughter, a vibrant young girl filled with dreams, I realize that our true adventure lies not in battling CF, but in living fully despite it. And even though our adventure together has ended, I hope that beyond the clouds, where the sun shines brightly and shadows drift away, she’s looking down on me and can see I’m trying to live by the rules that she instilled in me.
Note: Cystic Fibrosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Cystic Fibrosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to cystic fibrosis.
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