Last night was one of those moments that reminded me just how fragile and precious my little girl is.
Amalia had a fever.
It started with her feeling unusually quiet—no endless chatter, no running around the house like a ball of sunshine. When I touched her forehead, it was warm. I checked her temperature: 38.5°C. My heart skipped a beat. I know it’s just a fever—kids get them—but when it’s your child, logic sometimes takes a backseat to worry.
She clung to me like a little koala, her cheeks flushed, her body warm against mine. I held her close, gave her paracetamol, and whispered stories while her favorite blanket wrapped around us like a shield. Every sigh, every shift in her breathing, I noticed. That’s the thing about being a mom—you tune in to every little sign. You don’t sleep until they’re okay.
Through the night, I kept checking her temperature, wiping her with a damp cloth, praying the fever would break. And slowly, it did. By morning, she was a little brighter, her eyes had that familiar sparkle again, and she even asked for her favorite breakfast—champorado.
It was just a fever, yes. But to a mom, it was a night of worry, love, and whispered prayers. And to Amalia, it was just another reason to know she’s never alone.
Even in the quiet, feverish hours, we had a moment. And that’s what this blog is for—Moments by Amalia—even the ones that test our strength and deepen our bond.
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