Baby Jasmine was already upset before Mom even touched her wound. The moment she saw the cloth and medicine, her small body stiffened. Her face twisted with anger, eyes flashing with fear and frustration. She didn’t understand that help was coming—only that something uncomfortable was about to happen.
As Mom gently cleaned the wound, Jasmine let out a sharp scream. Her tiny hands pushed away, feet kicking wildly. Anger poured out of her in loud cries and sudden movements. The sting of cleaning hurt, but what hurt more was not knowing why it had to be done. Jasmine’s whole body shook with emotion.
She thrashed and screamed harder, her mouth wide open, voice raw and desperate. Tears rolled down her face as she fought with all her strength. To Jasmine, this wasn’t care—it felt like betrayal. She tried to escape Mom’s hands, even though those same hands had always brought comfort before.
Mom stayed calm. She didn’t shout. She didn’t rush. Holding Jasmine firmly but gently, she spoke softly, reassuring her with steady words and slow movements. The wound had to be cleaned to heal, even if Jasmine hated every second of it. Mom worked carefully, finishing as quickly as possible.
The moment it was over, Mom pulled Jasmine close. The screaming continued for a few seconds, then slowly broke into sobs. Jasmine buried her face into Mom’s chest, clinging tightly. Her anger faded into exhaustion, replaced by the need for comfort.
Soon, Jasmine’s cries softened. Her breathing slowed. She stayed wrapped in Mom’s arms, no longer fighting. The wound was clean, but more importantly, trust was being repaired. Jasmine wasn’t naughty—she was scared and hurting. That day showed how hard love can be. Sometimes caring means staying patient through screams, holding on through anger, and choosing gentleness even when a baby cannot understand yet.
