The Most Beautiful Baby​ in the World!

There a few, but most important events in my life that gave me great joy, a joy that made me feel like I was the king of the universe. These were times that, if I did something else at that point, I would have succeeded. If I had played the Powerball lottery or something else instead of these events, it would have resulted in a spectacular result. There was the first day of my life, finishing (successfully) grade school, high school and the getting FOUR degrees/diplomas from a major university. Then, there was getting my first teaching job and, eventually, becoming an assistant principal. I remember the music and athletic goals that I also set and achieved for myself as well.

All of that had to be moved over for one more joy: the day I became an uncle for the first time.

Her name is Jasmine Yette Bernier—Jazzy for short. To say that she is the love and joy of my life is putting it nicely. I loved her as if she was my own child, but she is not. She is my sister's daughter. My sister was only 19 at the time Jazzy was born on that December 4, 1982. Just a few months before, I had finally earned my Master's degree. So, 1982 was already a banner year for me.

I vividly remember that Saturday morning. I was fast asleep at home when my parents woke me up at 2 AM.

"We have to go to Laguardia Hospital. Janice is in labor," Mom said.

She and Dad had some things packed in a bag—clothes and stuff—for Janice to change into when things were over. Before they left the hallway, I remember saying one thing in response. I don't know why I said it, but it just came out.

"It is going to be a girl. I can tell."

Mom and I attended the 5 PM Mass at our local Catholic church that night. Halfway through the Mass, I turned to my Mom and whispered, "She's here!" I did not know her name, but I definitely knew that we had a new member to our family.

After Mass was over, I hustled Mom into my cheap 1976 Chey Vega hatchback. I had enough gas and I expected my heap to get us there and back. I don't remember the route I took, the speed I traveled or whether I went through any red lights. I just did not care as long as I got Mom and me safely to the hospital.

Mom kept saying that the little girl's name was Crystal, my cousin's name. I told Mom that we honestly do not know her name because Janice has not told us. Therefore, HER name (Remember that I really did not know the child's gender yet.) would be just as much of a surprise to us as will the gender.

We surprisingly arrived at the Forest Hills hospital just before 7 PM. We hopped onto the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor to the maternity ward. I rushed Mom to the observation window. I saw about 25 babies, but I knew that the prettiest baby in that room was the newest member of our family.

I was right!

The nurse walked over, picked up a baby girl and brought her to the window so that we could see her much better. Mom told me, "Look at Crystal. She is so pretty."

The nurse who held her up told us that we might be looking for the wrong baby. "This is Jasmine. Jasmine Bernier."

With tears beginning to form in my eyes, I looked at Jasmine. She was so adorable. The nurse had her wrapped up in pink blankets. Jazzy had an identification bracelet around her left wrist. She also had something else. She had SIX digits on each hand. My niece had twelve fingers, not the usual ten. It did not matter. I was still overjoyed. This was my niece!!! A few months later, the extra fingers fell off and she was still fine.

I gently tapped on the window. I wasn't trying to startle her or the other babies in the room. The nurse brought her closer to where I was standing on the other side of Mom. I tapped the window again. Then, Jazzy gave me my first laugh. When I tapped the window one more time, she woke up, looked at me, closed her eyes and turned her head while snuggling in the blanket. It was like she was saying, "Leave me alone. I'm tired. I just got here. I need some sleep." Then, she went back to sleep.

Mom and I went to see my sister in the next room. She looked very helpless having been strapped down to her bed. It was explained to me that this was being done so that she would not move around so much and injure herself. She was in good spirits and I was going to be very happy when she was ready to come home. Mom asked her why she chose the name Jasmine. Jan wanted to make sure that the baby's name started with a "J." I liked whatever name she wanted to choose. I loved the name because Jazzy was her Uncle Maurice's new favorite flower.

Having a baby girl in the house meant that we had to make changes from top to bottom. One of the changes had to be done when Jazzy started movement. My sister and I used to have a Nintendo video console in the living room. It sat on a small table in the living room. Jazzy would crawl everywhere. One day, I watched her crawl under that table and get caught in the wires. I started to laugh and then knelt down to free her from her wiry trap. I pulled her back a short distance and told her to crawl around. Guess what. She did the same thing. Janice had seen it this time and laughed as well. I told Jan, "If we leave her here, we could go out for something and come back. She will still be stuck in the same spot."

Jazzy did work on going down the stairs. She had an unusual technique. She would sit on the top step, move her legs forward until her little diapered behind hit the next step. This went on repeatedly until she mastered all the steps. I discovered this one day when Mom, Dad and I were in our living room and we kept hearing, Thump! Thump! Thump! I ran to the steps and saw that it was our little Munchkin trying to get down the stairs.

I remember one cold winter day when I had to pick up Janice and Mom at a nearby railroad station. I carefully wrapped Jazzy up the best way I could and buckled her into the back seat. I made sure that the heater was working and then we drove to the nearby railroad station. When their train came in, Jan looked at Jazzy and then got upset with me. She felt that I did not wrap her properly. I was her uncle. I did the best I could.

One of the very last memories that I have of my baby sister had with Jazzy occurred sometime in December of 1986. Jazzy had just started Pre-K and was given a large paper so that she could start learning how to write her letters. I sat at one end of our kitchen table and Jan, dressed in her bathrobe, sat at the other end of the table. She put Jazzy on her lap and they continued to write the pattern that was on the paper. Jan had guided Jazzy's hand as she tried to copy the letters. When Jazzy made a mistake, they would start again. I looked and felt tears welling up in my eyes. Something told me that this would be the last memory I would have of them being together like this.

My sister spent two weeks in August 1986 fighting a very aggressive leukemia. It was a very tough battle. We thought that everything was going well. She was home from September until mid-December of 1986 until she had to go back to the hospital.

January 1987 brought many new challenges, none of which I was ever prepared for. I had to organize a blood donation for my sister. I tried all I could to save her life. I called upon anyone and everyone to help. On Saturday nights, there was a local church nearby. I would take the long walk to go to Mass and pray for my sister, my family and then Jazzy. When it was over, I walked back to Janice's room at the hospital.

Because of my sister's condition, the passes to her room were limited to just two people. One day, Mom, Jazzy and the mother of one of Janice's friends came to visit. I went upstairs to the room with the lady. There were no cell phones back then. So, when we got to the room, we walked Janice to the window. She looked down and saw Jazzy. They waved at each other. I tried to hold it in, but I had a premonition of what was to come. It would be something that had to happen and that I could not change. Jan cried as she saw her baby girl standing with Mom. Her friend's Mom gave her a good hug. Like the kitchen, I had a strong feeling that this was going to be the only way that this scene would happen. It would be Janice looking down to see Jazzy. I did not want to have Janice seeing me in tears. So, I left the room and went downstairs to relieve Mom. When Mom left to see Jan and I was alone with Jazzy, I gave my niece a hug. I knew that, at some point, it would just be her and me.

On February 3, 1987, my worst fear came to fruition. I was at work when I was called at the job. I was needed at the hospital, but nobody would tell me why. The school secretary drove Jazzy and me to the hospital. I was told to leave my car at work. Why? If my sister was coming home, I needed my car so that I could bring her home. When I got to the hospital, I saw that the paper gowns and masks that were usually left by the door of my sister's room were gone. Dad came out of her room and took Jazzy's hand while only I went into the room. When I went in, I saw why. Mom was standing there crying. A nurse and our family priest were there as well. I looked at my sister and saw why. At around 8 AM that morning, she had passed away. My sister was dead and there was nothing I could have done to save her. She was dead, just less than six months short of her 24th birthday.

I was numb. You could have hit me with a brick and I would not have felt the pain. I could not cry. I could not show the emotion. More importantly, I had no idea of how to explain this to Jazzy. I had no idea of how she would have taken the news. Eventually, I took it upon myself to explain the concept of death to her. I only had hugs to give her. Because Dad did not want her to go through the funeral process with the rest of us, I decided to take her to other funerals as time went on and explained to her how her Mom went through it. We also took trips from time to time out to Long Island to visit Janice's grave site. It was tough, but I had to be strong for Mom, Dad and Jazzy. It had to be done.

As Jazzy grew older, I had to watch some things happen. My brother and his wife welcomed a boy and a girl into the world. Jazzy, her cousin Arthur, and his sister Saki are more like brothers and sisters instead of cousins. I am fine with that. Usually, the three of them plan activities together.

One day, however, Jazzy was walking from school in Jamaica to my Mom's office which was also in Jamaica. I learned later on that she got into a fist fight with a street thug. I was, of course, very happy that she was not cut, shot or killed, but, I was ENRAGED. One of my favorite comic book heroes is the Incredible Hulk. I wanted to find the cretin and just repeatedly beat the crap outta her parents and any male relative living with her. I was that angry, but I did not follow through because I did not want anyone taking out their revenge on my little flower. I had to let my anger go. It was her graduation year anyway.

Jazzy wanted to get away from NY for a while. So, she started looking at out of state colleges. After a while, she settled on Norfolk University in Virginia. After much planning and begging her not to go, we rented a van so that Mom and I could take her there. It was a ride that in its entirety took almost 12 hours. We left NY on a Saturday morning and returned to NY the following day. Before Mom and I left Virginia, Mom said her goodbye to Jazzy. It sounded too somber for me. Mom sat in the van's passenger seat and Jazzy stood next to her. I stood nearby to watch and listen.

"I am going to miss you. You are my baby girl and I will always love you," said Mom.

Jazzy replied, "I love you, too, Nana. When are you coming back to see me?"

"Soon," replied Mom.

Then, they hugged and kissed each other. During this entire conversation, it looked like Jazzy had turned into that baby girl I saw that Saturday night in the hospital for the first time. I almost saw a tear in her eye as she said goodbye to Mom. Mom, on the other hand, sounded like this was going to be her last time to see Jazzy. I was hoping not. We had to have more time together. I gave Jazzy a goodbye hug. Then, Jazzy turned to go to her dorm room. Mom instructed me to take her and me home. It was the toughest drive in my entire life. I was heading back home without Jazzy. I could never drive like that again.

At some point, Jazzy decided to leave Norfolk for a college in upstate NY. I counted my blessings because she was directly in the flight path of the first hijacked plane on September 11, 2001. If the hijackers had not seen the World Trade Center from where they were, they would have crashed the plane into a power plant which was near her area and I would have lost my niece. Fortunately, that never happened.

Today, she is a big girl who has finished college and is working as a social worker. Since then, however, Mom and Dad have also passed away. She is out there on her own. She is doing fine without me, but I still miss her. I will always be proud of her. I know that my parents and sister are very proud of her as well. I will always love her.

Jazzy will always be my little flower. :-)