Last week Cade had his 15 month check-up. The good news? He is healthy and growing beautifully. The bad news? He was due for 3 shots (2 routine, 1 flu). The vaccination portion of his check-ups have never been pleasant for me or my husband, but it is definitely getting harder the older, more aware, and freakishly strong, he gets.
I have never been a fan of needles. When I was a wee one (translation: up until my early teen years), the nurses at my pediatrician's office had to chase me around the tiny examination room for a good five minutes before I let them do their necessary evil. And even as an adult, when I have my annual flu shot, or have blood drawn, etc., I look away until the deed is done.
But now, as a mother, it is my duty to face the shots head on and stay strong for my son, no matter what.
No matter how many shades of pink and purple he turns during the struggle after that first shot.
No matter how long he gasps and holds his breath after that second prick.
No matter how long and LOUD he cries after that final poke.
No matter how fat the tears are that come streaming down his SuperMegaUberUltra sad face once the worst is over.
No matter the fact that, by my calculations, I lose one hour of sleep (that night) for every shot that Cade has gotten (that day).
No matter what.
Because I know that these shots are protecting him, and his little bod, from some pretty scary stuff. And because I am painfully aware that there are [little and grown-up] people "out there" who go through this agony, or worse, every day. Parents with sick children. Children with sick parents. And I can't even begin to imagine how much their hearts hurt.
So, I stick it out (pun intended), and once we get to the car, when Cade is safely strapped into his seat, I can take a deep breath, exhale, and maybe even shed a couple tears of my own.
As soon as the dread that we will go through this again in 3 short months sets in, it is immediately quelled by the relief that we only go through this once every 3 months.
Nothing, absoutely nothing, tears at the heartstrings like watching your child suffer. Nothing. It's good that you have perspective because, as you point out, there are children in the world who suffer terribly. One can't help thinking about Baby Ella for one.
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