Maria had her 15 month check up today. All is well. I, on the other hand, am not. I am thinking about starting a business where a kind, caring individual comes to the doctor with you, and then when it is time for shots, you leave the room and they stay and then the second it is over they rush your child, screaming & crying & turning purple, into your loving, waiting arms. I always feel like such a liar, looking into my children's eyes, saying it's going to be ok, when in reality Barbarian the Nurse is about to poke their little thighs several times with very large needles. I feel like I can no longer be a participant in this deception, nor do I want to associated with it. Having the pregnancies I had, I am very aware that there is NOTHING ok about thighs and very large needles. They say it is worse for mom then for child, and I am sure there is some truth to that. When I (or Andy) was injecting myself every day while preggo, I only cried one time when we hit a particularity tender spot. I have, however, cried EVERY time one of my children has gotten shots. It is utter torture for me. I may need to start sending Andy because I am pretty sure my shot witnessing days are done. My heart can take it no more...
Maria's poor little legs!
2 comments:
Aww...at least she got cute band aids...Mason always got these crazy neon ones and I was like OK, way to be subtle and make them forget...they would just stare down and start crying all over again. So Sad, hope she feels better.
Poor baby!
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