One year, three shots

Caroline went to the doctor today for her one year checkup and to my (and her) surprise, she got three vaccinations: MMR, Hep A and Chicken Pox. (Everything else checked out ok!)

There’s a vaccine for chicken pox. Didn’t know that. Would have been nice.

So she got hit with shots twice in one leg and once in the other and let me tell you, I don’t know if I’ve had a more heartbreaking moment than being a part of her getting shots.

Today, I was trying to calm her down so she’d lie still on the table and just like the time I’d been a part of this before, I realized I’d be looking in her eyes as she got the needles. It’s a terrifying experience because in those moments before, you wonder, “Will she associate this pain with me? How can we do this to her? Am I betraying her trust that I’ll take care of her?”

But the vaccines are part of how we take care of her, though she has no EARTHLY idea. So again today, I was looking at her sweet, kind and trusting face when she got the first one. Immediately she jumped a little, startled, and over the course of two LONG seconds she went from cool like the refrigerator to blowtorch red.

But it’s the crying that gets you. It started low and slow and picked up velocity and volume over those short seconds until she was just so sad and hurt that she could barely breathe. And with three needles today, she had already taken her first breath before the second shot was in and even more time elapsed as the nurse switched legs.

The seconds dragged by as the nurse cleaned and band-aided the shot spots before I could pick her up and hold her. But she was so upset, she didn’t calm down for several minutes. She cried and cried in a way I’ve never heard her, with this gasping yell that she did over and over again like a CD of someone torturing my daughter was skipping.

It’s what she needs though and it’ll happen again. And while kids cry all the time when they get shots, this time, at one year old, it seems like she knows that you are an accomplice -- but she still has no way of understanding that we do this for her benefit. Maybe at least later she’ll be old enough to understand the words us even if she cries.

One day I hope I remember this story and tell her and say “See, aren’t you glad? You haven’t had chicken pox!” I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.