They shot him.

In the thigh. With a syringe. Containing the immunizations for diphtheria, tetanus, pertusis, polio, Hib and pneumo conjugate.

I have been dreading this day since he was born. DREADING it. I still remember in the hospital, when they took his blood, and he cried, and I scrambled over my bed in my swollen, delirious post-partum state, shoving a meal cart out of the way to get to him. The Hubbs was beside him, holding his hand, but that wasn't enough because he was still crying. And at that stage of our relationship, his crying was the most unbearable sound possible. I maneuvered myself over to him, to the amusement of the evil ladies who delighted in taking newborn blood, and stuck my (clean) finger in his mouth. He quieted immediately. He stopped crying. He sucked my finger and it brought him all the comfort in the world. I get weepy just thinking about the first major crisis we survived together.

I approached his two month shots with the same trepidation. I really didn't want to go. We considered not immunizing our son, but after heavily weighing the pros and cons, decided that our Sweet Baboo will be getting all his vaccines. Some he will be getting on an altered schedule, and some he'll be getting right on time, but he's getting all of them. So when I turned to my husband on the highway on the way to the Dr and said "We're not going", he knew not to take me seriously.

I had heard HORROR stories about baby's first shots. I've heard that the person's baby screamed like they've never screamed before, a horrible, blood curdling, gut-wrenching scream to end all screams. Just thinking about such a sound emaniting from my sweet, sweet baby made my eyes tear up.

Thank God I didn't actually have to endure it. The nurse told me to hold him like I was feeding him so that he would be comfy and secure, and wouldn't get as upset. I thought, why not actually feed him? This kid loves his mommy milk, and I wanted to do what I could to comfort him in his hour of need. I've heard theories that the parent shouldn't hold the baby while he's getting his shots because then he will associate the parent as the cause of the pain. I considered that, but I knew deep down that I just couldn't hand him over and let someone prick him while I stood by, sheilding myself. So I fed him. And she stuck him. And he cried. 

He did not scream a horrible, blood curdling, gut-wrenching scream to end all screams. He cried for two seconds, and then went back to eating. And she stuck him again. Again he cried, then refilled his mouth with boob mere seconds later. He fussed for less than a minute total while I held him and rocked him and told him how proud of him I am. My husband kissed him and told him what a brave boy he is.

 

He really is. He is such a little trooper, and I couldn't be prouder of him for taking it like a man (or woman. I don't descriminate).

On the way back from the doctor we stopped off at a store to get some more tile for redoing the kitchen floor. He was fine for the first while, but The Hubbs took FOREVER, and eventually he started to whimper, then cry. I tried to soothe him with his pacifier, but that didn't work, and so I wound up having to unsnap him from his carseat and hold him. He quieted immediately. I love the fact that I can calm him instantly just by holding him--that I've been able to do that since the day he was born. He knows who his mommy is.

When The Hubbs FINALLY returned from the store lugging two heavy boxes of tile, I had to slip Our Sweet Baboo back into his carseat. He was NOT impressed, but when the car started the motion lulled him to sleep and he slept like an angel while we drove, grocery shopped, and drove back home. He woke up right as we walked through the door, and lay giggling on the couch with my husband, totally forgetting why there are one blue and one red band-aid on his thighs.