Dear Poppy,
In your short three months in this world, you have already had five nasty vaccinations. The first one was the day after you were born. At the time, you were so new and unaccustomed to the outside world that you probably thought the needle was part of the deal. You hardly flinched as the nurse inserted the big needle into your tiny arm.
At the tender age of two months you got two really big shots, one in each thigh. I had been warned that this vaccination was a particularly hard one for mums to deal with alone, and I had been advised to bring dad along. So dad took a whole day off work and we headed with trepidation to the local surgery. We met many other mums with babies there, all of whom had come for the same reason. We made small talk, discussed baby sleep patterns, colic and the cold weather. We tried to avoid talking or thinking about why we were there. As if to remind us, every ten minutes we would hear a loud wail from inside the nurse's room, increasing the fear and anxiety that we felt deep in our stomachs. The nauseous feeling in my tummy was worse than what I had felt before medical school exams, worse than I would feel before going in for vivas; it was discomfort at a completely new level.
We went in and you were smiling at the nurse. Little did you know what she had in store for you. I ended up holding you and having to restrain your arms and thighs as the needle went in. You screamed. It must have felt like you were being betrayed by people you trusted. As if this wasn't enough, I then had to turn you to offer your other thigh for the second vaccine. My eyes were full of tears, there was a dull thumping in my ears and I felt far away from everything. I remember not being able to register what was being asked of me. How could I put you through this pain again? Daddy had to intervene and turn you around so that you could get your second shot. You wailed.
Soon after you were asleep, as if you didn't want to have anything more to do with this cruel world. We came home and held you for most of the rest of the day. At one point you woke up with a completely new kind of cry, one we hadn't heard before. It was a soft moaning 'I am in pain' cry. Daddy and I looked at each other, helpless and not knowing what we could do except hold you close.
It was only in the evening, after your bath, that you decided that all was well and you were back to your usual happy and chirpy self.
A month later, it was that awful time again. This time though, it was just the two of us. I was braver and a little more stoic. The same mums in the waiting room, the same feeling of dread, even the same nurse doing the honours. However, this time you were your happy old self within a few hours of the ordeal.
I can't bear to see you in pain. If you were a few years older, I could try to explain that vaccinations are good for you in the long run even if they are unpleasant. But at three months old, pain to you is just pain. And when you're in pain, Poppy, so am I.
Love, mommy.
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