Laresa Watkins

It Definitely Hurts Him More Than it Hurts Me! So Why am I the one Crying?

May 27, 2010

Charlie and I just returned from his doctor’s appiontment for his one-year vaccinations.  This was actually our second trip to the doctor this week.  On Monday we went in only to find out that the doctor’s office had lost electricity over the weekend and their vaccines couldn’t be used.  Having already mentally prepared myself for the trauma that always occurs (for me, not Charlie) when it’s time for a shot, that was a slight letdown.  Not to mention the fact that we live 45 minutes away from his pediatrician’s office, so that’s a pretty good chunk of time spent on the road!

Charlie did just fine today.  He had 4 shots, 2 in each leg.  He cried for about 20 seconds and then got extremely excited over the small rubber turtle that the nurse gave him.  The entire experience was definitely more horrifying for me than it was for him.  I have been praying for a couple of days that it wouldn’t be too painful for Charlie and that I would be brave, and God decided to answer one part of my prayer-I’ll let you guess which one (but I will tell you that I had tears in my eyes, too)!

Today’s experience made me think about two things.  First of all, why don’t adults get prizes when we gets shots?  When Charlie saw that turtle, he forgot about everything that had just happened to him.  Do you know how many shots I have had over the past year and a half?  Counting flu shots (so Charlie wouldn’t get the flu) and steriod shots (when I was in premature labor and Charlie’s lungs weren’t quite developed), too many to count!  What did I get? Nothing!  Doctors should have some Kate Spade purses or at least some McDonalds giftcards tucked away for us! I would have some serious loot stashed away by now.

Secondly, why is the thought of a needle coming towards me or someone I love so traumatic for me?  I blame my mother.  She has a deep fear of shots, and I think passed her hysteria onto me.  I have vivid memories of running around the waiting room of a doctor’s office after escaping upon seeing the nurse enter the room with her little basket of needles.  My mother did that to me.  She would lie and tell me I wasn’t getting any shots, or would just become so nervous herself that I would, of course, become scared.

I have got to get control of myself for Charlie’s next round of vaccinations.  They are a necessary part of life and don’t have to be so traumatic.  Ya’ll pray for me.

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