Today was Scarlett's four month check-up and yes, the visit included SHOTS. Ugh, how I've dreaded it for the past two months. I kept looking into her sweet face as she smiled at me, so innocent, thinking you're going to hate me for this, kid.
This morning our routine wasn't hindered a bit. Diaper changed, outfit chosen, bottle gulped, playtime ensued etc. As I got myself ready I kept thinking of the appointment. And soon enough we were there, in the room, playing with the weird India-inspired elephant mobile.
Those beautiful, blue eyes looking to me for comfort and protection and as I held her hands and shifted one eye to the nurse who was busy with alcohol wipes and needles. I desperately tried to distract my little pea with noises and striped, bear rattles. Who was I kidding, no matter what adorable pattern that noisemaker might be that shot was gonna hurt. And it did. Scarlett's fair skinned face had turned crimson and she let out a wail. The band-aids were on and I scooped her up noticing that she was BARELY crying. This was just a slight discomfort cry... and within FIVE SECONDS it had commenced. Yup, I timed it by "Mississippis". I couldn't believe. All the hype. The shit I put myself through over the past two months when the thoughts of this dreadful day would pop into my head. The feelings of guilt when I played with her, keeping her so happy, knowing that soon I would be driving her to a pain-inflicting horror show.
Jesus. Does anyone else do this as a mom? Guilty of guilt. That's me. My baby girl was the perfect little patient today and I was the big doofus who lost sleep over nothing. I have so many other wonderfully awful things to worry about. Now I can at least cross SHOTS off my list. She deserves a sticker and I should get the kick in the ass.