My little Chipmunk had his first shots today. I was totally equipped with my baby Tylenol and "I can do this" attitude.
The nurse and doctor explained the shots and that he might run a low grade fever afterwards, so I was "prepared" to help my baby through this experience.
Nurse two came into the room with three needles and the oral vaccine and told me that sometimes the parents take the shot harder than the baby. I was prepared.
I held his hands, she administered the shot, and he looked at me. Tore his face up. Dropped his pacifier. And screamed bloody murder!
My heart sank, but I was able to hold myself together for three seconds before I laid my face beside his and let our tears roll into each other.
Then I realized that I was a mom and my son needed me to be a rock. I stood up straight and regained my composure.
Nurse two placed three little, round bandaids on his chubby, brown thighs and reminded us to have a great day. I scooped up my crying baby and held him. I whispered in his ear that he was mommy's little champion.
But I seriously wanted to curl up with him on the examining table and cry too.
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