Today, my daughter was vaccinated.
She had her two-month-checkup,
And was given her first round of shots.

Not easy on baby.
Definitely not easy on mommy.

I paced nervously around the doctor’s office.
I sang to her.
Loudly.
I belted out tunes from “Beauty and the Beast” and “The Little Mermaid”,
Not caring who heard me.
I had to drown out the noise of my racing mind.

I asked the nurse if she was gentle.
I asked the doctor if the nurse was gentle.
I asked the nurse if I could nurse.
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“You want to nurse her during the shots?”
Again, her eyes turned towards me, saying “Are you insane?”
Maybe I was.
I’m a mom.
My job is to prevent my daughter from hurting
From being in pain
From crying.
I know that vaccinating her against horrible diseases is, in fact, protecting her. But the idea of having little needles going into her plump, perfect pulkes was putting me over the edge.
“No, not during. After. I promise you, I won’t be whipping out my boob for you right now,” and I gave a nervous laugh.
Apparently, I was the only one who found my joke humorous.
Great.
I’d successfully pissed off the woman who is entrusted with pricking my baby.
I decided to put on my muzzle.
The nurse instructed me to hold my daughter’s hand.
I refrained from asking the nurse to hold my hand.
The rest of what happened is a blur.
She got three little shots.
She cried.
She calmed down.
I guess anticipation really is worse than reality,
When it comes to the first day of school,
First day on the job,
First date,
First shots.
3 hot pink camouflage bandaids later and my daughter no worse for the wear.
And hey, she looks pretty fierce, too.