This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you

Good morning, Matthew. You're going to the doctor today, and you're gonna get some shots.

I wake up happy, and so does the baby. We've both slept through the night, for the third night in a row. Could this be habit-forming? I hope so. I feed him before we go and change his outfit and diaper. No poopy diaper, only wet. That's strange. Usually he poops in the morning. Oh well, it will come later, I'm sure of it.

We have a 9 o'clock appointment and miraculously get there on time. The nurse measures and weighs the baby. By the way, he's 25.5 inches long and weighs 16 lbs. Looking good, Matty, the pediatrician says after checking him over and answering my silly little questions. As he leaves I redress the baby and patiently wait for the nurse to come in. Matthew is content hanging out on the table, and I enjoy pumping his legs and playing with him. Minutes go by, but it feels longer. Two rooms down we hear a young boy screaming in pain. I guess he's 7 or 8, but I never see him. AHHH! YOU'RE KILLING ME!!! is what we hear over and over. Matthew holds still for a moment to listen to the shrieks and then continues to play. The bright pink design on the wall fascinates him. His eyes are riveted to the left and he won't stop moving. I hear only the ticking of my watch and the crinkle of the paper as Matthew kicks his legs back and forth. The screaming boy serenade has died down, and the nurse enters. It's our turn.

The first vaccination is given orally, and my baby rewards the young nurse with smiles. That was easy. Now comes the hard part. I put my fingers in Matty's hands and he grips tightly. Does he hold on because he knows what's coming? No, it's only a reflex, but how appropriate. I wrap the rest of my hands around his little ones, and I bend down so I am face to face with him. The nurse swabs on the disinfectant, and from the look on Matty's face I know it's a little cold. Brace yourself, Baby. I should too. The first shot is given. Matthew is startled and still. The second one pokes his fleshy thigh as he gives out a cry like no other. The red face and tears say it all, but so does the high-pitched scream. I know he hurts, but I keep telling him it's ok. The third shot is done, and band-aids now adorn his legs. I hold back my own tears while he continues to cry. I hold him close, and he relaxes a little. But then he remembers that he had three shots, and he cries some more. It's ok, he's supposed to let me know when he's in pain. I'm here for you, baby. Once I get him back in the car, I hear a few whimpers from the back seat before he falls asleep. I have several errands I'd like to run, but I decide to get my baby home and comfortable.

Once home, I change another wet diaper and feed him, being careful not to press his thighs too much. With a clean diaper and full tummy, I am rewarded with this face by lunchtime.

Whew, we made it.