Today was a rough day for both parents and baby. Today was the day that little son went in for his aged 2 month wellness check-up, and his first round of vaccines. No one wants to see their little one in any amount of pain, but though there are many that would disagree with me, I find vaccinations to be incredibly important. I’m a little old school in my thinking, and I much prefer my children to be illness free and alive. If there’s a chance they’ll become autistic because of the vaccines, then so be it. At least I’ll have them still with me.
But I’m not here to bash anti-vaxxers, or to fight for the reason why I am pro-vaccines. I am here because my little boy took two needles to the legs today, and I can assure you, it was much harder on me and his daddy than on him. They stuck him, he shouted out his “it hurts!” cry, and as soon as I picked him up when they were done, he quieted down. My heart still hurts when I think about the cry he made, but as he was smiling before we even left the office, I knew he would be just fine.
At 2 months old, our little man weighs at a staggering 13lbs 13oz, and at 24 inches long, putting him in the 82nd percentile for weight and the 97th percentile for height. His oldest sister, the soft daughter, was also in the higher percentiles, and she’s now much taller than most of her class, and it seems her baby brother is determined to follow in her footsteps. As always, his pediatrician has given him the description of “perfect” because he’s growing in beautiful ranges. She was, however, shocked that he eats 6oz of breastmilk or formula every 3-4 hours. Apparently, that’s a lot more than what most babies his age eats.
Yes, he’s breastfed, but no, I don’t believe it’s because of the milk that he’s as big and healthy as he is. His older sisters were mostly formula fed and they were both big and strong, healthy babies. I am blessed, as I’ve known many people who weren’t so lucky and I count my lucky stars every day for giving me these healthy children. I could never imagine what other parents go through with struggles in babies who fight to stay alive for their first months of life. Babies who are also breastfed. Babies with much better mothers than I.
So now, we fight through the weekend with our little man, hoping his fevers don’t come or if they do, they stay low. We fight with the weapons of infant tylenol and motrin to keep his pain levels down, as one of the shots was the dreaded tetanus vaccine. We fight to keep him happy and comforted so he doesn’t notice how well he doesn’t feel. And meanwhile, I fight against the postpartum depression that wants to drag me down for letting my little dude get this way. Despite knowing it’s what’s best for him, I can’t always use logic to fight back the disease that’s always threatening to take me over. Some days, the only thing that keeps me going is the soft love in his little eyes and the smiles he gives me.
It’s going to be a long weekend, but I think we’ll make it through. Because in the end, I know he’s not going to get these diseases that should have been long eradicated. In the end, he’s safe.