Ah! Giant Pointy Needles!

Elizabeth went for her two-month doctor visit yesterday and she did beautifully. She is the picture of health. And, might I add that she was very, very brave when she got her first shots.

The whole process involved her getting stuck with three needles in her little chubby legs. The nurse does this (I don't blame the doctor for not wanting to inflict pain on her tiny patients) and she does it very quickly. Boom, boom, boom - we're done. Naturally, Elizabeth cried when she was stuck, but she was able to calm down pretty quickly afterwards and, with the help of some grape-flavored infant Tylenol for her pain, was back to her normal, cheery self within a few hours.

Now, I absolutely hate needles. I hate getting stuck with them, watching other people getting stuck with them, or even just looking at them. I was sorry that Lizzie had to get three little shots in her thighs, but I also felt that the benefits of being immunized against life-threatening diseases outweighed the momentary unpleasantness of the needle thing. I resolved to give her kisses, to talk to her, and hold her hand while the nurse was doing her thing. Shawn was also there to offer her moral support. But, I was surprised when the nurse asked me if I wanted to leave the room before she administered the shots.

"Leave?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yes," she explained, " sometimes the moms want to leave while I give the shots."

Oh. My. God. There was no way in Hell that I was leaving my daughter in a room to get stuck by needles while I waited outside the door to listen to her screams. What kind of horrible moms are these?! How could you ask for needles to be poked into your child and then leave her alone when it was time to poke her with said needles? Maybe I've been idealizing motherhood, but I always thought that moms were supposed to be made of tougher stuff than that. If we can't look our children in the eyes and say to them, "I know this hurts, but it's for your own good," how can we be effective moms? Aren't moms the ones who are supposed to stand next to you in hard times and help you bear the horrible, crappy things that life throws your way. If we moms can't stand to see our children get pricked with needles, then how can be the kind of women of strength and character that they deserve?

I'm not trying to be all high and mighty. I know it's hard to see your child in pain, but isn't that what parenting is all about; making choices that are difficult and unpopular all while saying, "I'm here for you and love you very much?"

-- Lisa