Mr. Pickle Gets His Shots

Brixton had to get his 4 month shots the other day.  We, being without health insurance (still), had to go to a clinic.  The clinic was clean and well-organized, with some of the friendliest healthcare workers I have ever seen.

There was a big main room were everyone filled out their paperwork and waited.  This was the room were the children played freely, happy smiles abounded, babies cooed and giggled.  Only the parents knew what was coming and despite the happiness of the children, a sense of dread filled the air.

Once your name was called you were ushered into a slightly smaller room, also with children, but these children were sad.  They had just been betrayed by the nice lady with the sticker, their mother, their aunt, pretty much the whole world.  This was obviously the room where the shots took place.

There was one boy there, in the big waiting room, about 7 years old.  He was Indian, his bright brown eyes smiling shyly at everyone.  His mother cooed over Brixton, then turned to her son and told him he was that small once too (maybe that's not at all what she said.  She was speaking another language, but it seemed like that was what she said.)  She seemed a little pensive and on edge.  

His number was called and he bounded happily into the "shot room."  Within 30 seconds it became abundantly clear that his well-intentioned mother had not told him the reason for his visit that day.  That kid screamed bloody murder.  He fought. He turned. He twisted.  It was funny and sad both at the same time.  All of us in the waiting room had the same look on our face: bemusement (shoot..is that a word?).  We felt bad for the kid, really bad, but at the same time the adult side of us thought it was funny because, after all, it's just a shot.  I know though if you have a phobia of needles, it's not just a shot, it's absolutely terrifying, so while I laughed, I also got all teared up for the kid.  And for Mr. Pickle who, of course, had no idea what was going on.

Mr. Pickle was screaming with glee, flirting with a surly European teen (who was totally in that baby-hating stage), smiling at other kids and just being the sweetest sweet pea.  His number was called and the two kindly ladies fussed over him a bit, he just soaked it up like a rock-star.  They checked out his gDiaper, as they were interested in how much cloth diapers have changed (those diapers leaked 4 times today..don't want to talk about it..grrrr).  He sat on my lap and sucked on his fingers.  And they poked him with needles and he opened his gummy mouth in the saddest baby scream that happened in that moment in the whole world.  His blue eyes scrunched up, filling with tears, as his body tensed.  All I could hear, all I could see was him looking at me, saying to me "Mommy, why? Mommy, why did you let them hurt me?"  

It's not unusual to tear up when your baby gets shots and this was proven by watching the reactions of the women who came in after me.  One young mother looked like she was watching a horror film staring her tiny baby, her small white hands covered her face, her eyes were so large and focused, then soft and blurry as the tears filled them in.  She looked around anxiously, willing herself to make eye contact with someone else, someone to reassure her that this is okay.  

Meanwhile, Brixton sucked on his paci, then consoled himself with copious gulps of his bottle.  His tears dried, his hand held my finger and somewhere between the waiting room and the car he found his trust for me again...at least for 2 more months when we have his 6 month shots..