*nod* This time, I told M that we were going to go get him shots (which turned out to be a lie, actually. He didn't.). I'm planning to do so for the next ones as well. I'm hoping that the lure of doing something he likes afterward will be enough.

I used to give Tylenol beforehand, but having read that it reduces effectiveness, I don't anymore. A didn't seem to mind hers this round, which rather astonished me. Squealing during, and some fussiness after, but over all, not much change from her usual cry hard/laugh hard self.


M needed a blood draw at less than two weeks old, and I remember thinking that this would be the hardest thing I'd do as a mother. Especially because it took them more than one attempt. I stood there, and helped hold him down, and made soothing noises while feeling like I was betraying his infant trust in me. I wanted to cry, I wanted to snatch my baby up and take him away from the mean people...and not doing that, re-asserting rationality, and knowing that doing it this first time was going to set the pattern for all the rest? (There was a lot more at the hospital, but this was the one that I was voluntarily present for. All the rest, I'd been kept away from.)

It doesn't gut me anymore, but rewriting it had me shaking a bit, and wanting to cry all over again.

But what you described? Oh, dear. I think I'd have to rethink whether that first draw was the hardest. Poor Emer. Poor Ailbhe.