Taking it Like a Man

I took my son in for his five-year-old checkup today.  This was a necessity that I had been dreading and had put off for over a month already.  I knew that he would need at least two shots to be up-to-date for kindergarten.  It turned out that he needed three.  Sitting through those shots was harder than I could have imagined.  Why?  Because he took it like a man.


This isn’t my first time around the block.  I have three kids, which means I have seen my children suffer through a combined total of what…50 shots?  Who knows...a LOT.  At two months old my daughter didn’t even cry after her shots.  She was a complete trooper!  Being a brand-new parent, I allowed myself to take some pride in that.  But a few years down the road she was near to developing a full-on phobia of needles.  After one memorable appointment that involved multiple people holding her down on the exam table against her will, I knew I would have to do something before the next round.  


So when it was time for her kindergarten shots, I had done all of my research and planned ahead.  I gave her Tylenol an hour before.  I called ahead to the doctor’s office, explained about the developing phobia, and came 20 minutes early so that they could apply numbing cream to her legs.  I coaxed her to blow air out during her shot.  Anything I found that was supposed to help, I did.  And while she still fought every step of the way, we got through it; her fear even seems to have decreased since then.  Because that’s what you do as a parent:  when you know something is critical for your child’s well-being and you know that she is going to fight it, you dig down and find your iron will, put your own feelings aside, and get through it. 


It came as quite a surprise to find that it was harder with my son because he didn't fight it.  He doesn’t like shots, but he has never developed a strong fear of them.  For his flu shot this year he said “I’ll cry if I get a shot!”  But when the time came, he laughed through it.  Still, shots hurt.  And he doesn’t like them.  I knew that I would have to endure watching him suffer multiple shots today, and I knew he wouldn’t fight them.  And with no resistance, there is nothing for me to steel my iron will against.  There is no problem to be researched and defeated.  There is no parenting victory to be had.  There is nothing to distract from his suffering.  There is just sitting in the doctor’s office while your son says “OW!” repeatedly, and then finally crumples into you in tears.  He took it like a man…and it turns out that was the hardest to take.