It’s supposed to be a jab taken at 12 months old. But due to our busy schedule, we delayed it till now, a month late, which is alright. So what immunization is it today? MMR, which stands for Measles, Mumps & Rubella. It’s compulsory by law. And then there’s the one for Chicken Pox, which is optional.
So here goes… it was a nice breezy morning, and we changed little milkie and brought her out. The grandparents were already out by then. I knew I had to be prepared and so I brought a little more biscuits (the Gerber star-shaped biscuits for toddlers) than usual, in the hope that food can distract her. Of course, she didn’t know where we are going.
When we reached Mount Alvernia, there wasn’t much luck to park the car and so I had to bring little milkie down on my own first, with her bag. Seriously, I hadn’t try doing that before on my own, but I know I didn’t have the luxury to have a company when it’s just the lil’ hub and me alone, and he’s got to go park the car at the reservoir. So, carrying little milkie in one arm, and the other shoulder with my bag, I took the lift and went up to the clinic.
As usual, the nurse took her weight, height and circumference of her head. And as USUAL, she cried like nobody’s business. I had to pacify her with the bag of biscuits and bread before she decided to call it quits. Well, but it’s a relief to know that the she’s at the 75th percentile for the circumference of her head instead of at the 95th previously, which means, we can’t call her “BIG HEAD” anymore! Oops, it’s not me!
Okay, back to her day…
And so we waited, and when it’s finally our turn to go in, sensing something is wrong right after we went in, she started crying when the doctor approached her (to hear her heartbeat). I supposed the doctor realized that she probably won’t have any issue with the beating of the heart, he proceeded to signal us to put her on the bed where it’s screaming and crying after that.
It’s bad. It’s as if someone was trying to kill you, and you cried and begged for help but to no avail. She tried kicking her legs but they were both held down (same goes for the hands) so that the doctor can inject it quickly and not so painfully. She cried even louder when the needle poked in. Ouch. No wonder my mum never like to watch this. Luckily she stopped almost immediately once I carried her over. The power of a mother? *LOL* Of course, that goes well even better with some snacks on hand. But we do know one thing now. When someone is trying to “kill” you, toys definitely doesn’t help, and neither is food.
See you, Dr Simon, in another 3 months time… *Poor little milkie* Who invented all these injections anyway…