Monday was shot day. Sadly, it wasn’t the kind of shots that might take away pain, in fact, it was quiet the opposite.
The whole doctors visit was going well. He’s just a hair under 15lbs, he’s in the 80th% for his height and weight(you know, one day I’m going to look up what that means, but by the look on the doctors face, I assume it’s good) and generally in good health. Because he’s a premi, they do this adjusted age thing where, for development purposes, they say he was born on Nov 1st, not Sept 22nd. And they keep this up for the first 18 months. Sure, whatever. Well, the doc thinks we can drop this after the 6 month mark. He’s well advanced for his adjusted age, and is acting more like a 4 month old. No, it’s still too early to consider skipping grades in school, but it’s a good start to his life.
He’s still eating like a 2.5 month old, but that’s ok for now.
So yea, the visit was going well. But at some point Liam lost it. He was being examined and just freaked the hell out. And while the doctor was trying to explain something, Liam just couldn’t be consoled, so we brought in the nurse to get things over with. I held him, Tara held his legs, and the nurse shot him. Well, if Liam had considered calming down, he threw that out. Then I had to adjust him for the other leg. It was at this point that the nurse told me “This one is worse” Right, how much worse could it be?
I held him, Tara held his legs, and I waited for Liams head to explode or something. I wasn’t that far off. The nurse left, we bundled him up, and by the time we got to the hallway, he was quiet again.
These shots are gonna be the death of me.