Barney had his jabs today. Our once lovely untouched boy now full of immunisation. At least it means I’ll be able to take him swimming soon. He’s a real water baby, just like his mum and dad.
On entering the nurse’s room she looked at Barney and asked “this is his first set, he is 8 weeks, yes?“. In other words, “my what a big boy you have there”. Big, healthy and strong is what I think she meant to say.
All was going well so far. His thighs would be the target so I stripped off his bottom half. He smiled thinking it was a nappy change. Oh, if only he was right.
The nurse explained what each injection was. Three in the thighs and one by mouth. All I could think of was the inevitable screams and very grouchy baby later that day.
“Just hold tightly, bend his knee, I want a nice chunky piece of thigh“.
“Ready“, she asked looking at me. Never mind me, ready Barney?
Without hesitation in she went. This was polio, I believe. He looked at me, his eyes opened wide and he let out an almighty scream. A pain scream. That’s a scream I won’t forget. Tears streamed down his cheek. The last time he screamed like this was when his right bollock was caught in his nappy (see post below). But this was louder. I could imagine those in the waiting room grimace at the noise of a young newborn hollering in pain. She opened her drawer, pulled out a noisy bell rattle and shook it by his ear to try and distract him from the pain. It was counterproductive and it only made him cry harder.
In she went again. This time meningitis. My once healthy child being pumped with disease. It was a hard watch. The tears came quickly and the cries louder. And out came that rattle.
“I’ll need his other thigh“.
In she went again. This time rubella. Poor, poor boy. He really was not happy. And as for that bloody rattle.
He looked at me each time as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing to me mum’. His eyes were very red. You can imagine his dear little mind wondering how many more times this is going to happen. The needles were long and thick, it must have been painful. The next was administered orally. I’m not sure what disease this was, I was past caring about the drugs and only worried about comforting our traumatised baby.
Now it was my turn to administer a drug but a nice one, Calpol. I remember as a child it’s sweet strawberry taste, and the smell took me right back. This would make him feel much better, right? The nurse told me to empty the syringe slowly into the corner of his mouth. The syringe seemed to get stuck so I pressed down hard with my thumb. The whole lot shot into his mouth in one go. Crap! He cried. Mummy…. you had one job.
I carried him to the car and he soon fell asleep. Perhaps he would fall into the 50% category of babies who sleep after their jabs.
Ah, not quite. That afternoon when he wasn’t sleeping he was screaming. I could do little to comfort him in between rocking him and some very loud shhhh’s against his head. At one point I cried with him. He spent the whole afternoon and evening on me and would cry when I put him down. We were very fortunate that his Auntie T came over and cooked us dinner, re-lit the fire that had gone out and fed the cats. It is completely impossible to do anything with a grouchy, emotional and tired 8 week old baby nestled into your chest. In fact make that two of us, I too was feeling very grouchy and emotional come the evening.
We have his next set in two weeks time when the whole process is repeated. Fortunately it’ll only be one jab in the thigh and mummy will be much better prepared, I hope!
Barney recovering from his ordeal, 16/03/17
One Mum on a Rock 
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