Is there anything sadder than seeing your baby cry her eyes out when she gets a shot? Oh, how I am dreading tomorrow. Victor can’t handle it. And I don’t want him to have to. Because my heart breaks in two–and he is much sweeter than I am.
I am avoiding the government hospital. I don’t want them to give the baby the TB vaccine. It creates a scar on the arm from a huge blister that pops. And our doctor said that it was really an unnecessary vaccine due to our lifestyle. We got her Hepatitis B shot through the office, but they tend to get a little pricey. They are free through the government. So, we have debated bucking up and heading down to our local hospital for free vaccination
Victor said to me last night as we were discussing our options, “Jania, the baby is healthy. Why does she need to get a shot?” He didn’t have his shots when he was little. They lived out of town–and things like doctors were a commodity. In fact, he visited the neighbor day after day when he broke his arm. The neighbor would pull on the arm, and wrap it up. He had no medicine. No cast. And he can remember lying in bed crying at night. To this day, that arm is weaker–and you can feel the lump where the bone didn’t heal correctly.
He also had whooping cough and in his words was a “bad Mexican.” Good Mexicans don’t get sick. He was always sick. He shaved years off of his poor mama–causing her to worry about him with all of his mishaps. But he was lucky. She buried three other sweet babies who became sick.
So will we be getting the vaccines? You betcha. Because a moment of crying is so much better than the idea of living without my littlest love. Sigh.