...for me. Not for Matt. He was fine.
Toddler Matthew, formerly known as Baby Matthew, had his one-year checkup and immunizations today. I didn't anticipate it being too bad, since he's barely cried at getting his other shots, and I've also felt surprisingly not too bad through them.
The visit started out fine. Matt weighed in at a tiny 21.5 pounds. He was 17 pounds at 5 months! I guess it's the fact that he's pretty much running every minute of every day. I think he went from 75th percentile in weight to about 10th. His head size has evened out with his height and weight; before it was way bigger. He's pretty tall compared to other kids his age, I think still about 75th percentile for that. The doctor said he looks great. His development is excellent, still way ahead for his age. I always have to circle yes or no on a list of skills for what he can already do, and he can do everything on the 12- to 24-month sheet except for "speaking x number of words" (different questions start at 2 words, 3 words, etc, up to 6 words).
Then it was time for shots! Yay! First, the nurse had to draw blood from Matt's finger while I was holding him on my lap. I was explaining that I sometimes feel faint around needles, so she might need to get another nurse to hold him down for the actual shots. For those, he has to lay on the table instead of being held. So, anyway, the finger prick was fine. Matthew just watched the nurse stick him and looked at the blood with interest. I was watching his face, and he didn't seem affected at all other than looking curious at what was going on. I glanced at his finger, and it was bleeding kind of a lot. But not a big deal. I told the nurse I was feeling fine after all, but I'd still prefer if she got someone else to hold him down on the table. She left the room.
Matt looked around, looked at his bandaged finger, held his hand right up in my face and waved it around, smiling, and yanked off the two Band-Aids! Blood everywhere! Matthew giggled. And then waved his bleeding finger right in my face, with the super-bloody cotton-balled Band-Aid hanging half off of it. I instantly broke out in a cold sweat and started getting that blurry-on-the-edges vision that precedes passing out. I kept thinking, "Don't drop him. Don't drop him. Don't pass out. They'll be right back." I tried to put the Band-Aids back on, but Matthew kept ripping them back off. Such a fun game, right, Mom? At least he found it hilarious.
Finally, the nurses got back. One of them immediately took Matthew from me, and the other one helped me up and took me out of the room and started putting wet paper towels on me. And this was before I even said anything! My face is such a traitor. I tried to tell them I was fine, but they pretty much forced me to stay in this other room. I think I'd said about a hundred sentences in two minutes, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't making any sense.
Then Matt got his shots, and I went back in when I heard him crying. He cried about 15 seconds and even smiled at the nurses and made some happy babbling noises at them before we left. No hard feelings.
Who's the baby around here now?
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