Who has time to read the whole book? I read the last four chapters. Well, skimmed. Enough to gather that I should be worried about aluminum in vaccines, and enough to find the two schedules the doc recommends — one very conservative one for when he’s beseeching anti-vax parents to consider a few, and one less conservative but still alternative to the rather aggressive schedule the American Academy of Pediatrics (or whatever they call themselves) prescribes.
I took the book with me to our 8-week appointment.
First we talked. And weighed the boy. 9 pounds 10 ounces. Doing just fine. That bump I found behind his ear is a swollen lymph node, or possibly a benign cyst. (Did I mention how the “calm” thing is ironic?)
I showed the doc the middle-way schedule, which he approved, although he’s concerned that separate vaccines for measles, mumps, and rubella (rather than the controversial combo vaccine MMR) no longer exist. Fortunately, they weren’t part of today’s dose.
On this day, we would get two vaccines then (rather than five). One oral — Rotavirus, one shot — DTaP.
The pediatrician left the room and a few moments later, the nurse came in with the tray of stuff.
We started with the oral. A little plastic envelope-like bubble packet of fluid. My baby was lying on the table, looking up at me with the biggest widest most trusting blue eyes as he chugged down on the liquid.
I was panicking.
The nurse, sensing my obvious discomfort, was chatting away. Oh, don’t worry mama. This is very sweet. He likes this, see?
My fear was taking over my brain. Over the top. Highest gear anxiety. It felt like this nice man was using sugar to poison my dear sweet pure vulnerable child.
Why couldn’t I feel the other way? Like maybe grateful for advances in medicine that enable me to protect my child from disease. I would probably be a lot happier if vaccination meant taking my child out into the woods to have a shaman wave a feather over his head.
I’m really not that informed about the risks. I kinda put my trust in the kindly Dr. Sears — the little bit I’d read — and the idea I’ve always had that some vax makes sense.
The shot came next, and frankly, the idea that the needle might have hurt him was NOTHING compared to the freaking I was doing about putting chemicals into my baby.
He was fine after. Nursed, slept.
I was still a mess. It was raining outside, and freezing cold. I’d done my best that day to layer him up — we don’t actually have winter clothes for him, and my one attempt at buying such, a fleece thingy from Chez Gap, I bought in the wrong size. Plus he’d pooped and peed on two outfits already, but veteran mom that I am, I even had more clothes in the diaper bag. So thus layered in cotton and buried under a fluffy blanket in the baby bucket, he was sleeping.
I decided that if there was an easy parking space outside the neighborhood used baby clothes store, I would stop. A tiny detour on the way home.
There was a space right out front.
I deposited sleeping baby-in-bucket near the register of the tiny boutique and scoured the 0-3 months rack. Another mom and baby were there. She recognized me from prenatal yoga. I mentioned to her, and saleswoman, that we had just come back from our vax appointment, and that I was a bit wrecked. Yoga mom didn’t say anything, in that thick silent way that leads me to assume she’s in the anti-vax camp (a HUGE camp in the bay area), though I didn’t inquire.
I found two plaid flannel shirts — one red, one blue, some beige velour overalls, a cream zip-up wool sweater with t-shirt material lining and deep red snowflake pattern below the collar. All for 30 bucks. Kind of going to be dressing my boy like a butch lesbian, which is also a big camp in the bay area.
As I was paying for the clothes the saleswoman offered, “I read a lot of books on vaccination and in the end, every one still recommended doing it.”
I appreciated the clothes and the sympathy.
* * *
Meta:
I’ve been afraid to write about this experience because vaccination is a very hot topic, and I haven’t wanted to open myself up to criticism. I’m already critical enough of myself for my choices. But then I couldn’t write for two days. So here I am, coming out as a vaccinator.
The baby has been very fussy since the appointment, more trouble sleeping than usual. But otherwise seems to be fine, as far as immediate side effects go.
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