Monday, July 9, 2007

Do babies dream of vengeance?

It’s been a week now, and it’s getting ever so slightly easier to drop Kaylee off at daycare in the mornings. The people there genuinely seem to like her, and she doesn’t come home hungry, filthy or otherwise in need of repair. For the most part, I can now leave her there with only slight twinges of guilt.

But not today. Today was rough.

I went to work for a while first thing this morning, but then had to pick Kaylee up from daycare to take her to her two-month well-child doctor’s visit.

The first part of the appointment went fine, with the doctor telling me that she looks just perfect and healthy. Then he sent in his henchman to do the dirty work.

I knew Kaylee was due for some vaccinations today, but I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to watch her get shots.

She was happy enough when the nurse came in, and she seemed mildly curious when he pinned her legs down. Then he gave her the first shot. The look on her little face went from surprise to confusion to pure, inconsolable anguish.

Never before have I wanted so badly to attack a health care professional. I wanted desperately to punch him in the face and tell him to STOP HURTING MY BABY. Instead, I waited impatiently while he administered three shots, cleaned the wounds and put bandages on her legs, and then I snatched her off the table and hugged her while she screamed in my ear and gave me a look that clearly said, “Why, Mommy? Why did you let that mean man hurt me????”

After the appointment, we sat in the car while she drank from a bottle and fell asleep in my arms. I very seriously considered calling it a day, taking her home and cuddling with her on the couch all afternoon.

Instead, I took her back to daycare and put her in her crib, exhausted from the traumatic morning and sticky from the Tylenol she refused to swallow. I hope she falls asleep again and spends the afternoon having dreams in which Mommy rescues her from the sadistic nurse, breaking his needles in half and chasing him, whimpering, from the room.

UPDATE: Just moments after I posted this, a woman from the daycare called to let me know that Kaylee's screaming and refusing her bottle, and they can't calm her down. It looks like I won't be getting over my daycare guilt today. Tomorrow's not looking good either.


pam said...

I'm pretty sure incidents like this are the reason we don't remember our infancy. That and the whole being born - I don't think we'd want to remember that as adults.

Heather McDonnell said...

I think you're right. The very first time I laid eyes on Kaylee, her lower lip was stuck out in a pout, quivering, like she couldn't understand why she'd been removed from her cozy, warm home. I'm glad she won't remember that very first betrayal.