My Thoughts on Vaccines
Last Friday we had our son's two month doctor's appointment. This was the appointment where he would get his first round of shots. My husband and I were both anxious about it. We greatly struggled with the idea of getting the shots. We did not give Zion the HepB shot in the hospital so this truly would be his first round. We talked and talked and prayed and prayed. When we pulled up to the office, my husband took my hand and we prayed again. When we left the car, I still was not sure what would happen in the doctor's office. We were still unsure what the right decision was. This is our precious baby boy we are talking about. It's not some far off debate for us. Like so many other parents, we are living this. In real time, we have to make decisions for our child that could have massive implications.
Cut to the actual appointment. I am walking Zion around the room because he's a little fussy at being mostly unclothed and starting to get hungry. Our doctor started explaining to us the shots that would be given today and the schedule they would be given on and what we could expect our beautiful baby to act like in the following days. I looked at my husband, with a look that said, "Are we doing this?" My husband sighed big and said, "Ok. I'm just worried about this. It's my boy ya know?" The doctor reassured us that he loved kids and if there was any cause for him to have any concerns at all, he would not give the shots. So with that and trust in the Lord, we waited for the nurse to come in and give our baby his shots.
Our kid - true to form - took his shots like a champ. Sure, he cried and generally acted upset at the doctor, but he was also hungry. Once he got some food in him, we passed out and stayed that way until we got home.
Once we got home (we have an hour drive from the doctor to home) I could tell he didn't feel like himself. He wasn't running fever, but he had this sad sounding cry that I can only describe as a whimper. He nursed longer than normal and still acted upset after he was done. After trying all the normal ways that I do to comfort him, I decided to try a warm bath. The doctor said that would most likely help more than anything with the soreness in his legs. As soon as I got him in the bath, I could tell it started to help him immediately. He started smiling and cooing again almost instantly. With tears in my eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief. The heart break I experienced from knowing that the pain my son was feeling was just something he had to go through overflowed from my heart and fell down my cheeks.
Now I believe that my son's spirit understands things that his mind cannot yet. For this reason, I tell him Bible stories, speak destiny over him, tell him about the Lord, and just generally care about the atmosphere I have him in. As he's splashing and cooing in the bath, I started to explain to him the events of the day. I told him he went to the doctor and he got shots, and that those shots are supposed to help him to not get sick. While I can tell he felt better, I can also tell he didn't feel completely normal. His legs, which are typically kicking a mile a minute, were cautiously still. I so badly wanted him to understand what was happening and why he was hurting. I wanted him to know there was a reason he was hurting. There was a good purpose behind his pain. I wanted him to understand this pain, as all encompassing as it felt, was only temporary. I wanted him to know his dad and I didn't arrive at this decision lightly, and that we would never let him hurt if it wasn't something we thought was completely necessary and so much better for him than the pain he would have to endure to get there. As I locked eyes with my blue-eyed baby boy, I said, "Son, sometimes your dad and I are going to allow you to hurt, because it's better. It will be better."
In that moment, my heart understood something my brain had for quite some time. Sometimes life gives us shots. Sometimes the pain it brings causes us to be cautiously still. Sometimes our smile and talk fall victim to an experience that we cannot express. Sometimes all the comforts that have worked in the past just fall short in bringing relief. What my heart knows now is that in that moment, I have a Father who washes me with the warm, comforting waters of His word. He baths me with His songs of deliverance. As I lie there, whimpering and unable to make sense of what is taking place to me, my Father's heart is breaking because He better than anyone understands that this is something I have to go through. He longs for me to understand that there is a reason I am hurting. There is a good purpose behind the pain. He wants me to understand that this pain that feels all encompassing is only temporary. He longs for me to know that He doesn't take letting me hurt lightly and He would never let it happen unless he thought what the pain achieved would be worth enduring that pain to get there. And if in that hurt state, I would have the courage to look up, I would find myself locking eyes with my Father and hear Him saying to me, "Daughter, sometimes I allow you to hurt, because it's better. It will be better."
Cut to the actual appointment. I am walking Zion around the room because he's a little fussy at being mostly unclothed and starting to get hungry. Our doctor started explaining to us the shots that would be given today and the schedule they would be given on and what we could expect our beautiful baby to act like in the following days. I looked at my husband, with a look that said, "Are we doing this?" My husband sighed big and said, "Ok. I'm just worried about this. It's my boy ya know?" The doctor reassured us that he loved kids and if there was any cause for him to have any concerns at all, he would not give the shots. So with that and trust in the Lord, we waited for the nurse to come in and give our baby his shots.
Our kid - true to form - took his shots like a champ. Sure, he cried and generally acted upset at the doctor, but he was also hungry. Once he got some food in him, we passed out and stayed that way until we got home.
Once we got home (we have an hour drive from the doctor to home) I could tell he didn't feel like himself. He wasn't running fever, but he had this sad sounding cry that I can only describe as a whimper. He nursed longer than normal and still acted upset after he was done. After trying all the normal ways that I do to comfort him, I decided to try a warm bath. The doctor said that would most likely help more than anything with the soreness in his legs. As soon as I got him in the bath, I could tell it started to help him immediately. He started smiling and cooing again almost instantly. With tears in my eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief. The heart break I experienced from knowing that the pain my son was feeling was just something he had to go through overflowed from my heart and fell down my cheeks.
Now I believe that my son's spirit understands things that his mind cannot yet. For this reason, I tell him Bible stories, speak destiny over him, tell him about the Lord, and just generally care about the atmosphere I have him in. As he's splashing and cooing in the bath, I started to explain to him the events of the day. I told him he went to the doctor and he got shots, and that those shots are supposed to help him to not get sick. While I can tell he felt better, I can also tell he didn't feel completely normal. His legs, which are typically kicking a mile a minute, were cautiously still. I so badly wanted him to understand what was happening and why he was hurting. I wanted him to know there was a reason he was hurting. There was a good purpose behind his pain. I wanted him to understand this pain, as all encompassing as it felt, was only temporary. I wanted him to know his dad and I didn't arrive at this decision lightly, and that we would never let him hurt if it wasn't something we thought was completely necessary and so much better for him than the pain he would have to endure to get there. As I locked eyes with my blue-eyed baby boy, I said, "Son, sometimes your dad and I are going to allow you to hurt, because it's better. It will be better."
In that moment, my heart understood something my brain had for quite some time. Sometimes life gives us shots. Sometimes the pain it brings causes us to be cautiously still. Sometimes our smile and talk fall victim to an experience that we cannot express. Sometimes all the comforts that have worked in the past just fall short in bringing relief. What my heart knows now is that in that moment, I have a Father who washes me with the warm, comforting waters of His word. He baths me with His songs of deliverance. As I lie there, whimpering and unable to make sense of what is taking place to me, my Father's heart is breaking because He better than anyone understands that this is something I have to go through. He longs for me to understand that there is a reason I am hurting. There is a good purpose behind the pain. He wants me to understand that this pain that feels all encompassing is only temporary. He longs for me to know that He doesn't take letting me hurt lightly and He would never let it happen unless he thought what the pain achieved would be worth enduring that pain to get there. And if in that hurt state, I would have the courage to look up, I would find myself locking eyes with my Father and hear Him saying to me, "Daughter, sometimes I allow you to hurt, because it's better. It will be better."
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