I was a weenie.

I have a pain in my chest.

It hurts.
It stings.
It aches.

It's caused by this:

She makes my heart, just... well.... she makes my heart crazy.

Yesterday, the wee one had her four month appointment.  After weighing her and giving her the once over, they instructed me to put her on the bed and to hold her hands so that they could administer her two vaccinations.  Now, I've given plenty of vaccinations to cattle.  Lots of 'em.  But when it's your child it's much different than a squirmy, hairy little calf.  I shuttered inside.  It's so hard already, as a parent, to see my child in pain....even if I know it is for her good.  I knew I had to do it.  But it was tough. 

Shaye, quit being a weenie.  You can do this.
Oh, but sad, she is going to cry and it's going to hurt her!
Shaye, quit being a weenie.  You are a weenie.

I imagine this is somewhat like spanking.  You don't want to do it - but you know it's for their benefit.  Discipline is a blessing.  Discipline benefits the child, it teaches them.  It helps grow them in the way they should go.  And shots?  Well, shots just stink.

So there I stood, grasping the fingers of my poor precious babe.  She lay, smiling, cooing...and then those danged nurses, they just did it.  They didn't let me prepare.  No remorse.  No comforting.  They didn't even say "It's okay, Mom, it will only be a short little poke."  I needed some consolation, man.

As my little one lay crying in my arms, I did they only thing I knew to do.
I was strong for her, like a good parent should be.  I was brave.  Valiant.  A warrior.

That's a lie.
I cried.
I did.  I admit it.
A few tears trickled down my pathetic cheeks as I dressed her back in her little onesie.  She had tears too...real ones.  Pain filled ones.  Ones that even a Scooby-Doo band-aid couldn't cure.

I know I need to learn to be strong.

I know that the Lord will give me strength to get through these rough child-rearing days.

I know that I'm not a bad Mom for allowing her to feel this pain.

But dang it.  Look at that little bug. 

I would rope the moon for her if I could.

She was fine, after it all.  But I was a weenie.

The end.