Jax turned 15 months old today and we celebrated with a trip to see her pediatrician for her Well Baby check-up. Of course the visit included shots, 3 of them (yup, we vaccinate) and a blood draw.
My poor, sweet girl cried her heart out. I know she remembers that horrible exam room from her last visit at 12 months because she clung to me and whimpered the moment we walked in, when just moments before she was happy and hamming it up in the lobby.
She wailed on the scale (I do too) and had a meltdown when they measured her. She’s a big healthy girl, weighing 28.1 pounds, in the 97th percentile for weight and she’s 30.5 inches putting her in the 53rd percentile for height. Way to go biggie!
She’s advanced with her vocabulary, speaking a total of 12 words that I can decipher. Mama, dada, ball, bubble, hi, bye, cat, meow (does that count?), bath, eat, no and stop.
She has 8 teeth and swollen gums in the back indicating molars are on their way.
Did I mention she got 4 needle pokes? I really hate having to hold her down while they stick her. She looks at me with these big, tortured eyes, so confused as to why I am letting them hurt her. I’m pretty sure I was equally traumatized, although I did not cry myself this time. Thankfully they always let me stay in the room as long as it takes to calm her, which is usually pretty quick if I nurse her. She’s such a strong, touch girl.
I really dislike going to her pediatrician’s office, he’s a wonderful man, but I freak about germs and dread the needle sticks. On the other hand, once I have managed to calm my hysterical baby (they let me stay in the room to nurse and soothe her) I always leave proud and smug at all the kudos I get for raising such a healthy, happy girl.
It’s a great feeling.