OH MY GOD BABY P GETTING HER SHOTS AND HARRY STARTING TO CRY WHEN SHE DOES BECAUSE SHES A DADDYS GIRL AND HE HATES WHEN HIS BABY GIRL CRIES
Why must you do this to me?
He’s nervous. His palms are sweating, his stomach is twisting and making him feel sick, and the smell of the hospital is making him feel woozy and a little light-headed as he sits beside his wife in a chair that wasn’t as comfortable as it looked. And he’s not sure why he’s so nervous because he’s wasn’t the one who was scheduled to be poked and prodded by needles for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. His tiny daughter, just freshly turned eight weeks old, bundled up and tucked beneath a blanket as he rocked the car-seat with his foot.
“I feel sick,” he murmurs quietly, looking around at the expectant mothers and fathers who were there for a check-up, his eyes falling on a brand-new baby boy, who must have been days old and snoozing in his mother’s arms, “needles makes me feel funny.”
“Stop being so silly,” she squeezes his knee, reaching over to tuck the blanket, a little tighter, around Persephone, “you’re not the one being vaccinated, are you? You’ve been through all that. I don’t think you have anything to worry about right now.”
“But she’s so small.”
“Exactly. She’s so small and incredibly vulnerable to diseases and whatnot. Once we get this over with, she’ll be fine for a few weeks before we bring her back in,” she looks at him as he worries his lip, chewing nervously on the flesh and making the skin look pained and inflamed, “this is just something that happens.”
He sighs softly and gulps. Eyes wandering around the waiting room, lingering on a particularly boat that was painted on a wall of sky-blue, ears perking to the sound of scuffing shoes going across the linoleum floor, slightly glittered and glistening under the bright lights above them. Nurses walking passed in blue scrubs, clipboards in their hands, as they disappeared around the corner. He can still feel the comforting hand of his wife upon his knee but it’s not enough to settle the tingling in his stomach and all he wants to do is pick up his daughter, cradle her close to his chest, and run without looking back.
The practice nurse is already looking in their direction. A soft smile on her lips as she watches the missus stand to her feet, picking up her bag and the coat she’d set on the floor beside her feet, draping one over her forearm and comfortably adjusting the strap, of the other, on her shoulder. Harry’s hand wrapping and holding tightly around the handle of Persephone’s carrier as she startles awake at the sudden motion. Green eyes looking at her surroundings as he slowly follows the two ladies down the hallway.
Introductions being exchanged before he’s even entered the room. Making a dart towards the chair by the chair opposite the desk of the room and placing the carrier by his feet, tearing away the warmth that covered her and setting it over his knees before unclipping the straps that kept her in place. Lifting her up and setting her on his lap.
“We’ll give her a short check-up to see how she’s progressing and then we’ll get set onto giving her these immunisations. You can relax for now. I know that some parents find it difficult. You wouldn’t be the first set of brand-new parents who don’t like seeing their little one in pain,” the nurse explains, “if you want to follow me, bring her with you, and we’ll see how she’s doing. She’s absolutely gorgeous, by the way.”
He stands back with his wife, arm slung across her shoulders as she snuggles against his side, watching as their daughter, laid comfortably as she went through her check-up, careless and unfazed by what was happening around her. Putting Harry at ease… until he saw a trolley being pushed into the room with a set of jabs about to pumped into his daughter.
And he can barely keep the stray tears at bay once his daughter starts crying. The stings being applied to her arms making her feel uncomfortable and pained and sore and it takes everything in him not to push away the nurses hand as she edges closer to the second needle. His daughter curled up in his elbow, resting in his lap, as his free hand squeezed the missus’ hand as tight as he could without hurting her. His fingers, aimlessly and ever so gently, patting her bum as her mewls turned into full blown cries. Face scrunching up and her cheeks becoming wet from the tears falling from her pinched up eyes.
“We’re almost done, sweetheart. Just a couple more and then you can have a good snuggle with your mummy and daddy,” the nurse coos softly, taking one glance at Harry as he sniffed and wiggled his nose to remove the tickle of a tear building up, “you wouldn’t be surprised how many new fathers have a cry when their little one has their jabs. You’re not the only one, mister Styles.”
“It’s hard to see her like this,” he chuckles lightly, his eyes rimmed red as he looked from the nurse to his wife, “I think you can come and do it on your own next time. Take my sister or your mum with you or something. I can’t cope. This,” he puffs out a breath as the nurse pushes the final needle into his daughter’s arm, “this is too hard. I hate seeing her like this.”
There’s a quiet tinkle as the practice nurse sets the empty needles aside. The wheels of the metal trolley squeaking and rattling as she moved them aside to stand up.
“If I just get you to stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes, just to make sure there’s no immediate reaction to the vaccinations, then we’ll let the three of you go. She’s all good now until her 12-week injections. Not as many as today, the little trooper did so good, but she’ll still need them done,” she drops the gloves to the top of the trolley and smiles, “I think she just needs a nice cuddle. She did really well.” xx