So Heidi had her first set of immunisations this week. We were a little late to take her due to a minor scheduling error by yours truly, but it’s never been in doubt that Heidi will have every jab in the recommended NHS vaccination program.

So on Monday, I dressed her in the most impractical outfit imaginable (I’m talking tights and leggings) and off we went to the doctors. There she had the 5-in-1 (DTaP/IPV/Hib), PCV and Rotavirus vaccines - a delightful little cocktail that appears to have traumatised her ever since.

The two jabs and oral dose of Rotarix is to help protect Heidi from a plethora of scary sounding diseases that most people would be forgiven for thinking had all but died out in the Victorian times… diphtheria, tetanus, whooping cough, polio and Haemophilus influenzae type b (a bacterial infection that can cause severe pneumonia or meningitis). Given I have only a limited understanding of what these diseases are (and no desire to research them) I’d rather just book the appointment, turn up and deal with the inevitable fall-out.

Dexter took his first immunisations really well. He did the usual 20 second scream as metal met skin, but that evening he was his usual miserable self; no worse, no better. Call it a sixth sense, but I sensed things might be a little more tricky with Heidi. For a few weeks now she’s been too calm, too happy and too easy. I knew she couldn’t stay chilled-out forever and immunisations would give her a perfect excuse to exercise her lungs again.

I was right.

She had a quick GP check-up before seeing the evil nurse. In an over air-conditioned room, the doctor stripped her, poked her and flexed her limbs in ways that would make any parent wince, and yet Heidi flirted outrageously with him. She offered up tons of smiles and had the doctor wrapped around her little finger. His voice went up several octaves and he dribbled out all the usual much-ridiculed stream of baby-talk that has us all secretly cringing. We almost allowed ourselves to believe that Heidi would shrug off her impending appointment in the treatment room in the same way.

But she was lulling us into a false sense of security.

The nurse started with the oral Rotavirus vaccine. This is because babies are usually too pissed off by the jabs to sit still for the oral vaccine. As the nurse put the dropper to her lips, Heidi raised her eyebrows in disdain. Although she only had to swallow 1.5mls of clear liquid, it seems my daughter has inherited her mums obstinateness and we watched her spit out the lot when the nurse turned her back to prepare the vaccinations. I was too proud of her amused by it to speak up so kept quiet.

So, onto the main event.

The wide eyes and the lip wobbling began when the nurse started to tell Craig and I every single possible side effect of the vaccinations with the syringes primed in her hands. It was as though Heidi was following what the nurse was saying, or maybe she was just transfixed by needles the size of her entire leg in the nurse’s clutches. Even before the nurse delivered the injections Heidi was in full meltdown mode, complete with her first ever real tears and that awful breath-holding thing that stilts babies cries.

Any smidgen of comedy derived from the situation was shortlived. Just an hour later, there were no smiles on anybody’s faces in the Mill’s household. Heidi was hysterical and inconsolable. We pulled out all the big guns and hours worth of rocking, face-stroking and “I know’s” ensued. She didn’t recover from the experience that night, she just screamed herself to sleep.

It’s now Thursday and she’s only just showing signs of feeling better. If I didn’t know any better, Heidi appears to be holding a grudge that we’d allowed such an ordeal to have taken place. Her temperature only flares when she’s treating us to hysterics so I suspect these occasions are brought on by her tantrums rather than anything more sinister - but we’ve still offered her her first tastes of Calpol over the last few days.

***

Oh Heidi-Bum - I am not looking forward to round 2. I feel like I’ve had a taster of what things might look like in 13 years time when you discover boys and make-up, and encounter just how immovable mummy and daddy might have to be.

I hate having to put you through all this, and I know you might think mummy and daddy have let you down, but it sure beats the hell out of having your limbs fall off, or getting a innocent looking rash that could land you in hospital, or worse.

Always and forever, any pain you experience is also experienced by mummy and daddy. That will never change, and will still be the case when you read this very post in ten years time. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry, and it won’t be the last - just know that every painful, sad or unjust event you have to go through is always for the greater good. Had you not gone through the bad times you have so far, things could have been much uglier.

For now, just give us your smiles back, and maybe a few early nights. When it all kicks off again in 4 weeks time, mummy will be right there with you to hold your hand.

Love you baby girl,

Mummy xxx