22nd September 2015 was when I entered into the new phase of motherhood. As I held the tiny bundle of joy in my arms after a difficult C-section, everything else felt inconsequential. In a while, the pediatrician came for his round of duty and this was when he spoke about the importance of vaccination for newborn babies. My husband, also a doctor by profession, listened carefully as the pediatrician explained the vaccination chart to us. But I was crestfallen since I couldn’t even bear the thought of my newborn being pricked by a needle.
The next couple of weeks were all about getting adjusted to this new schedule of life. My focus area had shifted to understanding the importance of WHO-recommended exclusive breastfeeding for six months and surviving the state of being perennially sleep-deprived. I was lucky to be surrounded by an understanding and supportive family to help me cope up with this sudden change that was not just physical but psychological as well.
Amidst such a chaotic routine, reality dawned on me as my infant turned six weeks. The first vaccination was due and the nervous mother in me overtook the rational individual that I was normally known to be. It was at my husband’s insistence that we decided to visit the pediatrician. As I spoke my heart out, the empathetic and knowledgeable doctor emphasized the importance of vaccination in the life of a newborn baby.
He discussed with us in length about how vaccines functioned in protecting babies against life-threatening diseases like Hepatitis B, Diphtheria, Pertussis, Polio, etc. The pediatrician was patient enough to dig deeper into my worries about having to inflict pain on my boy with multiple Injections. It was at this point that he mentioned the concept of combination vaccines which greatly reduce the number of shots that a baby requires. He spoke about how the acellular aspect of this vaccine is what makes it a less painful option while the vaccines before it led to a lot of discomfort and pain in babies.
After a thought-provoking post yesterday, I thought of getting back to recollecting a few more hilariously unavoidable misadventures in the admission season. As we draw near to the finishing line in this challenge. I am often left baffled at the thought of the next topic in this series. Today I was wondering if there was anything more I could write about that has already not been mentioned in any of my earlier posts. I suddenly remembered those scary sleepless nights that became a part of my life for the first quarter of this year and brought my writing to a standstill.
The admission season, as mentioned in my first post started in September 2018 and was officially declared closed only in March 2019. The first three months of this season were all about standing in queues to pick up forms, submit them and then attend the interviews held in this duration at a couple of schools. I would say that we managed to sail through this period despite the turbulence the boy managed to create through his resistance towards the process initially. His preschool had declared winter break from December 25th until January 4th.
In the second week of January, Tuneer returned from his preschool with a sore throat. Ever since he had started preschool, it had become a routine for the boy to fall sick at least twice every alternate month. If I ever brought up my concern of his poor immunity (I was of the opinion that his resistance towards diseases was getting lower because of falling sick so frequently), both the medico husband and the kid’s pediatrician enlightened me with their knowledge about the boy’s developing immune system. I had somehow managed to keep the boy fit and fine enough to glide through the months of November and December but all my efforts went in vain as he developed his first viral infection of this year in January.
From a sore throat, he went on to develop pharyngitis, cold and cough and high fever. This was his usual pattern of falling sick, step by step. Before I went back to calling the pediatrician seeking his appointment yet again, my heart skipped a beat as I thought of the interview scheduled the next week. The following week passed by in taking care of the sick child, giving in to all his demands as I struggled to feed him a single bite of food. We survived the week and went on to face the interview next week.