Kicking a Kitten

The crade cap is, finally, all but gone - just a few spots of red mar Violet's fuzzy pate. Her neck, unfortunately, has gotten worse. The band has grown wider and more angry, and every four hours, we have to rinse off the affected area, dry it, and apply the presrcibed cream. With every step, Violet wails louder and turns a deeper shade of red. I have to hold her arms down, while Linda does the applying, to keep her hands out of the cream, and I can see Violet looking at me through her squinting, tear-rimmed eyes. I'm left feeling as though I've just kicked a kitten. A really cute one.

Back when Violet received her first vaccine, I wrote a post about how I felt when the nurse pricked Violet, when she screamed in a way I had yet to hear, and on some visceral level, part of me wanted to harm that nurse for inflicting pain on my daughter. And now here I am, restraining Violet as she screams. I know it's for her own good. I know it's all just part of being a parent, and I just have to do it. I know (or hope) that Violet won't even remember any of this. But it still stinks, and more than anything, I hope that tomorrow morning, we'll wake up to see her neck looking a little less red, a little less angry.

126 days old