Of 2 wrongs and 1 right

I hate it if I’m right when people do not listen. And I hate it even more when Doughnut has to suffer, just to prove that I’m right. As of now, I wished I was wrong instead. And I hate myself for not standing up for my precious Doughnut.

Well my little girl has been under the weather for the past 2 days, presumably a reaction to her jab. The typical Google mom that I am, I’ve searched all possible websites and articles to understand that a slight fever post vaccination does happen to 30-40% of toddlers. As long as it subsides within 48-72 hours, there is no real cause for concern and thus no need for medication. “Let the antibodies do their work” is the medical way of saying it. Except for one small, tiny little issue. This is MY Doughnut we’re talking about. The same Doughnut who is my husband’s one and only, beloved daughter.

Doughnut’s low grade fever has gone past 48 post-vaccine hours and he’s beginning to get worried that it will turn out to be something else. So he gave the “feed medicine” mandate. To a certain, I do agree with his concerns. But what I did NOT agree to was the methods.

“So how are you going to give her the meds?”
“Just mix it into a spoonful of her yogurt. It’s in powdered form so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Are you sure that’s the right thing to do? Yogurt is yucky, expired milk. Will the chemicals create some harmful reactions when taken together?” Not a big yogurt fan, he is. And not a medical graduate too.
“That’s the most effective way, apparently. The texture and taste of yogurt disguises the medicine.”
“I don’t think that’s the right thing to do. We’ll just have to feed her using a spoon. I’ll help to hold her down.” Doughnut has a history of fiercely refusing medicine and when younger, holding her down was the only way we could give her meds, liquid medicine in particular. In wanting her to be relieved of her sickness, I stupidly agree. (This time, her medicine was in powdered form)

What happened in the next 10 minutes was a repeat of the liquid medicine episode — violent fight backs, screaming at the top of her lungs, big drops of tears flowing down her rosy cheeks and repeated choking after that. We somehow managed to have about 80% of the suggested dosage down her throat. But I was heartbroken. I held onto her and nursed her to sleep on my body. I could never forget the look on her pale, little innocent face, staring back at me, as though asking “Why are you doing this to me, Mommy?”. 

6 hours later, it’s time for medicine again as Doughnut’s fever was still on and off. This time, I insisted that we do not force-feed her again.

“No more pressing her down please. Trust me, just try the yogurt method. I’ve researched on it and that’s what most mothers do when kids do not take medicine well.”
“Let’s try the syringe this time. I’ll carry her and play with her. All you need to do is wait for her to laugh and just feed it to her.”
“Are you sure this will work?” It’s something we haven’t tried before and naturally I was doubtful.
“Anything but medicine disguised in smelly milk.” Fine. Anything but force-feeding.

I was nervous. My husband was determined and Doughnut was far from wanting to cooperate. As a result, the speed of medicine (diluted in water) being sprayed into her mouth was too fast and she choked. And she cried. And she screamed again. This time, less than half of the medicine went in. 

Again, I wanted to kill myself for being such an idiot. I should have known better. I should have insisted in what I trust would have worked better. I have failed on my precious Doughnut YET AGAIN. This time, while comforting her in my arms, I started crying too. We both went to sleep after that, holding each other.

Next day, medicine time again. This time, I was hell bent on doing it MY WAY. There was absolutely no chance I’ll let Doughnut suffer again. My husband decided that he would have no part in it, so he watched from afar. I carefully placed her medicine in between 2 layers of yogurt and gave her the tub as usual. After 2-3 spoons of self feeding, I fed her the ‘rigged’ spoonful and she happily ate it. Not even realizing that it tasted different!

At that very moment, I wanted to jump in joy but gave Doughnut a big, fat kiss on her forehead instead. I felt like I have redeemed myself, as a mother. I felt like I did the best thing for my girl. I felt like walking up to my husband and give him a big “I TOLD YOU SO!” face. I felt like dancing but then realized I have 2 left foot. Above all, I felt like I’ve done the right thing, as any mother would have too. 

In my case, 2 wrongs DID make 1 right. 

** My precious Doughnut finally recovered from her fever a day after.

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