And yes, I’m just coming back from a hectic morning filled with drizzle, fog, and a little girl who keeps growing bigger every single day but still cries uncontrollably like she’s three years old again. The reason? Her absolute terror of needles. This time, I took her to one of her routine pediatric appointments, but before that we had to stop by the clinical lab so she could get some blood work done that her pediatrician had requested. What can I say? The fear had already taken over her since the night before. A bad experience with a nurse years ago left a mark on her that she still hasn’t fully shaken off.
Her face says everything, honestly. That’s why I decided to use these photos. You can clearly see the exhaustion and boredom written all over her expression. Some of the tests required several hours between procedures, like the blood glucose one, which has to be done while fasting and is usually ordered because of her biological father’s family medical history. Believe me, I tried everything to calm her down. Conversations, reassurance, explaining things slowly... none of it worked. She would just nod silently while listening to me, but the second she saw the syringe needle, pure panic kicked in.
Sadly, this has become one of those unhealthy things I’ve learned to normalize over the years. Thankfully, the lab technician had experience dealing with children who have the same kind of overwhelming fear of injections, so she understood the situation immediately. Once the blood draw was finally over, we headed to the pediatrician’s office. They measured her height, checked her weight, reviewed all the lab results, and although her cholesterol came back a little high, there wasn’t anything seriously concerning according to the doctor.
I’ve actually been lucky enough to have the same pediatrician since the day my daughter was born. In my country, many doctors leave public healthcare because of better salaries elsewhere, and while my daughter’s doctor isn’t completely disconnected from that reality either, he’s developed a genuine affection for her over the years. He still treats several longtime patients with real care and professionalism. In a way, this post is also about those quieter parts of motherhood that nobody really talks about. The exhausting little responsibilities that don’t look dramatic from the outside, but slowly pile up over time.
A morning at my daughter’s pediatrician turned into yet another small battle, trying to convince her that screaming and crying every time she needs blood tests won’t make the experience disappear. I still think I’ve failed a little there, honestly. Or maybe I just haven’t figured out how to help her process that fear yet. But motherhood is also that: understanding that sometimes we have to make decisions our children won’t like at all, even when we know they’re necessary. So today ended up being about my daughter’s health, my own peace of mind as a mother, and unfortunately, one more direct confrontation between my little girl and the thing she fears the most: a syringe needle.