The deep green padding on the arms of the chair swept my mind with a memory of my great-grandmothers Louisiana kitchen. Mammaw was one of the strongest and jolliest ladies I’ve ever known. As my young daughter pulled herself up to sit on that green seat - big enough for three more six-year-olds to fit in together - I hoped she would have the same characteristics as Mammaw; strong and jovial. Reese’s big brown eyes scanned the room and locked with mine, ”You got this,” I whispered.
The nurse smiled as she rolled her seat over to touch her knees with Reese’s. “What have you been doing at school today?”
My smart girl gave no response except a nervous smirk; she never falls for distraction tactics. The nurse gently scrunched Reese’s tiny pink sleeve up toward her shoulder and laid her arm out flat, palm facing up. The rip of the sterilizing wipe, one glance at me and the tears began to flow. I clasped Reese’s free hand in mine and squished her lovie blanket tight against her leg as a comfort reminder, but again, no distraction works with this one, she wants to know exactly what’s happening and when it’s happening, even if she’s terrified of it.
No more delays now, it was time for the blood draw: ‘the big shot’ as we call it in our house.
We found out after her first birthday that Reese had a peanut allergy. Since then, once a year her allergist runs tests on her blood to determine her peanut allergy levels. I’m not sure there’s anything she hates more. Except maybe the smell of peanut butter.
I tried to turn her head to look toward me, thinking not watching the shot go in her arm would be better. She insisted on watching.
I began my “script” which I’d told her many times before, “If I could take this away and take it on for you, I would! But God has made this as a part of your story, Reese Mason. And he made you to do hard things. That’s why he sent Jesus, as a rescuer, to help us tackle our hard things. With Jesus, we can do it. YOU can do this.” But in that little room, with each tear flowing down her cheek, my heart broke a little more watching my baby do a hard thing.
She cried little sniffles until the blue rubber band was released from around her bicep. She knew that meant it was almost over. “You’re amazing,” the nurse beamed to Reese, “You did better than some of the old folks that come in here!” Finally, a giggle shook the baby curls at the end of her ponytail and her body relaxed a little.
Bandaid on. Sleeve pulled down. At least 17 cartoon stickers collected in her little fingers. Sucker unwrapped. Sparkly velcro shoes jumped down. And from there we start the countdown. 364 days until the next ‘big shot.’
