Uncle Sam Needs You

I have to take the little angel to the D-O-C to get her two-month vaccinations today. Two days ago the Parents as Teachers lady came by (she had been fighting for me with the other lady two blocks down the street - apparently they must get funding based on how many recruits they can find in a three-block radius) and reminded me how important it is to America that I get my baby vaccinated, despite the pain and eight pages of scary warning materials the D-O-C gave me in the hospital.

So this shot thing seems to be a source of controversy. Apparently, babies can die from them, but we must vaccinate anyway for The Greater Good of America.

Really, I do understand and I have ever intention of vaccinating the little angel. I don't intend to freeload immunity off the rest of the world's little angels who have already dutifully howled in pain (forget the sugar-water-laced pacifiers, it's going to hurt). But I am annoyed that this is yet another "choice" that comes with modern parenting. You can "choose" whether or not to get an epidural, to have an amnio when your triple-test comes back "your baby might have Down's Syndrome," to take the triple-test at all, to vaccinate, to send your child to daycare with other infected children when you have a mortgage to pay...these things don't always really feel like choices. I mean, what else are you going to do? Yet, the guilt.

So today I stare at my little angel as I type, and she is dancing to the Bare Naked Ladies and experimenting with new squealing sounds she just learned to make, and I hope to God that the shots are not painful and don't have any ill effects. Go, baby, go.