Sadness

CJ had his four month shots yesterday and they did not sit well with him. Poor baby spent most of the day and all of the night moaning in my arms feeling pitiful. Every four hours I dosed him up with Infant's Tylenol but come that third hour before the next dose his temperature was high and he was feeling really crappy. It was hard for me to see him so miserable, which explains why I just held him all night, even when he did doze off (usually, I would roll him off of my stomach right next to me in bed). I sensed he just needed me to be there, where he could hear my heartbeat, not to mention the backrub I gave him all night. He woke up this morning not feelign well again. Lena was able to get about two smiles out of him before he was back to moaning and groaning in my arms. Poor baby. It's times like this that I tend to think about my own childhood and get sad. I know I had my vaccines (only because I've seen the shot record), but what are the chances that I was even given Tylenol for a fever afterwards? I'll never know the answers to such questions, or perhaps, I do know the answers and that's where the sadness comes from. I don't feel sorry for myself, but in a weird, almost out of body way, I grieve the loss of that little girl's childhood. I mourn for the little girl inside of me who just wanted to be loved. That's all I wanted. Fortunately, I have found ways to grieve the loss of that little, innocent girl's childhood in appropriate ways. Many of my siblings still have not acquired those skills, instead lashing out and acting out has become the only way they know how to relieve the pressure that builds up inside of them from so much sadness. Ultimately, the sadness is what is behind it all. It may look like anger, rebellion, frustration or other things but it's just that we're so darn sad. Wouldn't you be?