This is Lila. You all know her. She’s ‘my’ baby. Others may claim her but she’s mine. And I’ve posted one or two photos of her and she’s always gorgeous and happy and serene and wonderful. She’s that kind of baby. Ok, she has her moments, but they really are quite few and far between. Its not like dating apps when the… members? victims? liars? put up their very best of all possible photos so that when they finally meet Mr/Ms Dream-Date, both are tragically disappointed at the lack of photoshopping opportunity in the real world.

Not like that with Lila. What you see is what you get. She IS that beautiful and peaceful and happy. Until yesterday afternoon. When she turned into an extra from a Wes Craven movie. With a little help from medical science.

She had her first inoculations yesterday. I don’t know what they’re for. Polio? Yellow fever? Diphtheria? Arsenal? But they inoculate kids to prevent horrible things so you have to do it. Short term pain, hopefully long term gain. We’ve all been there. Except Lila. She’s never been there before.

They STABBED MY BABY!!!! at about 2.40 and she wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t there but whilst at work I suddenly, at that time, felt a sharp pain in my thigh. Ish. Because they Conway gene, as well as bestowing extreme beauty on all who possess it, also gives you a morbid fear of needles when in the hands of, so-called, Doctors. I have that gene, passed it on to my younger daughter, Lila’s mum remaining curiously exempt from that particular mania. And Lila didn’t like the jab one bit. Mum calmed her down, fed her and all was good and sleepy. For about 10 minutes when the screaming started. And continued. And continued. And continued.

3 hours later Mum was in a panic, as you get when your baby is inconsolable and hyperventilatingly hysterical, so the Grandmother popped in on her way to spin class. Babies might be hysterical but the need for cycling 200 miles in 45 minutes without going anywhere is powerful, so off she went. And I went round on my way home from work. Don’t know why but that’s what you do. I couldn’t console her any more than anyone else, poor little red-faced screaming thing, but Mum certainly needed support. Dad came home to. The three of us, watching the world’s most unhappy child.

On the little pamphlet they give you at the Child Abuse Centre, sorry, the Medical Centre, it says ‘your baby may be a bit grizzly after the injection’. Vague. There’s grizzly and there’s hysteria. We phoned the NHS. Who were, it must be said, totally brilliant. Check this, look at that, do this, fine, here’s the doctor on the phone now, check something else, hmmmm, I’m sending a paramedic, just to check. 10 minutes later a yellow and white car pulls up outside filled with empathy and caring.

She’s fine today. Of course. As you can see. Calm, happy. Might take her mother a little longer to become truly ‘fine’. And if I find that doctor who gave her the jab yesterday, understanding as I do the need for such things totally, I will kill him.

Happy Lila, sorry, Happy Thursday

A xxxx