Last week, my son had his routine well-child checkup, and I was relieved to find it was completely uneventful. After addressing a minor issue with a dry patch on his toes (thankfully just a result of his active boyhood), our kind nurse returned with his vaccinations. He barely flinched at the first shot, cried a bit with the second, and we quickly enjoyed some comforting snuggles before heading home. Quite uneventful, right?
When I shared a sweet photo on my public Instagram account—showing his tiny hand clutching mine, I captioned it: “Today was a well-child checkup! He’s right about average for height and weight and off the charts for head size—big brains in those big noggins! He clung to me a bit during his shots, but I reminded him that it hurts for just a moment, and it helps protect him from serious illnesses. We’ll dive into herd immunity when he’s older. #parenthood #momlife #vaccines #family #letthembelittle”
The responses I received were staggering. While I didn’t get inundated with negative messages, there were enough to compel me to address the situation. Some comments speculated about his head size being linked to autism (seriously?), questioned the validity of herd immunity, and voiced concerns about the “toxic” substances I was allowing into his body. One comment even suggested his head might swell from the shots! Trust me, my kids have always had large heads.
I was thinking, “Hooray for vaccines! My child is protected from mumps,” while others were implying I had just harmed him. How did we reach a point where strangers on the internet feel empowered to criticize a mother’s informed, research-backed choices?
Many comments echoed the sentiment: “Do your research.”
Do they think I haven’t? Or that my pediatrician—who has dedicated years to patient care—hasn’t? My doctor, who has kids the same age, certainly wouldn’t put her own children at risk with something harmful.
Let me be transparent: I had my doubts about vaccines for a brief period. I’m not ashamed to admit it. It’s perfectly reasonable to question what we’re told. If something makes you uneasy, it’s wise to investigate using credible sources.
In college, I opted out of the H1N1 vaccine after hearing about potential side effects from peers. The school hurried us through the process, creating an atmosphere of concern. But after observing my classmates remain healthy, I decided to get vaccinated. (I was studying in a medical field, so it made sense to protect those who were vulnerable around us.)
Before having my first child, I came across alarming vaccine-related information—lists of side effects and preservatives that sparked my concern. The sheer number of shots children receive by kindergarten can be surprising. I took a step back to research both sides, comparing the “dangerous” substances in vaccines to everyday foods. For example, did you know a pear contains 600 times more formaldehyde than a flu shot?
Ultimately, I chose to vaccinate my children. While I don’t always get my flu shot, that’s more due to forgetfulness than any stance I’m taking.
Here’s why I vaccinate my kids: I’m not just protecting them from mild illnesses; I’m safeguarding them against serious diseases like polio, measles, diphtheria, and rubella. Yes, their bodies might potentially fight these off, but they could also face severe complications—brain infections, blindness, or paralysis. I would prefer they feel a bit uncomfortable during a shot than face a life-threatening illness.
Additionally, I vaccinate to protect those who cannot. I once worked with a child who couldn’t receive vaccinations due to her medical condition. Some people have valid health concerns that prevent them from getting vaccinated, such as cancer or certain genetic disorders. My family can safely process vaccines, contributing to community immunity for those who can’t.
I’m not concerned about preservatives; our bodies are equipped to filter these substances. Vaccines require preservatives to maintain their efficacy from lab to injection. Doctors don’t have fresh batches of diseases waiting in petri dishes to administer.
To those who currently choose not to vaccinate: I won’t disparage you. The disrespect I faced for my decision was eye-opening. If you have concerns, I understand. You’re navigating a challenging path, and every choice feels monumental.
I encourage you to expand your research beyond counter-movement groups. There’s a plethora of misinformation out there that can be easily accessed. Remember that correlation doesn’t imply causation. Seek out credible sources like the World Health Organization, or consult your healthcare provider. Approach discussions with an open mind and share your concerns with them.
Let’s be clear: In the not-so-distant past, parents lost children to diseases that we now consider preventable. Thousands of children suffered and died from illnesses like rubella, which often led to miscarriages. We are fortunate to live in a time where vaccines have largely eradicated these diseases, but we must remain vigilant.
When I choose to vaccinate, it’s not just for my children—it’s for yours too. No amount of criticism will make me feel guilty about this choice.
So please, don’t tell me to “do my research.” I have—thoroughly. I hope you will, too.
Warm regards,
A concerned mother
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Summary
This article discusses the decision to vaccinate children, emphasizing the importance of informed choices based on credible research. The author shares personal experiences and addresses common misconceptions about vaccines, advocating for community immunity and the protection of those who cannot be vaccinated.