As part of my petites ongoing testing to get her medications sorted out and the seizures to stop she has to have the occasional blood draw. Since she is four it is pretty hard for her to really understand this process fully especially since she isn’t aware that she has epilepsy. She is aware that she doesn’t feel well all the time, but not the specifics. Well, she had to have a blood draw and when I picked her up from her preschool I told her we were going to go to the doctor and that she would be getting a shot. She burst into tears and yelled that she didn’t want to get a pokey poke. That it would hurt and that she was scared. All while this is happening I usually forget, until later, how incredibly lucky I am that she can articulate all of her feelings about this even if sometimes it’s done by yelling on the side of the street. Once we got to the hospital she told me she was scared and didn’t want to go. We talked about being brave and what that means…that sometimes we have to do things even when they are scary and we aren’t feeling brave. My petite took a deep breath and said she was starting to feel braver. When it was her turn they called her name and she got right up and walked to the nurse and introduced herself. She saw the sticker basket and chose her two stickers and put them on the counter saying that they were for when she was done. She hoped into the chair and held out her arm. The nurse showed her the tourniquet and how it made her veins come out and the petite felt her veins. This is when she started to get a little nervous…she took a deep breath and watched the nurse draw her blood. She didn’t even cry. When she was done she hopped down and thanked the nurse for taking her blood grabbed her stickers and walked out. Sometimes I forget she is only four years old. I forget how articulate she is and can tell you how she feels even when she is really mad and really frustrated. But she is still four, she is still in so many ways my baby girl. It is in moments like this that I am astounded by how brave she is. How polite she is to thank the woman who just drew her blood. She is so much braver than I was. In fact, there is a story about when I was 8 years old and getting some teeth pulled and I was terrified. I got to the oral surgeons office and said I needed to go to the bathroom and promptly barricaded myself in the bathroom. I think it must have been that smell, you know the dentist smell I’m talking about. There was no amount of talking that was going to get me out, no bribery to be had, and no demands to be met. I was content to live the remainder of my days in a bathroom at the oral surgeons. Unfortunately for me, they had a schedule to keep and a key. I don’t know if bravery skipped a generation, but my petite is the bravest girl I know.