Dental, DAMN

I had really, really bad teeth as a child. As in, really, really, really bad. They were bad enough that I made a lot of trips to the dentist before I was five. I had countless fillings, crowns, etc.

I hated the dentist with a red hot passion. I hated having my mouth held open with whatever it was they used to keep it open while they worked. I hated the feeling of being numb and I REALLY hated that my mom had to stay out in the waiting room.

My girls had a dentist appointment today.

And I waited in the waiting room. Honestly, I'm not sure who had it worse. It was probably the girls, but waiting was awful all the same.

Alyssa needed a filling replaced with a crown. She was out in about a half hour.

This was Olivia's first visit during which they were doing real work. She got a couple of fillings and a crown. She also got the damaged front tooth sealed with a whitening agent, mostly for cosmetic reasons.

When the dentist first asked me if I wanted them to do this, I resisted. I though, how much does a four year old care about whether she has a darkened tooth?

But then I remembered that when I was thirteen, my dentist told my dad that I didn't really NEED braces. He could put them on me if my dad wanted me to be pretty, though.

My dad decided pretty wasn't important.

I paid for those braces myself when I was 27. Pretty was important to me.

And pretty is important to Olivia, so we went with the cap on her front tooth.

But the entire experience was traumatizing for her. She cried the entire time.

When they finally brought her to me, she was sobbing. She was snotty and red with fury and fright.

I felt awful. But I also knew she needed the work.

And now, six plus hours later, she is sound asleep, hopefully forgetting the stress and pain of the day. She did tell me at about dinnertime that her tooth hurt. We gave her a little more Tylenol and hoped it was just a bit of residual physical pain. Physical pain can be dosed.

Emotional pain? That runs deep. And while I do know that dental work is a fact of life, I hate that I had any part in the emotional pain Olivia felt when she was taken from my arms and carried back to that dental chair.

I remember that pain and I remember wondering why my mom was letting these people hurt me.

I can only try to brush her teeth better in the days, weeks, months to come and hope she only has to suffer that one morning of work. Poor baby.