Mia Goes To The Dentist

I remember being pregnant with Mia, and reading some scrap of information on fetal development that told me exactly when her tiny baby teeth buds were forming. I dreamed about her pearly whites, and how they'd fill up her smiling mouth. I don't think I dreamed about the screaming tantrums that would ensue when we began brushing her teeth - that's not nearly as exciting to imagine in your future child.

But the teeth. They've been forming and growing in her mouth since she was a pre-born. And, as good teeth will do, they require maintenance. Mia's happy enough now to brush her own teeth - she even knows how to spit out the mouthfuls of toothpaste - and let us floss every night so it only made sense that she'd need to be initiated into the realm of dentistry. Although, I must admit that this is another part of childhood I never really imagined while I was pregnant. I couldn't ever dream of her being big enough to do something as grown up as having her teeth cleaned.

Something else that caught me by surprise? The fact that I'd not be the one to take her to her first dental check-up. Justin got that honor.

It has been my duty to take her to every shot-pierced, sob-filled, terror-riddled doctor's visit, but WHATEVER.

I guess I'm (slightly) happy that her daddy got to experience this milestone with her instead of me. And I'd just about bet that he shed a few less tears than I would have when she sat down in that enormous chair for the first time.

Because all I'd have been able to think about when I saw her sitting there would have been how tiny her rosebud mouth was when she was fresh from my body. Or how sweet her smile was when her two front teeth were a mile apart in her gummy mouth. Or the first time those teeth drew blood during a nursing session.

And then I'd have been crying all over again from the memory of that particular torture.

Justin was a better escort to the dentist, after all.

Lord help me when she starts losing her baby teeth. To heck with the tooth fairy - I'm going to need somebody entirely more substantial to console me through that last phase of baby-hood.