I’m getting ready for work, mum just arrived to look after the kid and the kid is running around like a banshee. She’s laughing, she’s giggling, she’s excited and she’s running away from grandma who is pretending to chase her.
As I’m getting dressed, I start to pull my underwear up over my knee, just as grandma calls the kid’s name. She squeals with delight runs towards me to get away from grandma.
As she turns and starts running towards me, my knee travels up at an ungodly speed, and then there’s the horrible sound of impact followed by a momentary silence.
4 months after “the incident”
Yep, I knee my kid in the fucking face.
I immediately break out in an all over body sweat, my blood pressure drops. I feel nauseous and there’s wind in my ears.
I pick her up and she’s bleeding from her mouth and I think to myself, not the teeth, please not the teeth again.
After we both calm down, I check her mouth and she’s fine. The teeth – that are finally returning – aren’t wobbling and it was just a bit of a cut in the lip.
Meanwhile, I look down at my knee, and her teeth have left their mark.
Part 2 – 12 months on
I’m assuming by now you’ve read part 1 and you’re feeling sorry for me and the kid. As you should, it was bloody horrific.
And just bloody, in general.
Well, the story isn’t over… yet.
As the dentist predicted, by the time my second daughter was born, the kid grew her teeth back out in full! A year on, her and her beautiful gappy smile continued to grow and charm their way through life.
But this is why the doctor said “no more monkeys jumping on the bed!”
Jump, jump, jump…
“Monkey, stop jumping on the couch!”
Jump , jump, jump… “WAHHHHH!”
A couple of weeks ago, it’s Tuesday morning, I haven’t even had my coffee yet and she jumps straight into the fucking window sill. Mouth first.
This time, my body is better prepared and I do not break out into sweats, instead, I scold her and cuddle her and check her mouth and although there’s a bit of blood, there isn’t much and it clears up quickly.
But on Friday…
So we’re laughing, we’re giggling, she’s in my lap and I’m nibbling on her and eating the figurative honey from her neck.
As she’s smiling, I see something peeking out from under her lip. I lift her lip up and check out her upper gum, and what do I see?
A bubble of pus.
I’m like, ok, this is fine, I used to have something similar when I was a kid, didn’t I? Must be from when she hit herself a few days ago.
My mum, a dentist in Yugoslavia, drops by and when I show her, her face isn’t exactly relaxed. My mother is normally very calming and soothing, but today was not the day for that. Her “o-oh” face was not what I wanted to see.
She suggests we go and see a dentist.
I book in to see someone immediately, and as I anxiously wait for my appointment, I do the thing that parents should never, ever do, and I turn to Dr Google.
Parents should also never, ever, look at pictures of ‘tooth abscess’ and ‘pus bubble on gums’. Take my word for it, it will not be fun viewing.
Finally the appointment time arrives and once we meet the lovely, lady dentist, I tell them the story of what happened last year with the damn dolphins, and what happened earlier in the week with the flying into the window sill.
They have a look at the offending abscess and decide that an x-ray is needed.
We go ahead and get the x-ray done, and I look at the results.
As I’m looking at the x-ray showing the skull full of teeth, current and adult, I’m comforted – there’s nothing there!
Except, I’m not a dentist and have no idea what I’m talking about.
There’s a shadow
There’s a shadow. Right where the abscess is, clear as day to an actual dentist, who went to school for years to be able to recognize signs of infection, there it is – there’s a shadow.
And this is bad.
The dentist makes the same face mum made earlier that day. She explains that the abscess is a sign of infection and that very faint shadow over the root of the infected tooth, one of the front ones that was damaged in her fall. The infection touches on the adult tooth, and this is a bad thing. It’s not a result from the window sill incident, it’s been there for months.
Here are the options:
- Root canal that will likely lead to extraction anyway.
It all comes flooding back, the visual of her falling and hitting her teeth, the blood, the pain in her eyes.
The guilt that I carried around for months when she was toothless.
It all comes flooding back, drowning me.
The dentist explains that they will have to put her under a general anesthetic to get the tooth out, so doing a root canal when she doesn’t think it will be effective long term would be cruel because then she’ll need to go under twice.
Not taking it out could damage the adult tooth, which would not be wise.
I know what the right answer is.
But my daughter is only 2. Although she busted all of her teeth out by the time she was 14 months, I can expect her to be toothless until she’s approximately 6 years old. 5 if we’re lucky.
That’s at least another 3-4 years of looking like a pirate.
The guilt, oh the guilt!
I cried for days. The Husband has been a great sport, he’s been holding down the emotional fort whilst I’ve been wallowing in my own misery.
The same questions keep swirling around me – why didn’t I sit her on my lap? How could I do this to her? Will she be teased by other kids? Will it affect her speech? She already talks like a minion! How will I tell the family?
It’s haunting me.
Could be worse
I know. I know it could be worse. I know it could be so much worse. What if it was all three front teeth?
I’ll keep it together and be there when she needs me and buy her a matching eye patch. Hopefully she’ll have a sense of humour when she grows up.
So here it is, that million dollar smile, one more time before it disappears. My child will never look the same.
At least she has a great personality…
Adios amigos, don’t drop your children!