When I read Lissa’s tender reflection over at The Lilting House—the one about her little Wonderboy losing his baby tooth prematurely—I was reminded of a similar experience of a dental nature that darn near broke my own heart. (Keep in mind I am the weepy, sensitive type in general.)
It wasn’t just suffering through the embarrassment of being told that my 4-year-old had eight cavities. Pardon me? No, that was not a typo. My daughter’s got very deep crevices in her molars, it seems, and being a good & doting mommy I am prone to feeding her lots of sticky treats. Yes, she had eight cavities. Yes, they needed filling. No, she would not let the dentist near her.
Consequently I needed to take her down to Children’s Hospital West for pediatric surgery. The staff did an excellent job in explaining the procedure to Avila and me. She got to choose the flavored lip smacker that they rubbed inside the gas mask, (bubble gum, I believe), and watched a Dora DVD while she waited. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was about to go under the knife, so to speak, and indeed she probably was.
Her mother, however, was a wreck.
You would have thought, really, that I was sending her in for something much more serious. My protective Mother’s instinct did not want my baby to suffer. (And frankly I did not enjoy hearing about the tube they planned to stick up her nose to facilitate breathing.) As I held her in my arms during the anesthesia and sang her a lullaby to pass out by, I was wracked with anxiety. Isn’t that a horrible feeling? It was just a very weird experience, maybe only a minute or two in length. Her little pink Hello Kitty purse slipped from her grip and hit the floor, she gave a very unnerving glassy-eyed grin and she went limp. To have them take her unresponsive little body out of my arms and shoo me out of the operating room was torment!
I sat there in the family waiting room and fingered my Rosary beads distractedly. My thoughts kept straying from the words of the prayers and finally came to rest on the single, simple plea, “Mary, help me.”
You know how it is when one of our children come to us with a splinter? They are terrified to even let us look at it and keep yanking their hand away when we try to do so. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” we think, “This is nothing.” And yet we are so gentle and calm as we remove it because we love our children with all our hearts. This is how it is with Our Blessed Mother. She shared with me a splinter of her son’s cross—a wee splinter, but oh, my mother’s heart!
And do you know what? I could not have done it without her.
When my second son (Sports Fan) was 8 months old, he needed to get his tear duct pierced on his right eye, because it hadn’t opened yet and his eyes were always weeping. They told me that they would take him from me, strap him down, strap his head down, and poke him in the eye….
And they wouldn’t let me come in the room??
I was a wreck.
And he was gone for 30 seconds. I watched those seconds tick away on my watch. A very long 30 seconds.
A splinter of the cross? Yes, thank goodness, only a splinter…
No cavity stories, but I can feel your pain. Ds had a few surgeries as a little guy(ears, adenoids), and it was very stressful.
I love visiting your blog. I voted for you today at the HS Blog Awards.
Totally understand your emotions, Margaret.
Totally.
I could cry reading this post as just yesterday I brought my 18 year old son to the oral surgeon for an evaluation for removal of his 4 impacted wisdom teeth….I am much more nervous than he is…Mother Mary will sit in the chair next to me on May 21st. as my sweet boy undergoes much of what you describe in this post. 🙂
This is such a beautiful, tender post. I am not very sensitive, but I wish I was – I would be a more careful mother. I love thinking of Mary’s motherly compassion.
After reading this, I realized my kids are in need of a checkup. LOL!
Your posting had me on the verge of tears!
One of our priests said something interesting at an all day retreat we went to (and we talked about the Passion and the Stations of the Cross) — he said that his mother once told him that, as a priest, he would never know true pain. She said true pain only comes when you watch your child hurt or suffer. Your story brought this back to my mind.
I hope she is doing well now! (((HUGS)))
OH my! What a story Margaret. I have had my share of heartbreaking moments, but not a dental one like that … yikes!
Big hugs to you and your little one for having to go through that.
Oh, Margaret, your story brought tears to my eyes, I could just imagine myself in your shoes doing and feeling the same things. You are such a good writer. God Bless you, you made it through!
Oh Margaret, what a difficult time for you! My son just had his first cavity and I felt like such a “bad mom” for “allowing” it to happen. (But the filling of it was quick and easy). Thank God she (and you) came through alright!
I feel like a dork because I didn’t read the whole thing.
Beautiful post Margaret. I know lately first hand the agony of watching your child in pain, having David recently been hospitalized twice in past two months.
Excuse my last of tact in my last comment!
Oh honey! I am so sorry. My eldest dd (one of the twins) needed hernia surgery when she was 6…what an adventure. I am extra committed to toothbrushing now that I have read this. For some reason my youngest dd seems to need more tooth brushing more than the others do. Maybe her saliva is more acidic?? Who knows?
PS I am soo glad your comments are turned back on!! Yaaay! :o)
Any time the doctors anesthetize your child, whether they think it’s a simple matter or part of a very complex procedure–any time it’s done is stressful, nervewracking, difficult, a trial….And that’s just for the mother!
My son’s needed several hospital tests done over the last year and each time he’s been put “to sleep” while we’re there with him. He comes thru it fine, but it doesn’t get any easier for the parents, even with repetition.
God bless!
Ronda