It is Thursday evening and I am scared out of my skull.
Carien is going in to get her teeth fixed tomorrow. And she is getting anaesthetic. And it is freaking me out.
Remember I told you she fell and broke half of her front tooth off? The reason it broke that easily is because her 4 top front teeth are in a horrible condition. Carien, who has never accepted a bottle in her life, has typical bottle baby teeth. And she got it because
1. she is still breastfeeding and spends a huge chunk of every night “snacking”
2. my milk is very rich (I have been a favourite with the breast milk bank for that exact reason)
3. I didn’t brush her teeth well enough and often enough.
Number 1 I made peace with. It is her way of getting enough mommy-time when I spend most of my time in hospital. When it gets really bad I leave home before she wakes up and get home 30 minutes before she goes to sleep. It is her comfort thing. It makes her feel loved and safe and even though I wouldn’t mind if she stopped now, there is no way that I would force her off before Woutertjie’s sickness and hospital stays are firmly in the past. I am that kind of mother. (rolling eyes at myself)
Number 2 I have no control over. And when the kids were babies it meant that they grew wonderfully well and gained weight easily. So I have no right to feel guilty about that.
Number 3 is the problem. Why didn’t I spend more time brushing her teeth??? I know that we had bigger issues to deal with the past year. And I know that it is milk teeth and her permanent teeth with appear eventually. But her teeth are so bad that the dentist promised that she would try and save them, but there is a very big chance that she will pull at least some of the 4 teeth. I don’t want my baby to walk around with a “passion gap”* for the next 4 years. Not my little princess.
And even worse, I am dreading the anaesthesia. And Wouter just doesn’t seem to get why it upsets me that much. Granted, he hasn’t been close during any of the anaestetic episodes (I’ve mentioned his unfortunate response to blood, needles and creepy thoughts before) so he has no idea what the emotional impact is.
From his vantage point (and logically) I shouldn’t be stressed. After all, I helped to put Boeta under close to 30 times. I bagged him during the time he stopped breathing (a normal occurence) while the anaethetist checked out the rest of him. I lifted his floppy, lifeless body onto the bed we used to move him to the radiation bunker. I should be very relaxed. But none of this is the point.
Carien is my baby. She is my healthy child. I can’t handle the thought of seeing her going under or being under. And I am plagued by what ifs. This is my baby.
Please say a prayer for our little girl’s safety. Although, by the time you read this she will probably be done already. She is going in to theatre at 08:30 tomorrow. I knew this for a week already but couldn’t bring myself to update about her tooth issues. You might’ve noticed that I never posted an update on her dentist appointment. I haven’t felt like such a major failure as parent in a long, long time.
*If you don’t know what a passion gap is, you obviously don’t live in the Western Cape.
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