We had a milestone event today.
And not of the happy, happy, joy, joy variety.
Today, Chica experienced her first orthodontist appointment.
Oye.
The background:
Some time ago (perhaps six months), at our regularly-scheduled dental cleaning, Chica’s wonderful dentist noted some spacing issues that were becoming apparent as Chica’s adult teeth were coming in, and made the recommendation that we have an orthodontic consult to discuss treatment options that might be easier to implement now than later.
So...I saved the business card for the orthodontist that came highly recommended, and added it to my list of things to address this Spring.
And then the world kind of turned upside down, and then full-on stopped for awhile. And I’ve just now begun the process of trying to get back to my list of things I’d set aside (even though the climate within our state is now making a drastic turn for the worse—but that’s a whole other post).
So...long and short. Today was the day.
Now, the background of Chica’s awareness of all of this:
She’s just now reaching the age where she’s even taking note of much, in terms of her physical appearance. I mean, don’t get me wrong—she’s always been a girl who loves her jewelry and accessories and the process of getting fancy for a lovely evening out. So it’s not that she hasn’t been aware of things the enjoys. But I think we’re just barely even to a stage (thank heavens!) where she would even look at herself and think to be critical. And I want to keep it that way!
So it was a delicate balance to even gauge her awareness of her teeth and any concerns she/we/a dentist might have to even discuss why we needed to have a consult to begin with. I don’t want to put any negative thoughts into her head.
But, luckily, it was an easy, open discussion about the health of our teeth, and how they need the proper space not to overlap, and how an orthodontist is the person that can help create that space, or move teeth around in the future, if need be.
I kept it 100% focused on the lifelong health of the teeth and not, not, not about anything aesthetic. And it went pretty well.
That said, she definitely has some preconceived notions about ortho gear, as there was a little boy in her class this year who got braces, and she came home one day to talk to me about it and express her desire not to have to deal with that someday, ha. And, when I got a retainer of my own a few months back (whole other story that I might have mentioned here), she definitely admitted to feeling like it looked strange.
All truth.
Nothing wrong with her feelings on that front.
Nobody wants orthodontic treatments or to look strange.
But also a delicate balance of knowing that this is the first health-related event (beyond maybe taking kiddos in for shots at the doctor, that’s a very quick, temporary thing) that might cause my girl a bit of angst or pain or feelings of self-consciousness that might just have to be done anyway, for the longterm heath and beauty of her teeth.
And, man, does that hurt as a parent.
(And also hurt the pocketbook, I might add.)
The positives here:
We love her new orthodontist. She’s a very soothing, authoritative, female presence.
And we also received the news that we expected: that she needs an expander to create more room for her teeth. So we (or at least I) didn’t get a big shock. Just sort of a yucky confirmation.
Now...here’s the medieval looking torture device (on a replica of a mouth in the doctor’s office):
I mean...not fun.
Complete with a “key” that we’ll have to turn to continue to expand the whole dang contraption over the first couple of months.
I mean, I had braces and the whole shebang back in the day, and even I’m cringing. So imagine how Chica reacted.
My poor girl was so stoic and composed for the consult, but as soon as the doctor left the room, the tears came swift and hard. She was so emotional. Worried about the scary look of it, and the process, and the pain. And who can blame her???
It really was a hard morning.
Now that we know this is happening, I don’t want to delay and let her worry further. So first thing Monday, we’re going in for the first of three quick steps that will be completed within the next couple of weeks, and then she’ll apparently have about 10 months of life with this thing.
I keep telling myself (to ease my parent guilt over being the one to bring this angst into her life) that there are so many positive about the timing.
First: with the hubby still working from home a few days a week and able to keep an eye on the younger two during these appointments, at least I can give Chica some devoted TLC as things are happening, to ease her nerves.
Second, we’re getting the whole expander in place early July, so she’ll have plenty of time to get acclimated before the new school year (though that’s a whole different discussion of what that school year will look like!).
And, third: if social distancing continues as er expect: what better time to deal with something yucky like this and just put it behind us and not mess with any other ortho—if need be—until then teenage years.
So there you have it.
A big, but kind of sad day.
And not, NOT a fun present for Chica’s 8th birthday in a couple of days!
But I suppose a necessary evil of aging. And I’m grateful to be in a positive to have access to the care and money to get this done.
Wish us luck.
Over and out.
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