After a few days in a shame spiral, I think I’m ready to come from hiding and tell what happened. I’m Catherine and my three-year-old son has a mouthful of cavities. (Hi, Catherine!)
On some level, I’ve been dreading this outcome since… well, before he even had teeth. I was reading this Penelope Leach book and came to this part where she went into a brief rant about how you can’t just ignore a child’s baby teeth because they are going to fall out anyway. How you must, as a foundation for his permanent teeth, tend them with tenacity and vigilance. She even suggested that he see a dentist between his second and third birthdays. I ran that by our pediatrician and he said that sometime between three and four was more like it. That made sense to me, and I chalked part of Penelope’s hysteria about it to the fact that she’s British and surely has her work cut out for her over there.
But at the same time, I took her words to heart. Since Isaac has had two teeth in his mouth I’ve devoted myself to brushing them—or I should say TRYING to brush them– at least at bedtime.
Then along came this aunt of mine who told a chilling tale: she was at her dentist one time and an adorable little boy came up to her and (ominously enough) offered her candy. Later, she overheard the dentist talking to the little boy’s father, and saying that the little boy had seven cavities, and that furthermore he would have to fill them under general anesthesia!
So this really put the fear of God in me and I started worry and fretting about it as much as possible. Encouraging sugarless gum with xylitol after meals out and about, introducing “wild dino flossers” and really really trying to get those teeth scoured before bedtime.
Meanwhile, I think Ben found my anxiety about the teeth to be somewhere between groundless and annoying. His own view of the situation was in effect just what Penelope Leach had admonished against: they’re just baby teeth. While he did seem to respect my efforts as valuable in terms of habit-forming for the future, he really didn’t worry at all about the actual teeth. This became more of a problem as Isaac was weaned and Ben took over a leadership role at bedtime. While skillfully handling the diapers, pajamas, and stories, he would frequently forget all about the teeth part of the process.
As the same time, Isaac himself often strongly resisted the whole thing. Sometimes we’d have a miserable struggle over it. Other times it would go reasonably smoothly. (We’ve tried every sort of toothbrush from Pooh Bear to Spider Man, including the pricy Oral B electric, but none of them seem to appeal more than the others.) One time he was clamping his little mouth shut while kicking me in the stomach and I exclaimed, “Isaac, I’m afraid your teeth are going to rot out of your head!” This was a moment of pure honesty. To my shock, this got his attention and he opened his mouth placidly. (I still pull that one out now and then, sparingly, and it still works.)
Finally I decided that my fears probably WERE groundless, and that I should just take Isaac to the dentist and be reassured. I called last week to make him an appointment, and actually the secretary discouraged me. She said, “We don’t recommend that you come in until he’s four.” I pointed out that I had already brought him in to sit on my lap while I had my teeth cleaned, so he wasn’t a total stranger to the place, and also—will you please just humor me??? Just please look in his mouth! I didn’t really come out and say this, but I think the depth of my concern was evident to her and she reluctantly agreed to let him come in.
We went on Tuesday. The dentist was incredibly warm and friendly, asked Isaac if he brought his teeth with him today. I just stood up in the examining room, holding Isaac on my hip, and the dentist, armed only with good light, peeked in his mouth. It all took about thirty-five seconds before he rendered his verdict: “Yes, mom, there’s something there.” Of course Isaac was right there in my arms so I couldn’t in any way betray how profoundly upset I was. This sort of thing is always difficult with the little curious/perceptive/intuitive pitcher with big ears around. I did manage to ask “How many?” and hear, “Three or four, I think.” I did manage to ask, “Do they do general?” and to hear, “No—they won’t do that.” But that was about it in terms of information. He gave me the card of a special little kids’ dentist (didn’t know they had those) and away I went.
So, since then. I’ve been thinking about where I went wrong. Was it that time, last Christmas, when well-meaning family members gave Isaac a huge slab of hard candy on a stick? And what could I do—pry it out of his iron grip on Christmas day, amid a sea of scowls and Isaac’s own howls of rage? Was it in Boston, that time we let him drink root beer at a restaurant, just out of sheer exhaustion, and then he fell asleep on the way back to the hotel room, and we didn’t wake him up to get the corrosive stuff off his teeth?
Or even earlier, back when we in our ignorance kept chairs in the house slathered with lead paint, and plain as day he chewed on them at least twice before we got the lead abated? I just learned today that lead exposure can weaken tooth enamel! On his first birthday, his lead level was a whopping 21. (It’s now down to a lovely 4.) Maybe that’s the culprit right there.
And all that full-strength juice! All those raisins! And ice cream! And the sheer wallowing in pure cane sugar on Halloween!
Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know how it happened. (It seems more shameful than VD.) Also, there’s nothing to be done about it now. I called the kids’ dentist place a couple times and got hold of them today. They don’t do general, but they do use nitrous oxide. They have a lot of toys and tiny kid-sized dentist chairs. The other thing is that they don’t let parents in the room while they’re working. Isaac has to go in an face the situation alone—and so do I. How can I sit in a waiting room reading out-of-date periodicals while Isaac is in there enduring THE DRILL???? But– they must have a reason they will keep me out there, right? They must know what they’re doing. (Right?)
Our appointment for a cleaning and a check-up– to get a detailed accounting of the situation and make a plan– is on January 6.