Like pulling teeth

We took Meggie for another dental consultation today. This dentist is more conservative in treatment than our usual pedodontist, whom we still like very much.

Meggie screamed and kicked during the examination and X-ray, despite my holding her on my lap during both procedures. She tried to talk herself out of sitting in the dentist's chair by saying, "I'm not sick! Please! I'm not sick!"

The dentist was encouraged by the position of the teeth. He said her bite was good. Both teeth were firm. The graying tooth didn't concern him very much. He said we could just watch them. "But let me check the X-ray, just to make sure," he said.

There's always another story beneath the surface. The tooth on her left, the one that's graying, shows clear signs of root resorption. The tooth is dying, and an abscess could result. Because of the damage during the fall and the proximity of the two teeth to each other and the permanent teeth behind them, both will have to be pulled.

We were a little disappointed. Mostly because our hopes had been raised. But we've played the wait-and-see card as well as we could. We had three consultations (two in person and one on the phone) and two X-rays. We've walked away from one scheduled extraction, as well. We sought all options, but there's nothing else to do. As usual, we inquired about pedodontic partials (a bridge) and got the usual response: The kids don't need them. They soothe the parents more than the child. The kids get confused and are discomfited by the wires in their mouths, etc.

We've scheduled an extraction for the 26th. And that's that, I guess. The dentists are all very nonchalant about these procedures. They always tell us how many hundreds of kids they've treated with the same procedure and how many thousands have the procedure done across the country every year.

After the appointment we went to McDonald's for lunch. Alan and I had promised this as an inducement for her to cooperate with the dentist. Meggie tucked in, as always, and after eating most of her Happy Meal, she scampered around the playland, climbing the towers and skittering across the rope bridges.

In the corner of the room, a mother was feeding her toddler formula through a stomach tube. She appeared to be sanguine about it, but it seemed very sad to me. How thankful I am that Meggie is in good health and that she has not had any mishaps more serious than losing two baby teeth a couple years early. When she starts kindergarten, she'll stride in like a veteran, flashing the gap-toothed smile of the older, active kid.

But it still makes me a little sad. When she fell off her stool and hit her face on the toilet, something was knocked into me, too. I've had to accept that my little girls are going to acquire scrapes, bruises and maybe even a few scars. Alan and I have our fair share. Part of me wants to shield them from all discomfort and pain. But the result would be a rather bland and meager existence for them, wouldn't it? Life is full of obstacles, and climbing them could skin a knee. How blessed we'll be if every injury is as impermanent as this one, which will be covered completely when her permanent teeth come in.

But living is a messy business, and human beings are exercises in imperfection. We're all deviations from an ideal prototype that exists only in the mind of the Creator. It's the flaws and inconsistencies--one eyebrow more sloped than the other, a mouth that pulls to the right, a nose that crinkles with a smile (even a scar above the lip?)--that form the landmarks of the faces we love.

So add to our Megster's apple-red cheeks, pug nose and eyes like coffee-filled saucers a wide, gappy grin. At least for a few years.