Never-Ending First {Coffee+Crumbs}

Hadley and I are walking into her orthodontist appointment: the one where she’ll get a metal bridge—I guess that’s what it’s called—attached to the roof of her mouth. It’s going to straighten out her very unstraight jaw. It’s going to make her drool. It’s going to cause her pain, and Hadley’s going to have to learn how to chew and swallow with a wire in her mouth. I don’t know how long she’ll need the retainer. I don’t know if this is an anecdote to future braces. All I know is that the appointment is at 4:40 and we are walking up the stairs holding hands because Hadley is nervous.

A very pregnant woman walks down the stairs as we walk in. I watch her as I hold the door for Hadley, and my uterus skips a nostalgic beat. I smile at this soon-to-be-mother walking towards all the firsts: first contraction, first push, first swaddle, first Target trip with the baby, first smile, first coo, first night sitting outside the baby’s room wondering if the cry-it-out scenario was really meant for her child. Surely the authors of Baby Wise hadn’t heard this child’s screams. If they had, they’d re-write the book.

I watch this woman walk all the way down the sidewalk, unlock her car, and get in it. Meanwhile, Hadley pushes the button for the third floor outside the elevator. “It’s here, Mom,” she calls. I trot towards the elevator to catch up to Hadley, and together we head to her first orthodontist appointment.

The appointment is not going well. Hadley’s sobbing while the nurse fits her retainer in her mouth. As we were warned, Hadley’s drooling, and she can’t figure out how to swallow when it feels like a piece of hard candy is ready to drop down her throat. The nurse walks away, giving us a minute alone. I wipe away Hadley’s tears and promise her any Minecraft toy she wants.

“Why do I have to do this again?” Hadley asks, wiping her face of spit and tears. Hadley is a rational girl. Cause and effect resonate deeply with her. Today, she is asking me for a reminder: tell me the reason I have to endure this, and I’ll do it. I can’t remember why. Is it to get her teeth straightened? Or is it her jaw? Really, though, is this life or death? Or is this just cosmetic? Why did I agree to do this?

I mumble something lame and blame the dentist; he ordered this. Hadley nods, not satisfied but resolved that it has to get done. She lays back down in the chair, closes her eyes and extends her hand, so I can hold it. The nurse walks over and finishes the job.

You can read the rest on Coffee + Crumbs, here.