The Whole Tooth

My dearest Molly,

I had hoped -- prayed, in fact -- that you and I would never have to have that conversation.  But, unfortunately, we've had to have it already... a lot sooner than I ever dreamt.

I'm talking about your teeth, of course.  (What else would I be referring to???)

There's a genetic quirk in my family - a weird dominant gene somewhere in the chain... that causes some of us to be born without enamel on our teeth.  It's called amelogenesis imperfecta.  It's incredibly rare.  My childhood dentist told me it's one paragraph in one book in all of dental school -- he was told "You'll never see this... but here's what it is."  It's not a huge deal -- and luckily it doesn't seriously affect our health in any way.  But, unfortunately, teeth without enamel are yellow in color... so it's a quirk that's hard to hide.

While I was pregnant with you, I had prayed and prayed that you'd have a beautiful, normal smile.  But, deep down I knew that there could be many, MANY other conditions you could be born with that would cause many more serious health problems... and I tried to keep that in mind.  (I've had too many friends who've had babies with serious health problems - and that gave me the a new perspective on discolored teeth.)  I also knew it was something I couldn't control -- it's a roll of the genetic dice -- so I tried not to worry about it.

Your first teeth didn't pop through until you were a year old.  (Really late.)  And at first, they looked white.  I was so relieved, I cried.  We took you to the pediatric dentist as soon as you had teeth and I explained my history.  He didn't see anything to concern him - but encouraged us to bring you back regularly.

When you were two, you decided to run with a truck in your daycare class... then you fell and cracked your front tooth.  So I had the pleasure of rushing you to the dentist for emergency x-rays.  Dr. Mark wasn't so concerned about the crack (luckily, besides a chip out of your front tooth, there wasn't any serious damage), but he did mention he was concerned about your enamel... it seemed to be wearing off.  I took you to my hometown dentist for a second opinion... and he looked at me and said, "Vic, she's got it."  And I cried again.

Luckily, your case isn't nearly as drastic-looking as mine or my brother's... your teeth are a much milder, softer yellow so it's not immediately noticeable.  So we didn't worry too much about it.  (In fact, most people don't really notice it unless we say something.)

But then a girl at your daycare said something to you -- "Your teeth are yellow."  And my heart broke.

Before you started Kindergarten, I sent an email to your teacher explaining the situation.  She was so kind and replied that if any kids commented that she'd use it as a learning experience for the whole class about what makes each of us different.

So far, so good.  But there was a kid in aftercare the other day who said to you "Your teeth are yellow."  You told Daddy about it but wouldn't tell me.  We talked about it some -- and we've explained to you that some people are born that way.  Some people have freckles and some people are tall... and some people have teeth without enamel.  That's just the way some people are.

So, I'm sorry that you'll get asked all too many times, "Don't you brush your teeth?  Then why are they yellow?"  I'm sorry that, when you talk about smoking in Health class and the teacher reads that one of the side affects is yellow teeth, the ENTIRE class will turn and stare at you.  There will be days when it's hard to be that kid who's different... and there will be plenty of kids who will be cruel to you.  But, if they weren't mean to you about your teeth, they would find something else to tease you about.  (Unfortunately, that's just the way it is with some kids.  You'll realize later that they are teasing you to cover up their own insecurities... but it's hard to realize that when you're five... or 10... or 16...)  And I'm sorry that you're going to spend a LOT of quality time in a dentist chair.

But your teeth are one of those things that makes you you -- and makes you who you'll be.  And I am so very thankful that this is the toughest thing in your life -- when there are so many things (health-related and otherwise) that are so much worse.  And you'll realize later that everyone has something she's embarrassed about... whether it's being too tall, too short, not cool enough... or having a serious health problem, or a family problem that can't be fixed.

And this is one very unique thing that we share... and I hope you know that you can ALWAYS talk to me about this.

Love you, peanut.
One very sweet and kind sidebar to this whole story:  there's a lovely photographer who does all the holiday photos at your daycare and all the sports photos for the local teams.  Daddy was talking to her at the Halloween Spooktacular and introduced himself as Molly's Dad.  The photographer said, "Oh, I always remember Molly because I touch up her teeth.  I hope you don't mind.  She has such a pretty smile."  That made me cry, because that was so sweet and thoughtful of her to do.

I'm Raising the Octo-Mom

Dearest Molly,

I'm sorry.  I love you very much.  However, there is one request that you currently have that I cannot fulfill:  giving you a little brother or sister. 

As anyone who knows you can attest, you REALLY want to be a big sister.  DESPERATELY.  Whenever you play with friends and their little siblings are around, you mother them so genuinely and sweetly, it's a little ridiculous.  I always imagined that my parents or Daddy's parents would bug encourage us to have more kids... but I never imagined the guilt trip would be from you.

Recent Big Sister Wannabe comments include:

- "Mommy, when am I going to be the big sister?"

- "Mommy, when are you going to have another baby?"

- "Mommy, why aren't you going to have another baby?"

- "Mommy, can I ask Aunt Melissa a favor?  Can she have another baby for us?"

- And my personal favorite, while sitting at the kitchen table:  "Mommy, don't you want to fill our table?  There's one seat empty."

 We started by telling you that we only wanted one baby.  You replied that you wanted a baby too.  Then we told you we only had room in our house for one baby, and that was you.  You quickly countered by promising to share your room with the baby.  (Rats.)  Lately, I've resorted to telling you that Mommy can't have another baby... and I'm hoping we can leave it at that for awhile.

I guess since we're not giving you a little brother or sister to play with, you decided to get creative.  For awhile, you would put Humphrey in your belly and pretend you were the mommy. (This was when you were younger and a lot of your friends' moms were expecting.) Then, you started refering to your stuffed friends as your brothers and sisters.  You started carrying Humphrey around as if he were a real baby -- and you carried him so kindly and gently it would break our hearts.

Then, this weekend, you informed me that you have three brothers and four sisters and Humphrey is the baby brother.  Now, every night, I get a report on what atrocities the brothers have committed against the sisters -- scratching them, breaking their Cinderella toys, teasing them...  Then I have to send the brothers to the time out area, while the girls and Baby Brother Humphrey go off to play.

I can't even wrap my head around how this will play out many, many, MANY years from now.  However, I do imagine that the guilt trip will start a little something like, "Well... since Mom never gave me ANY brothers or sisters... and I was an ONLY child..."
\
And I'll just smile... and say, "Hand me my grandbaby."

Love you, peanut.