I Pulled Her Tooth Out While She Was Sleeping

My six-year-old daughter’s front top tooth is currently sitting in front of me, in front of her, placed on a pillow right by her mouth. I know that in order to make this seem like a natural authentic thing, both of us will have to toss and turn throughout the night so that when she wakes up and realizes its no longer in her mouth, I can fake help her search for it.

I’m not sure where this all falls as far as morals are concerned, but I couldn’t take it anymore. The thing was hanging on for dear life by a thread of gum and the girl has barely eaten the past three days trying to avoid letting anything touch it.

So I had to do it. Once I knew she was in a deep enough sleep, I parted her lips and gave a slight tug and then pop. I rinsed it off and set it on the pillow. I guess we’ll see what happens in the morning.

It should be much simpler than this, right? I mean, I know tons of parents who seem to have navigated through this without it being SUCH a thing. Or maybe they all don’t make a living constantly oversharing the intimate details of their lives, but either way, losing teeth has been quite the ordeal in this household.

My daughter’s threshold for pain is very low with her screams reaching decibel counts in the nineties when its time to brush her hair, let alone remove a tooth from her mouth where a small amount of blood will be present afterward. Then throw in that these are the very same teeth that I have told her for years are so important to take care of.

The complexity of emotions she deals with is mind-blowing. I say this because I don’t believe this is solely surrounding pain. She has mentioned not wanting to not be a kid anymore, and not wanting teeth that are too big.

I see two things manifesting here and the first is her realization of the change and development that’s happening within her as she gets older. She isn’t a baby anymore. Her teeth will be bigger and maybe she senses the larger responsibility that comes with not being a baby anymore. I do my best to reassure her that she is in fact still a kid, but the fear of growing older can apparently be just as real for a six-year-old as it is for me as a full-blown adult who also, doesn't not want to be a kid anymore.

The second thing I’m sensing here is insecurity. I have a child who is a product of someone who is overly concerned with the opinions of others. She gets it from her mama. Being pulled away from most interactions with her school and friends who are all dealing with the same things, even the same teeth being lost, has put her in this really vulnerable position. She doesn't want to be the odd man out and have something different about her, or even worse, wrong with her. I know this to be true due to how comforted she is by seeing other children online or in videos who have lost teeth. “Oh look, mommy, he’s missing teeth too!”

After a day full of reassurance and a few meltdowns, I decided to pull the plug on this tooth! I don’t regret it! I’m definitely interested to see what the outcome of it all will be in the morning, but I’m aware now more than ever what it means when people say that a mother’s work is never done.

When she was first born I couldn’t figure out why my milk hadn't come in. I feared for her safety while she slept. Wondering if her eyes were tracking things well enough at the right stages. Was she a late walker? Am I feeding her the right things? These were all early questions I dealt with and navigated figuring out.

As she’s getting older I’m realizing that the work in being a mother is getting incredibly detailed and complicated. Am I doing everything that I possibly can to instill a proper level of confidence in her? Am I pushing her too far out of her comfort zone? Does she know that I don’t know what I am doing? How long will she resent me for it? What age will she have more of an understanding of it all and love me still?

This quarantine has made me spend much more time than I believe I was built to healthily spend with her in this very small apartment and in some ways it makes me a superhero, but to her, I’ve become the bad guy.

So as much as I know that we couldn’t go another day with that thing dangling around, her not eating, and worrying about when it will happen…I also hope she doesn't realize it was me because I’d really just like to be the good guy for a day.