Home > Adventures in Parenting > Archives > 2007 > April > 10 > Entry
A painful eruption
Eruption!
The word makes me think about the small container of ash I have that was collected by a family friend shortly after the 1980 event at Mount Saint Helens. I can still recall the television coverage of the ash plume rising thousands of feet into the air. The destructive force of the eruption was amazing and left a lasting impression on me as a 12-year-old.
I am learning there is a reason that dentists choose the word eruption to describe the event of a tooth emerging from the gums of a child. A new tooth certainly appears to be a painful and explosive moment in a child’s life.
As I write this, my daughter is experiencing the eruptive nature of numerous teeth. And, therefor, my wife and I are experiencing the teething process as well. The mini Krackatoa events are very distressing evidently to my little girl. They keep her from sleeping and have her chewing on any of the number of teethers - or anything else that will fit in her mouth - around our house.
We have done all we can to ease her pain - from Orajel to baby Tylenol and Motrin. We have even tried popsicles and ice cream, but the little one isn’t real keen on cold things yet. Nothing we have done really seems to take the edge off the teething. Then again, I guess pointing a fire hose at a volcano wouldn’t do much good either.
On one especially long evening, my wife looked at me and asked if I had ever had tooth pain so severe that it kept me awake. I can’t recall any moment in my life - even when I had my wisdom teeth removed - that I couldn’t sleep because of a toothache. As an adult, I have given little thought to my teeth other than to brush and floss several times a day. I now look at my teeth in a much different way.
I am not sure how many teeth my daughter already has. It’s tough to get her to sit still and open her mouth long enough to count. But I know she is going to have 20 of these eruptions in order to have a full mouth of pearly, white baby teeth. That must mean 20 agonizing moments for her. So, we will have at least 12 more mini Mount Saint Helens’ moments in our home.
This thought made me sit down and ponder the Tooth Fairy. You know, the mythical creature that slips in at night, removes the child’s tooth and replaces it with some kind of prize. I have a better job for this dental pixy. How about slipping in at the dead of night and replacing that cute, gummy grin with a bright, shiny - and painless - smile? Now, that would be truly performing a public service.
So, unless modern medicine - or the Tooth Fairy - comes up with a great way to deal with teething, we will keep plugging along. And try to comfort our daughter as each eruption breaks forth.
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