Do It Yourself Orthodontics

         I am a midwife and have seen my fair share of bodily events that should have turned my stomach and didn’t.  I’m also a mom of four children and between the midwifery and motherhood I’ve been drenched in solids and liquids galore without any ill effects.  I’m the one in the family on the lookout for pimples and blackheads and a chance to surprise attack pop them on anyone who will sit still (under my crushing weight) long enough to let me.  I soak fingers in salt water and do minor surgery for the splinters, dig out the ingrown toenails, carefully spoon the wax out of my children’s ears using tiny Chinese ear spoons, letting them examine the ‘barbeque’ themselves.  I happily dressed the puncture wounds from a snow leopard’s bite on the neck of our poor puppy (before said creature devoured him a month later).   I can calmly look at my three year old’s cheek that is split open to the bone and think, ‘wow, I’ve never seen a bone from this angle.’

The one thing I don’t like is mouths or anything dental.  “I don’t do mouths.”  Any mouth complaint is immediately referred to my husband, aka Dr. Sahib.  A child who runs in screaming with a bloody mouth gets a cold washcloth and spot on my lap facing outward so I don’t have to see it and gives me a chance to practice the visualization and deep breathing I used while giving birth.   Anything beyond a little teeth brushing I start feeling that warm flush and ringing in my ears which precedes passing out.  This gives me compassion (instead of my typical response of, ‘wuss!’) for those who pass out at the sight of blood and birthing and placentas, and it gives me a good reason to pass all such cases to Dr. Sahib. 

However, dental crises do not cooperate with Dr. Sahib’s schedule.  He is not home this week and yesterday our daughter started complaining about pain from the space maintainer her orthodontist put in the top of her mouth.  That device is like the St. Louis arch on the roof her mouth, anchored between some of her back teeth (or that’s what I guessed it was like, never having looked at it for above reasons).  She wanted me to check it so I did and could see it had snapped off one of the back anchors on one side and that loose side of the arch was cutting into the sweet li’l roof of her mouth, poor darling.  

We live 2 days tortuous  travel (one way) from her orthodontist, and 1 day tortuous travel (one way) from any quack orthodontist.  My kids and I get carsick on these roads.  Dr. Sahib is not coming till next week.  How can I help my little girl?  I consult with Dr. Sahib and he capably suggests just snipping off the other end of the arch and taking the whole arch out.  Easy enough for him to say, and would be easy enough for him to do.  He can do anything, my Dr. Sahib, with confidence and skill.  But we’re talking about me…will I even be able to see the thing for the fuzzy singing stars in my eyes as I gaze on the raw roof of her mouth? 

I put that possibility out of my head.  Then, as if my mouth has a mind of its own, I tell her what Dr. Sahib suggests and she is all for it.  She encourages me, “Mommy, you won’t hurt me, you can do it.”  I’m thinking, “Oh girly, if you only knew!  I could make a huge mess of all this, might puncture the roof of your mouth right up to your sinuses!” I don't know why she trusts me or believes in me, but it does give me strength.

I dig through the tool box and grab the wire cutters.  My only experience with wire cutters is making wire sticks for roasting marshmallows, or cutting wire to make the skeletons of paper mache swords.  She opens wide and I stick the wire cutters in the general direction of the wire and realize I’m going to have to really look, to make sure I’m cutting the wire, not her gums.  Oh geeeee (well, that’s the polite version of the words in my head).   

I locate the connection point between the arch and its anchor, open the wire cutters and then close them hard and yank them out of her mouth as if they might burn her.  She is calmly lying on the couch, looking out the window, studying the patterns of snow on the Himalayas.  I fiddle with the wire and it comes out in my hand.  I sliced her gums next to the wire a little bit but she says it doesn’t hurt much and feels much better to have it all out. 

I collapse, shaking and feeling like I’m going to puke and she reassures me, “I’m fine, mama, you did great.”  All those clamoring fears of maiming her are silenced.   

And just like that there is a sense of triumph in me.  A sense of Divine provision for what I could not do by myself.  A realization of the gift of grace that I actually didn’t faint on top of her.  It’s a good beginning to the day to see that My Provider is again giving what we need, putting courage in my fearful heart, bringing healing to raw places, turning my eyes away from, “I just can’t do THAT” and re-orienting me to Love.  The Deliverer Of My Fears gives me strength to prefer another instead of staying stuck in my own limitations. High time some of this happened, not just in her mouth.