from the archives: family of the month

Over the next few months, I will be reposting some of my previously published newsletter essays here on the blog. This story, a brief glance into our dentistry sage, is still a favorite.

Summer 2022

In mid-May, around Cannon’s 8th birthday, we went to the dentist for one of our twice yearly check-ups. Visiting the dentist has always been, to put it mildly, a bit anxiety inducing for Cannon. He does not like people he does not know near his mouth with metal in their hands (let’s be honest, do any of us?), but his ability to cope with that fear with his autism is nearly non-existent. He simply flees the situation. Up until maybe a year ago, we could kindasorta coax him into being very gently held down to the chair if he had a fun toy in his hand and the dentist took approximately nine seconds to determine the state of his cavities. But he turned eight this year and was like “yeah, hard no on the sharp metal, y’all. I’m out.” 

Sleep dentistry it is. For those unfamiliar with it, sleep dentistry involves general anesthesia, and a small team of people to make happen, so we scheduled the appointment for what was the soonest available, two months later. No big deal, what’s another eight weeks to get the plaque off?

Well, that plan was all well and good until a few days later, I noticed a bright red spot on his gum, above his two top teeth. Over the next three days, it went from red to bubble to white to frightening. Back to the dentist we went. 

Cannon opened his mouth long enough for the dentist to say from a solid three feet away, which was as close as he would let her get and still open his mouth, “Ohhh.” Never a good utterance from a doctor. She turned to the dental assistant and told him, “We’re going to need an asap on the sleep appointment. I’m worried there could be more infection in his mouth.” 

Moments like this really make a girl feel like she’s crushing motherhood, you know? 

They moved the sleep appointment to two weeks out. His infection got worse. He refused the antibiotic. I called and begged them to move his appointment up again, they found a spot, but I didn’t call back in time to claim it and they gave it away which led to me calling the receptionist and yelling at her and I am actually wincing at the screen as I write that. Not my finest moment. I called back and apologized.

This story ends well as they did find Cannon a sleep appointment just a few days later when someone cancelled, pulled a lot of teeth, filled a lot of cavities, helped us strategize ways we can get him to use toothpaste and not just water, and we went on our way.

Four weeks later, I returned to the dentist at 7:30 in the morning with four more children for their check-ups. On the whole, going to the dentist with one child with autism is significantly harder than going to the dentist with four children who do not share his anxiety and sensory alarms, so I was generally very chill about this visit. But there are still four children, two of them are three-year-olds, in an office building that was relatively quiet before we stepped in. 

Mom! A buh-fly on the wall! A buh-fly! A buh-fly! Ava yelled no less than 17 times. She has only one volume and it checks in around 90 decibels.    

Mom! Look! It’s a big couch! Beckett squeals as he throws his body at full speed onto the blue cushions.

Harper! I was going to sit there! Jordi demands.

Too bad, got here first! Harper responds. A minor tussle of hip power begins over that one spot on the couch even though there are four couches in this lobby and we are the only ones here at 7:30 in the morning. 

“Hey, one of you pick another seat, please,” I tell them sternly. “And yes, I see the butterfly, Ava, it’s very pretty!” Then I smile at the receptionist. “Checking the Blackburn kids in,” I offer. “If you didn’t already have a wakeup call, here it is!” 

She chuckles back at me. “Good morning, Katie, I’m Hailey.” 

Oh. My cheeks feel warmer instantly. Yes, yes I remember yelling at you on the phone about a month ago, I’m thinking. I respond by addressing the elephant in the room right away. “Hailey, hi! I’m so sorry again for that angry phone call last month. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s truly ok. You were just being a good mama,” she says as she hands me a clipboard with paperwork for the four loud children behind us. 

“Well, thank you for being so gracious.” Seriously Hailey, thank you for being so gracious.

Within a few minutes, the dental assistants call all four kids back, and we proceed to take over Dr. Molly’s office for the next 45 minutes. The kids put on sunglasses and watch Peppa Pig on the strategically placed ceiling televisions and I get lots of reminders to supervise this one’s brushing a bit more and this one’s got a small gum infection here so be sure you’re flossing every day and you might consider an orthodontist consult for this one and we’ll have to make an appointment to come back and have the cavity filled on this one. I hopped back and forth between four chairs and four computers and signed my name four times to authorize whatever it was they were telling me. We all made it out with only a moderate need for me to assure the dentist my kids do brush their teeth (most of the time). Could have been much worse.

The kids made their exit the same way they made their entrance, that is, loudly and with several warnings to not touch the tools on the tray next to them, the x-ray machine we walked by, the water fountain near the receptionist, or each other. I make all the follow up appointments necessary, schedule the next cleaning in six months, and as Hailey stands up from her desk to hand me the appointment reminder, I notice her adorable baby bump for the first time.“Oh Hailey! You’re having a baby!” I gush.

“Yes, our first.”

“That is so exciting!” I tell her genuinely, thinking back to my first pregnancy and the deep anticipation of meeting my daughter that I carried every single day – there’s nothing like your first. Also feeling even more terrible I yelled at a pregnant woman. 

“This crew probably makes it look scary,” I joke, “but you’re going to have so much fun being a mom.” I turn to four of my six kids trying to open the miniature toys in their goodie bags, then, as Beckett yells my name three times to help his tiny fingers get the wrapper off, I add “Never a dull moment.” 

“Thank you, Katie. We are so excited.”

You should be, Hailey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Friends, if you’re still following our dentistry saga, this is where it ends, for now. Last week an envelope came in the mail from Dr. Molly’s office. It didn’t look like a bill – I would know, I’ve seen a lot of those – and it had a big sticker on the outside. I opened it to find a card signed by the entire office staff and a note that said, “You’ve been chosen as our family of the month! Enjoy a movie on us!” 

WHAT.

In four weeks we had four visits to Dr. Molly’s office. Cannon refused to open his mouth, on three separate occasions, and attempted to pull the electric brusher right out of its holder on two. I yelled at the receptionist over the phone. I brought four loud children back just a few weeks later. We took over the dental chairs. The paperwork done on my kids alone has been a part-time job for someone in that office. Every single child in my family needs to brush their teeth better and somehow, after all of that, these kind professionals deemed us the family of the month and it humbles me to no end that where I see a circus of chaos and a mom with a long list of shortcomings, they see love. 

What grace.