Get your minds out of the gutter. I haven’t done any grinding in… well, far too long.
I’m talking about my teeth right now.
You know; a medical issue that originates somewhere outside of my uterine cavity.
As you all may remember, going to the dentist isn’t exactly my favorite thing to do. I brush. I floss. I use that toothpick looking thing in between my teeth. I even run that rubber headed tool across my gums.
And I do all of this every single night.
My oral care regime is impeccable.
And still – my gums bleed. Granted, my teeth look great (yes, I do love compliments on my smile - 4 years in braces earned those bad boys!), but my gums are and always have been a mess; at least by dental standards. I’m not sure any laymen would ever notice anything was amiss, but every time I sit down in that dental chair…
I feel like I’m getting a failing grade.
For a perfectionist like me, I'm sure you can imagine how frustrating that is.
Much of this was cleared up on my last visit when the dentist read off a list of conditions that can lead to swollen gums and I screamed out in joy when she read “hormonal fluctuations.” For the first (and only) time in my life I gleefully proclaimed that I had endometriosis.
And then I sat back in the chair and realized how weird it was to have gotten excited about that.
But, at the time it felt like redemption; my less than perfect gums were not my fault! I left feeling vindicated – after I had of course given the dentist and hygienist a full run down of my condition and my plans to pursue IVF this year.
If you don’t know where this story is going yet – you have never been the woman who has told everyone in her life that she was going to have a baby, only to have it turn out that she wasn’t.
You have never been the woman who has had to announce the same sad news over and over and over again.
You have never been the woman who has just been met by the sweetest hygienist in the world as she excitedly grinned and rubbed her belly and said “Are you?” the second you walked in the door.
The excitement in her face was catching – I could tell how sure she was that it would have worked, and for a brief moment I felt that surety as well.
But then I remembered the truth.
And I had to explain it to my dentist, hygienist, and the office assistant all at once.
All without shedding a single tear.
Because at this point it really has just become a story I tell. One I’ve had to tell so many times now (in the short time span of two weeks) that I can do it without emotion – I can now tell it as though I’m not affected at all.
Even though it is a wound that has cut so deep I’m not sure it will ever heal.
But really? Why would my dental team ever need to hear that? They don’t need to know how hurt I am over this. All they need to know is that the girl who was so excited over the future the last time they met hasn’t gotten her way.
Yet.
It was during my exam that I obtained even more information to blame on my endometriosis though.
Yes, my gums are still a bloody mess – but that’s old news.
The new dirt is that I’m a grinder.
A stress grinder.
Now, Teeny has actually called me out on this a few times because she says that when I get deeply relaxed on her table, she can actually hear my teeth clicking. It’s not something I’ve ever noticed myself doing though. I don’t wake up with a sore jaw, and I really had no idea I was grinding as bad as I apparently am.
I went in this morning thinking that I had a cavity though, because chewing just about anything hard has shot a zing of pain through the left side of my mouth the last few weeks – I had no idea it could have been the result of my grinding.
That’s right. There is no cavity – just tooth enamel that has literally been ground down to the nerves.
Lovely.
When the hygienist asked me if I’ve been stressed, all I could do was laugh and hope she understood.
I think she did.
She sent me home with a special toothpaste that should seal up those painful spaces, and the promise of a mouth guard if my grinding continues. Her belief though (based on the last two years of visits with no evidence of grinding in the past), was that it was completely stress induced and would hopefully subside soon.
I didn’t have the guts to tell her that I doubt my stress will be subsiding anytime soon.
In fact, I’m willing to guess that my anxiety levels are going to be high until I’m able to rub my belly and smile back as I say “Yes. Yes I am.” when someone asks "Are you?"
In truth, they should probably give me that mouth guard until that baby is safely inside my belly.
But of course, then there are the sleepless nights, and terrible twos, and teenage years.
Oh heck – maybe I’ll keep it until the kids 45 or so.
Just to be safe.
ADSPACE
