So we set up an appointment for her at St. Christopher's Hospital to get (a ridiculous amount of) cavities filled and a few caps placed. We had to be at the hospital at 8:30am on March 20th and of course it was snowing because why not, right? Bailey wasn't allowed anything to eat after midnight the night before and nothing to drink after 6am, so it makes total sense that when I woke her up and hustled her out the door at 7:15 the first thing she asked was "What are we having for breakfast?" The whole ride to the hospital, she kept telling me she was nervous and I kept trying to reassure her, "You'll do great. Remember? They're just going to give you some juice to help you go to sleep and when you wake up your teeth will be all fixed and beautiful!"
We made it to the Short Procedure Unit 5 minutes ahead of schedule (whaaat? I'm never early!) so Bailey had a few minutes to play with toys while I checked her in and we waited to be called back.
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She was cool until they opened the door and called her name. Then she got all clingy and nervous again. The nurses and staff that we met with were all wonderful, though, and put her as much at ease as possible. We got her into hospital "jammies", took out her earrings, and they gave her a coloring book and crayons to keep her occupied while we waited for the anesthesiologist to come by with her "sleep juice". Seeing her in those little green hospital-issued clothes did me in. She was angry because they were green and not pink, and I was {internally} freaking out and second-guessing sending my baby to be "put under" in a hospital.
The anesthesiologist came in a few minutes later and gave her the "juice" that would help her relax and fall asleep. She snuggled up in my lap with one of her favorite blankets from home, drank the juice, and we waited. And waited...and waited. It was supposed to kick in within minutes and make her super sleepy and calm. 20 minutes later, she was still wide awake and watching tv in the hospital bed. She had sort of calmed down a bit, to the point where I could actually lay her in the bed and hold her hand rather than having her sitting in my lap, but she definitely wasn't sleepy. The docs came back eventually, told me to give her one more kiss and say goodbye, and then they wheeled her to the OR. She was scared. I could tell by the look in her eyes and by how tightly she squeezed my hand before they wheeled her back, but she was so brave. I told her I loved her and to dream about princesses and ice cream and she said, "I will. I love you, mommy", and then she was gone. And I had much more time to kill than I'd expected. I hit up a coffee kiosk and the gift shop, and then waited almost 4 hours for her procedure to be over and for me to be able to see her in Recovery. I don't know why, but I kept thinking of this as just another "no big deal" thing. Oh, she'll go to sleep, get some cavities filled and caps placed, she'll wake up all happy, and we'll be home in time to watch her favorite afternoon tv shows. Sooooo not the case.
I heard her name announced over the walkie talkie, and a security guard walked me back to the Recovery Room to see her. Before the double doors had even opened, I could hear her crying. I'd expected to go back and find her sleeping or quietly coming out of anesthesia. Instead, she was crying and trying to climb out of the bed. The nurse apologized and said that Bailey had started freaking out as soon as the anesthesia began to wear off and that they didn't want to risk her hurting herself by falling over the bedrail that she was so hell bent on climbing over, so they helped me untangle her IV and other wires and let me hold her in my lap while the drugs wore off. She was a wreck. Her face was all puffy and there was blood dripping from her nose and her mouth. She was white as a sheet and kept coming in and out of consciousness, crying and flailing around a bit and then going limp in my arms with her head falling back. It was scary.
A few minutes later, the dentist came out to talk about how the procedure went. Up until that point, my sole focus had been on snuggling Bailey up and keeping her calm while the anesthesia wore off. I rocked her and whispered in her ear the few times she "came to" and was scared. I rubbed her arm and brushed the hair off her face, and blotted the blood that kept dribbling from her nose and the sides of her mouth. I didn't look at her teeth then, and I'm glad. He started off with her cavities. All filled and looking good. Her caps went on great and he liked the way they were looking at the moment. He reminded me that her face and jaw might be puffy for the rest of the day and then casually (to me) mentioned that "the extraction went really well". What? The extraction? What extraction?
The damage to the nerve was bad enough that they couldn't save this particular tooth, so they pulled it. The doctor gently pulled back Bailey's upper lip and there was a lovely hole right in front where her tooth used to be. "So, when should I make the appointment to have a replacement tooth placed?" I asked. Turns out there's no such thing, and she'll just have a hole there until her adult tooth grows in. The "good" news, he told me, was that her x-rays showed more movement than typical for her age, so we should expect her adult teeth to start coming in fairly quickly.
We talked for a few more minutes and I thanked him, and then looked down at Bailey, still out cold in my lap, head thrown back, mouth wide open now. She was scary pale and there was dried blood pooled in the corner of her mouth and she was just limp and not coming to the way the other kids in the room were. I kept picturing her sweet little smile and thinking about how this milestone in her development (her first lost tooth!) had been forced on her and how we had missed out on the excitement of the loose tooth phase, it finally falling out, and her tucking it under her pillow that night for the Tooth Fairy. There was no build up, no time to get used to the idea of a new big girl smile. She went to sleep with a mouth full of tiny little teeth and woke up with a big hole front and center. I felt sad for her and guilty, and I sat there and cried right in the middle of the Recovery Room.
A few minutes later, she started waking up and they wheeled us back to a different room where we could have a little more privacy. She was still so sleepy and out of it that they decided to keep her for a little while to make sure she wasn't going to be sick and was going to continue waking up normally. So it was more sit and wait. She would wake up for tiny stretches of time and cry or ask for her IV to be removed. I got her changed out of the hospital clothes that she hated so much and put her back in the comfy pants and top that she wore in to the hospital that morning, and then we let her sleep some more.
When she woke up for good, they offered her a popsicle (which she refused), then discharged her and wheeled her out to the car. I strapped her in and we headed back out into the snow. We got home a little after 4pm and she was still sleepy, so we snuggled up in bed until her aunt and uncle came to visit with balloons and soft treats. She was loopy, and went to sleep pretty early that night. She woke up the next morning feeling totally fine (SUCH a relief!) and found a note and some cash from the Tooth Fairy under her pillow.
And she's been fine ever since. I worried that she'd be angry (at the very least, sad and upset) that she woke up with her tooth missing, but she's proud. She kept showing people all weekend and, two weeks later, I'm finally getting used to her new smile. Her post-op checkup went well, and everything is looking good.
And, I mean...you guys. The Tooth Fairy visited her. How many 4-year-olds can say that?