In Unexpected Places

While browsing through a Hallmark store in December, searching for Christmas gifts for my son's aunt and new cousin on his dad's side of the family, LM found a gift he wanted to buy me. I told him to take it to the register where the clerk rung up the sale and place the secret item in a bag for him. I paid without looking at the slip and promised him I had no clue of what it was. He was grinning from ear to ear and even had the sales team remarking on how cute he was with his gift.

It turns out the gift was a silver picture frame with the words "best mom" inscribed on the bottom. Since Christmas, the frame has been proudly placed on the piano, but still displays some blonde curly-haired mother smiling at her infant child, as the frame awaits a rare picture of LM and I together. I thought I had one from the cruise, but I can't seem to find it now. So the blonde woman is our current winner of "Best Mom of the Year" and from time to time I make comments about her success, attributing most of it to her golden locks.

This morning, I was certain the blonde woman would win again in 2007. Today, I woke my son from his Saturday morning slumber and took him to the periodontist for his appointment. He knew it was scheduled. He knew it was today. He was as prepared at a 10 3/4 year old boy can be. But there is nothing that really can prepare you for two extractions and a frontal frenectomy. LM has had three bottom teeth extracted before. His baby teeth and permanents aren't aligned, so the baby roots aren't dissolved and the teeth have no inclination to come out. He knew what to expect for that part. A frenectomy is done to trim the piece of skin you feel above your front teeth that connects your upper lip to your top gum. His comes down a bit too far and would cause a permanent space between his two front teeth if we didn't have it fixed.

The needle for the novacaine needed to be inserted in several spots today, not just one like last time, which was hard to endure, but LM toughed it out. When she started to pry out the first tooth, LM expressed some discomfort, so she gave him more novacaine, meaning more injections into his gum, pushing the limits of his endurance. The teeth were stubborn. Their roots had not dissolved at all, so it was a push and pull process to get them to finally come out. The holes were more gaping than the Doc preferred, which meant stitches to hold them shut so they could heal. Watching more needles go in and out of his mouth, was a difficult process for my Little Man.

Crouched down near his knees, out of the way of the doc and assistant, I held tightly onto his little hand as he squeezed onto me for dear life. Every now and then he'd give three squeezes in a row and I'd give the signal back with four of my own ("I love you," "I love you, too"). With the teeth removed, we moved on to what I thought was surely the easier process, the frenectomy. As it turns out, that little bit of skin is a pistol. It took some trimming and lots and lots of bleeding and then several more stitches than I had anticipated to get it all repaired. With an assistant holding his upper lip nearly up over his nose and more pushing and prodding and clipping and stitching, LM had all he could bear. Both of his hands squeezed onto both of mine as we hung on to each other and the hope it would be over soon. I kept telling him we were nearly done, despite having no actual knowledge of how much longer it would be.

I was in completely the wrong place. I could see everything. I saw the plyers yanking on his teeth to get them to come out. I saw the second tooth finally pull free and fall to the floor covered in blood. I saw the snip of his skin and the blood that came gushing out of his lip. I saw the inverted-V of open flesh that formed when she was done snipping, and the way it slowly closed back up as she stitched.

And I watched the tears roll down my little boy's face as the process took far longer than we were prepared for. As the doctor neared the end of the stitches, I heared him say to her, "Be done." He had had enough. She stitched one last stitch and then cleaned up his face and let him sit up into my embrace. He wasn't the only one with tears.

I had promised him before it all began that we would go to Lowe's afterwards. I needed to get some shelves for his closet and LM absolutely loves to find new gadgets and gizmos at Lowe's. As we left the office, I figured he wouldn't want to go anymore, he'd want to just go home. He headed out to the car while I paid the bill, not even waiting to grab his book or his K'nex toy.

When I reached the car, I climbed in the backseat and held him. He sobbed a little and I told him that he was the bravest boy I knew. That it was okay to be scared and that it was over now. He whispered that he had been terrified and I squeezed him tight and told him he was courageous and strong. After awhile, I asked if he just wanted me to take him home, and he said, no, he really did want to go to Lowe's.

We went. I told him the "tooth fairy" had $20 with his name on it that he could spend and his face lit up a little. We came home and I settled him on the couch with an ice pack, tylenol and a cup of soup. He ate popscicles and played computer games for most of the afternoon. I made vegetable soup for dinner and then, since he was feeling okay, we went to see the movie, "Bridge to Terabithia."

While I was cleaning up the kitchen, I saw LM getting out the digital camera. I offered to help him take a photo of his mouth, but he quickly corrected me. "I don't want a picture of that. I just think it's about time we replaced that blonde mom with the true Best Mom - you."

How do I know God loves me? Because I could never be worthy of this child's love on my own. In unexpected places, He shows me what grace feels like. It is truly a gift from Heaven above.