My Toddler Had Baby Teeth Removed: What I Wish I Knew And I’m Looking For Your Stories
I’m folding clean socks on the couch last night, and my 26-month-old Lila crawls into my lap, shoves her fist full of lint out of the way, and opens her mouth wide to show me the gap where her two top front baby teeth used to be. She grins, proud of her new trick, and the kitchen light hits the empty space. I realized in that moment I haven’t talked about this with anyone but my husband and our pediatric dentist. No playgroup chats, no casual social media posts, just quiet worrying and small daily adjustments that no one warns you about.
Lila’s two front teeth came in when she was 10 months old, and within three weeks, our dentist pointed out they were already discolored and soft. It was molar hypomineralization, a common enough condition that disrupts tooth development before teeth even erupt, he said. We tried everything: daily fluoride treatments, special strengthening toothpaste, sealants, even small stainless steel crowns when the teeth started to crumble. But by 18 months, both were abscessed. The only option was to remove them.
I remember the morning of the surgery like it was yesterday. We had to be at the children’s hospital at 5:30 a.m., no food or drink after midnight, so Lila woke up hungry and confused, pointing to her sippy cup on the counter and crying so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. I held her in the parking lot while we waited for check-in, rocking her back and forth, because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. The nurse came to take her back 20 minutes later, and my husband and I sat in the waiting room scrolling past the same 10 social media posts for two hours, not talking much. When the surgeon came out to say everything went fine, I walked into the recovery room and found Lila curled up on a cot, her little cheeks puffy, a bloody bib tucked under her chin, and she just clung to my neck and wouldn’t open her eyes for almost an hour.
Recovery at home was messier than any blog post or dentist handout prepared me for. The first three days, all she wanted to do was sit on my lap and rewatch the same episode of Bluey on repeat. I’d read to offer cold popsicles and applesauce to soothe swelling, but cold hurt her numb gums more than anything. Warm (not hot) mashed bananas were the only thing she’d eat for 48 hours, that’s the first tip I wish someone had told me. After the first week, she started pulling away whenever I brought out the toothbrush, terrified anything near her mouth would hurt again. I tried coaxing, I tried letting her brush my teeth first, nothing worked until I stuck a pack of cartoon stickers in the bathroom drawer. Now, every time she lets me brush all her teeth without a fight, she gets one sticker to put on her playhouse door. That small routine cut our bedtime battles by 80% in a month.
The most unexpected part was the judgment from strangers. I’ve had a woman come up to me at the library, point out Lila’s gap, and ask if I let her walk around with a bottle of juice all night, like I caused this myself. I used to stammer and get flustered, but now I just say, “It’s a developmental condition, not cavities from bad care” and most people back off. That’s another small, concrete trick I’ve figured out—you don’t owe anyone a long explanation, just a short line to shut down the unsolicited judgment.
Three months later, things are mostly normal. Lila’s talking more every day, she can eat crackers and apple slices again, and she thinks her gap-toothed grin is the funniest thing in the world. But I still have questions I can’t find answers to. I worry about her permanent teeth shifting before they come in, I worry about other kids teasing her when she starts preschool next fall, I still have nights I lie awake wondering if I made the wrong choice agreeing to general anesthesia for a toddler. When I searched online for other parents going through this, all I found was generic medical information or horror stories from complicated cases. There was no one talking about the messy, ordinary in-between.
For a while after, Lila stopped making hard “p” and “b” sounds because it hurt her gums, and I panicked that her speech would be delayed. I tried a bunch of fancy activities I saw online, but the only thing that worked was blowing bubbles together every afternoon. It got her used to moving her mouth the new way again, and after two weeks, her sounds came back. That’s another small trick that worked for us, just in case you’re in that spot right now.
That’s why I’m putting this out there and looking for your stories. If you’re a parent of a toddler who had one or more teeth removed, for any reason—cavities, developmental issues, injury—I want to hear from you. I don’t need a motivational speech or a perfect happy ending. I just want to know what your experience was like. What’s the thing no one warned you about? Did your toddler’s speech stay on track? What small tricks worked for you during recovery? Do you still worry about the future, too?
Last weekend, Lila picked a dandelion out of our front yard, ran over to me, and opened her mouth wide to blow the seeds. The gap in her teeth sent seeds flying all over my shirt, and we both laughed so hard we fell down in the grass. Most days, this is just our new normal. It’s fine. But I know I’m not the only parent who’s walked through this, and I’d love to connect with others who get it.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » My Toddler Had Baby Teeth Removed: What I Wish I Knew And I’m Looking For Your Stories