11. Teething - The Eleventh Plague

No one can accurately explain that awful time in life when your child begins the process of getting teeth. Or maybe that's just me and my child. Some people have easy teethers. Wow - that concept is as far away from me as lying on a perfect fine white sand, coconut palm tree, clear blue water Caribbean beach, complete with pina colada in hand. Very very far away. This process in our house has consisted of a lot of midnight screaming, drooling, chewing, licking, biting, shouting and general intense sadness. Nevaeh is not a good teether. And on top of it all, the teeth she has cut are very squew. Poor kid. The combined gene pool of me and Sid is just not a winner in this department. Our teeth are vaguely straight now, but that's due to years of orthodontic visits. Shout out to anyone who endured ulcers, elastics and that special wax... Back to the process known commonly as "teething". What people don't tell you is that it can resemble the tribulation. 

I have been in the deserts of Israel in mid summer and let me tell you, it is no joke. I am a bit of an Old Testament geek and after doing my own bit of "desert wandering", albeit with bottled water and air-conditioned transport, I got a whole new level of compassion for the Israelites and their wilderness experiences. I cannot even begin to fathom how awful it must have been to endure a swarm of flies or gnats in that sort of heat. Never mind the other terrible things that occurred. Having said all of that, I do feel as though enduring a teething toddler is akin to enduring one of the Big Ten, and from henceforth I shall call the process commonly known as "teething" as "The Eleventh Plague". Just when you think, "Maybe I'm getting a grip on this parenting thing!", your small human gets tonsillitis again and you realize that a grip is the last thing you possess. What you do possess is a list that includes a severe carb and caffeine addiction, a memory bank of every Barney song ever written (God bless that beloved purple dinosaur), morbid fascination with people who have more than two children and a deep yearning for a few hours of sleep in a row. A grip on parenting, however, is not in your possession. Or maybe that's just me... 

I write this as my little girl is lying quietly next to me - most uncharacteristically as she is normally running around from the moment she opens her eyes - because she has another bout of tonsillitis and sounds like a small, sad frog. Last night was another level of drama as we rushed her to hospital because she was choking on mucous and stopped breathing for a moment. My superhero husband grabbed her face, sucked muck out of her nose and mouth, thus clearing her airways and allowing her to vomit - everywhere. Superhero husband started shouting instructions at me, because in these times of crisis, I freeze like a sloth that's fallen asleep in a tree. I almost ran out the house without pants on - thankfully Sid told me to put some of those on my legs and I listened just before heading out the door in a t-shirt only. I drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital while he held her, and we went flying into the emergency room without shoes on or any baby necessities, but we got there alive. It's amazing how grateful you become for vomit all over your bed when it means your baby is actually able to take breaths in between the heaving. So although my little person is sad, I am grateful. I am grateful for amazing medical assistance at Life Fourways Hospital. I am grateful for my amazing husband who stayed super calm under enormous pressure.  I am grateful that we were able to buy the medicine needed. I am grateful for the internet which provides me with Psalty and Farmees which help to distract Nevaeh from her pain. I think I am beginning to learn to appreciate the small moments in life that are positive. Sometimes we become numb to cope with stress, but that can cause us to become numb to what's happy and good too. 

If anyone else out there is feeling a bit overwhelmed with what can seem like one difficulty after another whilst keeping the offspring alive, know that you are not alone. You are stronger than you think you are. If you need to eat the chocolate, drink the extra cup (or seven) of coffee or have a good cry in the bathroom, you go right ahead! This is to remind you that you're a superstar - you are alive and so is the offspring - you can do this!