Cassidy had a dentist appointment today.

A dentist appointment doesn’t seem like that big of a deal really.  And for most kids it probably isn’t.

This dentist appointment was  a big deal though.

Two months ago when she went in for a cleaning the dentist suspected a cavity.  I say suspected because he couldn’t verify it with x-ray because Cassidy wouldn’t dream of letting him anywhere near her mouth with that big, scary x-ray machine.

The dentist also recommended the extraction of four stubborn baby teeth that were clinging to life, refusing to let her permanent teeth come through.

We made the decision to allow the dentist and his team to put her under general anesthesia to facilitate the extraction of those four teeth, the taking of the x-rays, and the filling of that cavity.

It was the first time any of my babies were put under general anesthesia and I was a little beside myself.

I know.  I know.  It’s not that big of a deal.  Not like open heart surgery or something.

But I held her as the anesthesiologist administered that shot in her arm that initially knocked her out.  I held her as she went from adamantly refusing a band-aid, to talking gibberish, to completely unresponsive.

Once she fell asleep they asked that I step back into the waiting room while they went to work in her mouth.

Jeff was waiting in the front room.  I tried to tell him about how Cassidy went limp in my arms, but I couldn’t make it through the story without crying.

There’s just something about holding an unresponsive child, my unresponsive child, that doesn’t sit well.

The procedure didn’t take long at all.

Before I knew it they were calling me back to the recovery area so that I could be there when she woke up.  The idea being that she’d never know I’d left at all.

The waking up was scarier than the falling asleep.

She woke up yelling.  Or crying maybe.  Basically she had outbursts of a yelping sound.  Her eyes were unfocused.  Her mouth gaped.  Her lips were crusted with blood.  Her skin was mottled, splotchy red.  She seemed to be awake but she wasn’t herself.  She was far from herself.

After having just signed a consent form that informed me of the possible risks (to include hospitalization and death no less) you can see why I was concerned.

I had momentary flashes of a catatonic Cassidy, trapped inside a body I’d consented to have irreversibly damaged.

I was scared.  And very, very regretful.

Within fifteen minutes she began to wake up more.  She recognized me but couldn’t get the word “mommy” to come out right.  She whimpered and clung to me.  She flung her body around haphazardly, presumably trying to get it to respond the way she wanted it to.

Even when the doctor told us that her condition was temporary, and completely normal, I couldn’t let go of those ugly flashes in my head.

Within twenty minutes of leaving the doctor’s office she began to return to her normal self.  She started forming real words instead of those gibberish yelps.  And when she insisted on watching Monsters Inc. on the DVD player in the minivan (and stopping at Starbucks for a frappuccino btw) I knew she was going to be just fine.

She’s resting at home now, watching Monsters Inc on the couch as I type these words.  She’s groggy, but completely fine.

Experiences like this one remind me how blessed I truly am. 

I sometimes sink into those “why me” moods when I wonder why my baby girl was born with a disability and has to struggle so hard to do and learn the things that come so naturally to her siblings.

Those moods don’t last long though; something always happens to snap me out of it.

Something like what happened today.  Something that reminds me that despite the hurdles in her path, this little girl of mine is a miracle.  We’ve been so richly blessed in that Cassidy is far more alike a typical child than she is different.  Seeing her in that strange in-between state today reminded me that even when she is driving me crazy with repeated questions and won’t-take-no-for-an-answer requests, I need to choose gratitude. 

I need to be thankful that she has the wherewithal to be insistent.  Thankful that she has words to express herself.  Thankful that she has the energy to bounce off the walls.  Thankful that she has the will to do all that she does.

Everyone needs a reminder from time to time.  Mine came today.