Stacie Sherman

I decided a long time ago not to fix my daughter’s two protruding front teeth.

When she was about 9 or 10, we had an unfortunate event with an ignorant lady at a restaurant, who made fun of my daughter’s buck teeth, by making bunny faces to her daughter. It was the first time I had even dealt with such ignorance. I couldn’t get the scene out of my head for weeks. Soon after, I visited a special dentist to discuss braces.

Dentists have never been much fun with my daughter. She refuses to even open her mouth for them so they can look at her teeth. At the dentist we have been going to since my daughter was little, it takes three of us to hold her down while the dentist has to use a special instrument to keep her mouth open. And that’s just for a cleaning.  She had her first filling last year, and he had to sedate her to get that done.

This dentist did not think it was worth the effort to put braces on my daughter’s teeth, and I had agreed. But the restaurant incident had me doubting myself. If I had her teeth fixed,  incidents like that would never occur, right? She’d look normal, right?

I took her to a second dentist, who was a lot more opinionated than the first. He assured me he could do it and it would be for the best. Before I knew it, he had my daughter lying down, her entire body below her necked wrapped up tight like a cocoon, and he was making a mold for braces. I stood next to her as he talked over her, telling me how wonderful he was with special needs kids. All I saw was my daughter staring at me with fear, telling me with her eyes to get her the hell out of there.

And so I did. And we never returned.

I thought long and hard about it. On one hand, she would fit in more, right? No strange stares, no little kids pointing.

And it was safer for her without those big teeth, especially if she fell and hit her mouth.

But on the other hand, there was no certainty the braces would stay in. Many kids with autism have ridiculous strength. My long-time dentist told me he had known of many kids like my daughter who had just ripped the braces right off their teeth.

Was it worth putting her through the procedure? She would have to be completely knocked out in order for it to happen. And then when she woke up, she would be confused, and in pain. Not just that day, but for months to come.

Was it really a necessary procedure?

It wasn’t necessary. So if I did it, who would I be doing it for?

Would I do it for me? So I didn’t have to deal with the stares, and I could feel accomplished at having fixed another one of her problems?  No way.

Or was it for the ignorant mom at the restaurant, so she didn’t have something to make fun of?  F that.

This was for my daughter.  But wait a minute. Did she want braces? She didn’t care how she looked. She didn’t care how other people thought she looked.  That was part of what made her so special.

And there, I had my answer. My daughter  is perfectly imperfect. She is beautiful, big teeth and all.

If she is happy, I am happy. If strangers stop and stare, they will have to deal with me.