Tag Archives: gummy

Elation… deflation…

12 May


I was so excited yesterday!

Baby had her six month checkup – she’s right on track on all of her growth charts, barely flinched at the needle. Made strange. All great things for a little baby!

For her evening meal, I was feeding her yet another installment of her sweet potatoes.

Over the previous two days, I could have sworn she was biting down on the spoon with more than just gums.  (For people who’ve fed kids before, you know that teeth under a spoon just feel differently.)

But, each time I tried to rub her gums, she’d fight her face away from my hand, push my fingers away with her tongue, and if I managed to get even a small feel, there definitely didn’t seem to be any teeth there. Weird.

Anyway, last night I felt it again with the spoon, and managed to get a good feel of her lower gums with my finger and ‘lo – bottom left front toothy is poking it’s wee head out! (Picture us trying to get a picture of it later. HA!)

I was so excited! I let the family know – I cheered, I had the baby and my husband giggling.

Then I got the text back from my Mum.

“No more gummy smiles.”

And I’m not going to lie, my heart broke just a little.

Those gummy smiles got me through the really long runs while I was training for this years half marathon.  They got me to the finish line during both of my post-pregnancy goal races (10K and 21.1K respectively).

They melt my heart when I find that she’s backed herself around the living room again in her attempt to crawl, and has inadvertently gotten herself stuck under another piece of furniture.

She looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, her face all serious, and cracks a gummy smile, and I fall in love with her again. Or more. Or both.

And now they’re going away, never to return.

Today, I tried to elicit the particular furniture-stuck-baby gummy smile from her for the camera. I know that I can see it in my head. It’s there, but it’s not the same. I kind of caught one… but every time she really let one loose, I just missed it, or she’d see the camera and ‘pose’ (yes, she poses already).

A voice in my head says that maybe I should just treasure the memory, and know that I experienced it in person, not through the lens of a camera.  The other half of me needs to be able to see those smiles forever.

I text my Mum back that I’m really sad now.

She says not to be, that toothy smiles are just as great as the gummy ones.

I know she’s right – they’re just as great, and I’ll love them, too. But they aren’t the same.  I’ve gone from an awesome milestone high, to an once-again realization that there’s no turning back low.

And a realization that I don’t want to miss a single thing.

And my heart’s still broken. A bit.