The Queenager had her bottom wisdom teeth removed this morning. (She only has two, but the two she has are the hardest to remove.)
The oral surgeon had explained what he would do, and she wasn't happy. Unfortunately, they were already growing off to the side and would create havoc if allowed to remain. Obviously I went with her, but I warned her that I wouldn't be able to stay during the procedure. (Had they given me the option, I'm not sure I could have stayed, but the option wasn't even there.)
They gave her a twilight drug and the procedure only took half an hour. I told her that she wouldn't be aware of most of it. That was the only thing I could do to bring her pulse down and take away the fear. When I went in afterwards, tears were trickling down her face. My heart broke.
I'm not sure what I'll be like if she ever had to undergo anything more serious, or if she ever gives birth. I remember when I went into labour with her. I phoned my own mum in England and told her I was going to the hospital. As we said goodbye I detected a crack in her voice and wondered why on earth she was crying. Obviously, she had an inkling of the agony that was to come, but I know now, that as a mother, she would willingly have taken my place if she could.
I think mothering is the hardest when we are powerless to take away the pain and discomfort.
Anyway, as I write, she's drugged up to her eyeballs, watching the Kardashians, so everything's OK now.