It’s strange a lot of the time,

you don’t really register the important moments in your life as they happen.

You only see that they were important when you look back.

Like, that was an ending.

-Alyssa, ‘End of the Fucking World




I’m really attached to this feeling of separation and that it grows as my children get older (or rather, my fear of separation grows). Their baby teeth start to develop in utero from 6 weeks or something crazy like that. Before I even realised I was pregnant these teeth ‘buds’ were inside of me, growing. After they were born I could feel the teeth bulging beneath the gums and trace their outline with my finger before they cut through and cost us full nights of sleep.

And though the process of losing a milktooth is painless and exciting (for my children certainly), I felt my stomach lurch the first time my oldest lost a tooth, to see the blood and the hole it left behind, that hole felt like it symbolised something.  As time has gone on I’ve felt less sentimental over this and instead really enjoyed the excitement and anticipation that the children feel as each day of wobbling brings the promise of a gap/a lost tooth. I remember as a child that clicky back and forth feeling, when you could feel that sharp side and almost force your tongue into the tiny gap of the wobbly tooth, the bloody gum taste and the rawness in the hole it left behind.