PTSD

Growing up and into adulthood, I had a terribly irrational fear of going to the doctor. Pregnancy fixed that problem. I was mildly terrified of the dentist, but got over that...I thought.

Today we went back to the dentist for our regular cleanings and we had an interesting conundrum going on: Lauren was scared to go and I was trying to convince her there was nothing to be scared about. Lauren might have been scared but I was bordering on serious anxiety after my last dental experience. Chase called it PTSD.

I told Lauren I would be there to hold her hand. I wish my mommy was there to hold MY hand. But both of us were brave and left the dentist feeling much relieved with no sliced tongues, stitches or cavities!  Now I just wish I got to pick a prize out of the treasure box too!