Teething is a bitch

Pardon my language, but there is no way around it: teething is a bitch.

There. I said it. I feel a little bit better.

Last night, for the first time in three nights, darling daughter slept through the night. It was a far cry from her usual peaceful nighttime sleep, but at least dear husband didn't have to sleep on my yoga mat on her bedroom floor.

Except for the two year molars, darling daughter's teething days are slowly coming to an end. The only two teeth that have yet to come in are her bottom incisors. Shortly around New Year's, they started to come in, but they weren't really bothering her. Until Thursday. After she woke up from her afternoon nap, she developed a fever, which in her case usually indicates teething. We checked her gums and they were red and swollen. We have spent the last four days trying to comfort a crying, sad, overtired and cranky toddler. Dear husband had to spend two nights on her bedroom floor because she wouldn't sleep without someone in her room. On Saturday night, he spent three nights sleeping on her floor, which screams parental love to me. Or desperation for sleep. Or a little bit of both.

On Saturday, we could see the little whites of the top of the teeth poking through the gum line. Unfortunately, they have since retreated. Fortunately, the pain has somewhat retreated, too. Our happy little darling daughter is back, but she is still overtired. She refuses to nap today, to my dismay. So basically I'm back at square one: waiting for these incisors to finally appear. Until that happens, I'm praying that the worst is over and they poke through. Because, really, teething is a bitch.