My husband bought me an electric toothbrush for Christmas last year. It is a sure sign of adulthood- the excitement I felt as I unwrapped this package and realized the contents. The box was sleek, and white with blue lettering. I ran to the bathroom to plug the base into the wall and set the toothbrush itself onto the charging station. I couldn’t wait for it to charge so I somewhat impatiently pushed the power button, nothing, no charge. So I set it back down, distracted myself by reading the back of a shampoo bottle for at least thirty seconds, tried again, still nothing. So I left the bathroom but hurriedly checked it again as soon as I could, let me tell you, worth the wait.
Perhaps if this was the blog my dentist wrote, this would be it. Maybe the title would have been “Toothbrushes Make Great Gifts”, my excitement being a perfect example. Alas, I am no dentist. To all concerned, loose teeth actually make me weak in the knees and many times my own children have sent me from the room, my insides feeling like jelly, as they have twisted and tugged on loose baby teeth. I am even cringing as I type this, just thinking of those moments.
Anyway, after using this amazing toothbrush twice a day for a couple weeks, something happened. One night as I pushed the power button, it was different. There was a little delay in the bristles spinning. But I went about my two minutes without concern. Next morning, same thing happens, but again, I go on. That night though as I pushed the power button, my toothbrush only beeped. When I first heard the three beeps they sounded kind of sad. The next time they sounded almost angry and my toothbrush wouldn’t do anything else! I read the manual, I looked at the warranty, I tried to find the flaw that could make my toothbrush refuse to continue going.
I tracked the power cord from the base where the toothbrush charged to the wall outlet. It was unplugged. Imagine me relief when all my toothbrush needed was to be plugged back in. After some downtime, the beeps were gone and she was up and running. A few times now this has happened. Sometimes I feel like I see the world differently than others. Almost like my brain is caught in some sort of magical realism where the mundane seems more extraordinary and things like toothbrushes connect me to a bigger picture.
When T was born, I struggled with Postpartum Depression. More on that later. One of the things I remember so clearly, was the incredible therapist that helped me through this transition, asking me if I had brushed my teeth that day. I began rummaging around the diaper bag for some gum or a leftover mint, because in that moment I realized I had not brushed my teeth in some time. “Moms with newborns don’t have time for that” I tried to explain. Wasn’t she a professional? Didn’t she know this? I had bought into this belief that self sacrifice made me a good mom, self care did not. Not resting, not showering, not eating nourishing food, were sure signs that I was sacrificing enough. We don’t support new parents in our culture. Having a newborn is more like a period of hazing- like we are needing to walk through fire to prove our worthiness of membership in the club. We let women nurse until their nipples bleed- telling them to “tough it out” . (PLEASE know that bleeding nipples are not necessary and are actually a sign that support is absolutely imperative.) We pressure the importance of getting back to work, back to the gym, back to the jeans worn pre-pregnancy. The other parent is often expected to adjust to this new role without complication or hesitation. Our culture screams two things at once… “When are you having a baby? AND “Get back to normal!” Having a baby changes every “normal” you ever had, but isn’t this the idea?
Maggie was her name, this therapist/ saint, that asked me if I brushed my teeth. She explained that brushing your teeth was a very small segment of the day to dedicate to self care. It was a building block to more. Today we brush, tomorrow we incorporate that shower, eventually a nap or a new book or a walk alone.
So one night when my toothbrush emitted it’s three little beeps, telling me it needed a recharge, I rolled my eyes. I did, I rolled my eyes at this toothbrush. How dare this toothbrush demand a break? How could this thing that was an integral part of my life just ask for time off to recharge? Yet it did. I stood in the mirror. I looked at the woman looking back, the beauty industry would say she had dark, puffy eyes, wrinkles like wings coming from her the corners of her eyes, dry patches of skin….instead of hearing the voices of people I didn’t know, I heard the voice of someone I actually knew well. And her voice sounded like mine. She told me she was tired. She told me it had been a day. She told me her battery was needing a recharge. Beep. Beep. Beep. She told me to climb back in my base, plug back in and fill back up.
It seems that my toothbrush and I are on the same cycle of needing a recharge. When her battery is depleted, we both get set down. She in her charging station, me on the floor of the bathroom. I read for a few minutes, give myself a facial, paint my toenails, sometimes I just breathe.
When she asks for a break, I no longer judge her, I just give her what she needs until we are both up and spinning again.
Beep, beep, beep. Not a sign of weakness, a sign of greatness waiting to be had.
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