A New Era

Today, Martin got braces on his teeth. He’s nine years old, almost 10. His permanent teeth haven’t all arrived, yet. We’ve known for years that braces would be in his future. His teeth are all over the place. They started with gaps and have pushed farther outward with his habit of pressing the front teeth against stainless-steel straws and drinking-glass rims.

Still, the decision to get braces now did not come easy. (As if any decision came easily, in Autismrecoveryland.) Some parents in my circles have complained of regressions and/or adverse reaction to the materials when their children started orthodontics. Martin is still growing. On the other hand, we understand that corrective orthodontics may help with Martin’s lingering pronunciation difficulties. (From Martin, “three” emerges as “free.”) We’d also like to have as much treatment accomplished as possible before he enters middle school.

I myself work bulky braces—those horrendous old-fashioned brackets attached to metal bands that wrapped around the teeth, including the front teeth—from age nine to age 13.

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Sorry for the poor resolution of this photo. I had to search the internet to find evidence that these types of braces existed, once upon a time. This is how my mouth looked for four-and-a-half years.

I am relieved that orthodontics have evolved at least enough to spare Martin that ordeal. After some research, Adrian and I decided on orthodontics with the Advanced Light Force (ALF) appliance, which apparently utilizes the jaw’s own growth patterns. Martin’s had the ALF palate expander for several months already. Several troublesome months. At first his fingers constantly found their way into his mouth, and the delicate device popped out. One was damaged in the process and required an expensive replacement. We forged ahead nevertheless. The palate expander is back in his mouth, and now brackets are attached.

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Also not the best photo! Martin was in no mood for a photo session after getting his brackets. Still, it is plain to see that he’s going to have a more comfortable time of orthodontics than I did.

Starting orthodontics reminds me that, physically, my little boy is verging on pre-teen. Though he’s still nine, his size-medium (“US 10-12”) pants are revealing glimpses of his ankles. I’m getting rid of t-shirts weekly because they no longer reach his waistband. The daily grind of autism recovery can make the days feel long and slow; the realization that childhood won’t last forever comes upon me quickly.