Free Fridays: I dowan.

10 April 2026

There are some painful things you have to go through in life in order for you to become a stronger human being. Maybe a public legal battle, maybe a tough work project… or maybe one I had to go through yesterday – taking your child to the dentist for tooth extraction.

I believe I have come out a stronger human being today.

Sarah single-handedly did that for me.

Here’s what happened….

“Ok, bye guys. All the best, Sarah!” I kiss Fadza and Sarah off as they left home to go to the dentist. The mood was good, Sarah was chirpy and ready, all good. I was happily at home, doing laundry, cleaning the house, as I await their return.

Hmmm it’s taking a while. So I turned on a podcast about Aisha r.a., learned about her slander story and the lessons from it, and they still hadn’t come home.

I sat on the couch and put my head down for a bit. Think I napped without realising.

Then I heard footsteps.

Angry footsteps.

Uh-oh, what happened?

Fadza, completely sour-faced, marched into the house, straight to the bedroom. Sarah, walking slowly behind him, head down.

“What’s wrong?” I rushed to Sarah.

She didn’t do it. Teeth was the same crookedness as before. One and a half hours of Fadza taking her to the dentist, convincing her nicely, convincing her forcefully, nothing worked. The girl squirmed her way out of the tooth extraction. LIKE A PRO.

Dads, I tell you. Too soft.

Step aside, let the Mother in.

I called the dentist and managed to get another appointment after lunch. After feeding her well, I told her that we were going to go again, and this time she’s going to go through with it. I even let her play games for a few minutes to give her a slither of fun before the doctor yanks out her teeth.

On the way, I told her about being strong, about facing your fears, about maturity. The 7-year old gave me a thumbs up and I thought ok good, she understands. What a star, my Sarah.

Few minutes later

“I DON’T WANNA DO IT. I DOWAN. I DOWANNNNN,” was what happened on the dentist chair.

“Sarah, we talked about this, you are going to be a brave girl, right?” The doctor, Dr Ibrahim, so so kind, talked to her very patiently.

“NO, I DON’T WANT! I DON’T WANT TO BE A BRAVE GIRL.”

Yes, from this moment onwards, she spoke in all caps.

An hour later

“Sarah, just relax and let the doctor do his job ok? It’s not going to hurt if you stay still and calm down,” I try to comfort her.

“NO. IT’S PAINFUL!” Sarah said. Sorry, shouted.

“No, It’s not,” I said nicely.

“IT’S PAINFUL!!!”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW IT’S PAINFUL?! YOU HAVEN’T EVEN TRIED! HOW DO YOU KNOW IT’S PAINFUL?!”

*clears throat*

Sorry about that moment of burst. It’s been an hour in this clinic.

Dr Ibrahim would do all the prep work – putting the pink numbing gel, putting ice, to prepare for the needle. Sarah was ok with all that – she was calm, she listened to us prepping her, she agreed it was going to be ok, she agreed not to move when Dr injects her. She even negotiated how many seconds it’ll be – from twenty seconds, she negotiated down to ten seconds and we would count together.

Then everytime we got close to the injection and the doctor picks the needle up, she moves and squirms and forgets all her sweet promises.

We tried everything. I spoke nicely, I threatened, I bribed her with ice cream, I pulled her to the side to speak to her privately, I turned on YouTube, I turned off Youtube, we even took the cute alligator casing out from the doctor’s needle in case that was the problem for Sarah. I even told her that we have to put “Scared Sarah” in the pocket for a while and I actually took a piece of the air and put it in my pocket, guys. Like a cuckoo person. “Now Scared Sarah is in my pocket, it’s only Brave Sarah left in you.”

That’s how desperate I was.

Two hours later

I pinned her down, but she was so bloody strong that she wrestled all of us and managed to cover her mouth and clamp down so hard.

I have never seen her so stubborn. Fighting for her dear life not to get an injection.

ARE ALL THIRD CHILD LIDDIS?!

“So how?” I asked Dr Ibrahim, after so long.

“The other option is gas or GA, but we’ll have to go to the hospital,” he says to me quietly.

I almost laughed. Go to the hospital just to get a tooth extracted. This will go down in history, Sarah.

At this point, it’s been two hours at the clinic. Please imagine that. Two hours. I was getting so tired of wrestling Sarah that I almost wanted to give up. But no… Moms never quit. Dads do pfttt, but Moms… never. The Moms community will be so disappointed.

“Come on, we gotta do this,” I said to Sarah.

“NO, I’M SCARED, I’M SCARED.”

“ENOUGH, Sarah. I’ve heard enough. I know you’re scared. You’ve said it a thousand times. The whole clinic knows. You have to push through that fear. If you don’t, I’m walking out of this clinic,” I say seriously as I took my handbag. “One… Two…. Three… Four….”

“I DOWANNNNN.”

“…Five. I’m out. Bye.” I stomped out of the doctor’s clinic.

… to the wall behind it so I can listen to what’s happening in there.

She was crying.

Then the crying stopped and it was silence.

Then I heard a giggle. Dr Ibrahim was working his magic on Sarah and calming her down.

I was called back in after a few minutes.

“Sarah said she will try to do it now, Mommy,” Dr said.

First, she wanted to doa – so we had to do ayat kursi, the three Quls and say Bismillah together, including Dr Ibrahim and his nurses. Then second, she wanted to just “test”. Like just put the needle on the gum for her to “feel” it. From there, the doctor put the injection in so softly that I think she had no idea it was already happening. Then we counted to ten together. The doctor pulled the needle out and I think the entire clinic, even the walls, clapped for Sarah.

“See? Was it that bad?” I asked her.

She shrugged.

If I could do an “I told you so” smack…

There were two teeth that needed extraction, so now we had to do another one.

“Can I do the other side now, Sarah?” Dr Ibrahim asked her.

“Yeah sure,” she said cheerfully.

Unbelievable.

The other side was done. So quickly, she didn’t even flinch, she didn’t even move.

“Did it hurt?” I asked.

“Nope,” she smiled.

WELL, IF YOU HAD LISTEN TO ME TWO HOURS AGO….

Moral of the story: Sometimes parents have to walk out and leave them because if you’re around, they get even more mengada. Without us, they can actually do it better. The two teeth were pulled out and she didn’t feel a thing. Doctor put them in the tooth necklaces and she wore them so proudly. Then he whipped out a box of toys to let her choose not one, but two toys.

WHY ARE YOU REWARDING THIS BIG BABY?!

In the car, she was so amazed with how numb her mouth was. She kept touching her lips, wondering why she couldn’t feel them and she giggled. She touched her tooth necklaces and looked at them with pride and joy. Her new treasures.

“Mom, I was so brave, right?” she asks me.

Was she even there?!!

And me? Exhausted from two hours of screaming at her, and now having to hold her gauze full of blood while she hands me more, and now I have to compliment her?

YOU KNOW WHO’S BRAVE? ME.

And so I muttered the lie, “Yes, yes… sooo brave.”

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Before you go…

Let me know you’ve read this. Comment “Yes so brave, Sarah” on my latest post at @sincerelyvivy.

See you there! :)