My upper left molar had come out, but I'd started to grow another tooth behind it.  Now, I went into the kitchen when the one on the right came out as well.  There was a girl there in the bathroom, but I needed to wash off.  There was blood, and I was crying, distraught about the loss.  The small bud of a new tooth was behind it, too.  My mother came home and I told her.  Even though it had been some time before (like several days), I never told her about the first one.  I was hoping it would be a one-time thing.  I think that's part of what had me so distraught, was that I was losing another, and where would it stop?