What if?

So it’s normal to cry when you drop your kid off at preschool for the first time right? Well, is it normal to cry in your car after visiting the preschool for the first time, even though your child is coming home with you? (Randy was also with us…) It’s not that anything went wrong. The school was nice, the teachers were nice (and have been there for years), the director was nice, the kids were nice (and seemed happy and amazingly calm) but my fear of the unknown is so present.

What if?

she happens to find a way to sneak outside and into the street?

she feels overwhelmed by the number of people around her and is just wishing that she could see Randy or I?

she feels sad if another child is mean to her?

she needs a break from the stimulation and she has to wait hours for me to return?

she has no clue how to nap in a room filled with other children and doesn’t nap and then feels exhausted the rest of the day?

she just wants some one on one time to read a book but has to go along with the schedule of the day?

she no longer feels truly seen by the person who is caring for her and just feels invisible (because it won’t be 1:1 anymore)?

she’s not ready to become part of the “socialized and orderly world”?

her wild spirt annoys her teacher and her teacher somehow communicates this annoyance to Aida, making her feel ashamed?

she loses her spontaneity because she suddenly has so many rules?

she learns to hit, bite,  and claim things “that’s mine!” or other things that humans do when they don’t feel reassured that there’s enough of everything for everyone?

she’s ok and happy when we leave but starts to feel nervous and sad within a short time?

she’s sad and looks nervous but the teachers don’t tell me that because they believe she will adjust eventually?

 

So many worries in this mama’s mind/heart/stomach.

I’m also aware that she may feel: elated, excited, stimulated, cared for, befriended, capable, confident, etc. and it’s likely that she will. However, the reality that my ability to truly create (and let’s be honest….CONTROL) Aida’s environment is slowly but surely lessening. We never thought we would consider preschool until age 3. I don’t know why, we just thought we’d want her in the home until that time. Well, that was before we got to know this little being who is confident and wild and seeks stimulation and never looks back to see if we are waiting for her and pushes every boundary and seems perfectly fine with us leaving for work and incredibly joyful when we return. We think she’s ready. In fact, we are starting to feel more and more that she may be feeling a little under stimulated at home (despite my efforts to build block towers and watercolor and fingerprint and side walk chalk, and read and read and read and dance and sing and help in the kitchen…etc.) and so our decision to pursue preschool 2 days a week is so that she can have more peer interactions and a change of scenery and other teachers in her life. With that change of scenery and introduction to peers comes the opportunity for all of the “what if’s” to happen. I guess this is the way with everything in life, if we want to see if there’s more out there for us (and more potential to be exercised within us) there is some real risk that the “more” will require some adjustment/discomfort/growing pains. In my experience the hard stuff has worked to increase my confidence and so it likely will be similar with my little one.

If I ask myself what needs to happen for me to feel at peace with the transition, it is that Aida will be eager to go to preschool and will jump right in with her peers (after a couple of days or so) and will enjoy her experience. She’ll be happy to see us (but not relieved) and she’ll still be the rambunctious, boundary testing, hug everything, and everyone, and every food, girl we know.  What if the first couple of days don’t go this well? Does that mean it’s not the right place/time/etc. or does that mean that Aida is just experiencing some growth and that it is actually good for her. How are we supposed to know this stuff? I’m sure we’ll do what we always do…tune in, try to tease apart our own “stuff” from her “stuff” and see where the chips fall. I’m becoming more aware just how protective I am, but that’s my job and one that is biologically rooted. The mama bear part of me is so fierce and even has trouble submitting to my own good reasoning at times. Especially during transitions. I can almost feel my stomach hurting from the tug on the metaphorical umbilical cord that is ever elongating as our sweet baby runs off into the world to experience her own journey. It is exactly what we want for her. And it is exactly what hurts.

 

Thank you for letting me just get that all out. If you’ve endured this struggle before I’d love to hear your process/tips etc.

 

It takes a village,

Christina

A photo from Mother’s day that warms this mother’s heart.