Buoyed by J's good response to nursery the previous time when he had stayed an hour on his own, I had driven us to nursery on Tuesday in high spirits for his 3rd settling-in session. We entered the nursery and walked through the various rooms without any incident....until we entered his room and he saw his carer.
I felt his grip on me go tighter and his face started to crumple. Then, the dam burst and the waterworks began. It was awful. Awful to see your own baby cry like that. And hold on to you frantically...
A huge wave of guilt washed over me. He was crying because he understood that I would be leaving him behind. In a child's world, that must be really scary and terrible. I am, after all, his closest friend, the one he sees day in, day out and cares for him. How do you explain to a child why he has to be in a nursery for some days, that he will have fun, and that he will be ok?
You can't, because he is too young to reason, to young to understand. And so, really, he will just slowly learn on his own that it is okay. He will gradually realise that nursery is a fun place, that he has many other little friends to play with and nursery has many fun activities which he will not get to do at home.
And with that thought in mind, I reluctantly disentangle him from my arms and handed him over to his carer. I felt really lousy as his cries became louder, as they walked away from me. It was only 2 hours, but it was the longest 2 hours of my life.
Today is his first official, full afternoon session. 5 full hours. I must admit that I was feeling apprehensive all the way from the house to the nursery. I felt like I was doing something wrong to my baby, sending him deliberately to a place where he feels sad. Daddy Low just snorts at me with his "emotional rubbish" expression and tells me to snap out of this softie nonsense. And as much as I think he is cold and heartless on this point, I recognised the truth in his response - that I am just as guilty by responding in the other extreme.
So, we entered the building and J seems to be on full alert. I could almost feel him stiffen when we entered the room and when he saw the carer with her outstretched hands, he went off like a siren. I collapsed inside and asked her weakly, " How do I do this?" The good woman's reply? "Just pass him over." I did and J tried to hold on tightly, but the break was done and I exited with his cries following me down the corridor, out into the warm sunshine.
How easy those 4 words sounded "Just pass him over". How do they account for the heaviness in my heart at the parting, the frantic clawing on my baby's part, the stream of tears that rolled from his red, puffy eyes? But how strange it is as well, that it is really as easy as that? Literally, just pass the baby over. Turn around and walk out, back to your car and out the driveway.
I told myself I must be making it even harder for myself by indulging in the emotional bits. And if a mother cannot make herself stronger for her child, then she is not much good as a mother. She has to, after all, be the pillar of strength, the tree whose sturdy branches give ample shade to her little one. So, I walked out, with my back straightened and my breath even. And as I drove away, I told myself that my boy shall not quiver again in distress and not be able to draw strength from me when he looks at me at our next parting. He shall find in me a promise that everything will be fine and that I shall return for him. For surely, that must be his fear, that I will not return. My dearest Julien, be strong. And know that I will never forsake you. I promise :)
Nevertheless, it did still prove to be a nerve-wrecking afternoon. Daddy Low was supposed to pick him up, and while waiting for them, I was trying to cook, but really, my heart was pacing up and down the room. I tried to avoid checking the clock or look out the window, and was really only able to breathe normally again when they came home and J was in my arms again. Oh boy, we are going to need practice with this going-to-nursery thing. Both J and I!
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