I woke up at midnight with a tightness in my chest, grasping for breath. In the dark of the night, it felt like the walls were closing in on me. It was then I realized my pillow was wet and tear soaked.
As a mom who has stayed home with her babies, waking them up every day and taking care of their needs, this has to be one of the hardest things to do… sending them off, away from home for 7 hours a day, letting someone else take care of their needs. How can she possibly be ready?
How can she be ready to navigate the halls of the big grade school, swarming with other children? How will she find her way to her classroom without me being there to guide her? How can she know how to put her backpack away, take her snack to her desk and follow the order of the day without me there to help her? How can she possibly carry a big heavy tray full of lunch food across the crowded lunchroom without dumping it across the floor? How can she be ready for spelling tests, reading homework and math problems? How can she possibly be ready?
I know I’ve sent other kids off to school and they’ve thrived… but I worry about her so much. I worry that others won’t get and understand her quirky little self. I worry that she’ll be the one on the playground alone or sitting at the lunch table with no one else coming to sit by her. I worry that she just won’t get the school work that she’s given, even though I know she is completely capable. I worry about the kids out there who aren’t so kind… and I worry about her tender heart. She is a beautiful, wonderful, spirited, funny, sweet girl… but what if no one else sees that?
I’m leaving her in the hands of a trusted, loving, incredible teacher and I still worry. What if she can’t do it without me there… which is silly, I know, but how can she possibly be ready?
This is why we do this mothering thing, right? To prepare them for the day when they are pushed a little further and begin to really fly on their own.
But I still grasp at the thought… how can she possibly be ready? I know my heart is not.