Today was Finley’s first day at KinderCare and even though there are many, many good reasons for her to go, it didn’t make dropping her off any easier for Heather. It’s called “separation anxiety.” It’s hard to believe, but for pretty much every day of her four month life, one of us has been with her. And now, just as she is smiling at us and really recognizing us, we send her off. Which didn’t make things any easier for Heather. But, we know that every day will be a little easier and require fewer tissues than the day before.
I, to Heather’s dismay, got the good end of the deal. I get to pick her up. Yep. While Heather leaves her behind in a trail of tears, I’m the happy recipient of a glowing smile when she sees daddy come to get her (Don’t worry, Heather won’t let that last too long).
And as much as I prepped myself to not worry too much about her being gone, there was one thing I wasn’t ready for. The shattering silence. I’m lucky enough to work three days a week from home and while I was on paternity leave, I got used to working on the computer or doing housework, while listening for the telltale signs of discomfort or hunger. Even though she’s not here, I find myself pausing what I’m doing and listening for that little girl.
It’s not that she’s a noisy or loud baby, but it’s amazing how easily you get used to the sound of a batted rattle or the rustle of a ribbon in her little hands. There are toys that attach to bouncy seats and there’s the clock-like sounds of her swing. And as of late, you can’t go too long without hearing a coo or a shriek of delight. Except for today.
I knew I was going to miss her, but it wasn’t until I started listening for sounds that wouldn’t come that I realized how much. It’s very weird, because for nearly twenty years of my life, I’ve pretty much worried about myself. I don’t need to worry about Heather because she’s more together than I am. But I never imagined I’d worry about someone as much as I do that sweet little girl.
As I said before, we know that there are many good reasons for her to go to daycare. But I think the hardest part is that I’m afraid I’m going to miss watching her grow. We’ve seen her first smile and her first laugh. We’re watching as she learns to roll over and sit up. I’m afraid she’ll start crawling and even talking when I’m not around. But that’s the way it goes, I guess.
Somewhere along the line, she’s going to do things that one of us will see and the other will miss. The silly thing is that these are things that are so simple and easy to the average person. Of course once we see her do it, we’ll think it’s a miracle. Okay, so maybe it’s not THAT silly, but I also know that these little miracles will become work. Once she learns how to crawl, it will be harder to catch her. Once she learns to speak, she’ll eventually learn how to tell us “no.” And once she learns how to walk, we’ll be running like crazy. But as much as those things may seem difficult and tedious when they happen, they are things I won’t want to miss for the world.
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