The (pre) Pre-K Took My Baby Away

We all woke up early today, Jack already bouncing off the walls in a way I wish I could replicate without the aid of prescription drugs or caffeine. That's one of my favorite things about children- they arise every morning without hangups. I wondered if he knew what exactly was to come. He would be going to pre-school/daycare, introduced to a new world and saying goodbye to the one he'd grown accustom to for the last three years. Me.

I prepared for this. Reenacted the scene in my mind for a week and reminded myself of WHY he's going, counting the good reasons and remembering that this was inevitable. What I hadn't prepared for was the silence.

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Five years ago I got "this too shall pass" in latin inscribed on my hip indelibly with ink. I was going through a hard time and found comfort in those four simple words. I said them in my head, hoping with all my might that I wasn't saying them in vain. I made some questionable decisions as a teen but this one I cherish because it's true. "This too shall pass..."

I thought this when I got down. I thought this when I was sick of being pregnant and when pregnancy got sick of me I thought about this in the throes of labor.

Not only does it help me through the hard times but it reminds me of the good. To stop and cherish them. "This too shall pass..."

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In parenthood the days are long and the years are short. When I opened the door to hand Jack off to his teachers I remembered the day when nurses handed him off to me. And our life began. I nursed him as an infant and spent days staring at him. I soothed his swollen gums and stayed up late with him. I got frustrated and cried and I got overwhelmed with love and cried some more. And when I wasn't looking, when I blinked, he grew up. Our own little world filled with days in the park, sandwiches with crusts cut off, tiny toy cars and coloring books started to shrink as his own world just started to expand. I took stage right as his spotlight brightened.

"We'll be back soon! I love you!"

I turned and walked out as fast as I could and resisted the urge to look back. Got in the car and turned up the CD player as loud as I could handle it to fill the now empty back seat and my head.

"This too shall pass..."

And it has. It does, everyday. Pregnancy, infancy, toddlerhood, pain, childhood, long afternoons with his hand in mine, faces pink under the sun, elementary school...this too shall pass. All of it bittersweet.


And so, it is off to his own adventures. The chrysalis has been broken. He'll fly fine on his own. I just hope I can do the same.