The Daycare Conundrum

There were days this winter that I felt time couldn’t go any slower. I had a colicky baby for the first three months, a baby that seemed to sleep, nurse and cry in constant rotation. It was a terrible reality. Every time my baby was awake, he was either eating or crying, and nothing I did seemed to comfort him. Time creeped. To make the days go by quicker, we would walk when it was mild enough…sometimes three times a day. I’d cross my fingers that BabyG would be in good enough shape to go to a library program, or a playgroup, something that would equal success for another day on mat leave. By month four something clicked, my son was happier, more rested, I was more relaxed. It was like we had been roommates in our freshman year at college, spending the first few months eyeing each other, trying to figure out how the other one worked, holding our ground. Month four meant more cuddles, less crying, more playing. It was bliss.

All of a sudden, I find myself finishing my mat leave, a month early as baby is only (almost) 11 months, but a daycare space opened up in August at a centre we really liked and we jumped on it. The good news is, I made a great career decision, I’m now going to be working on my own as an independent communications consultant, to allow me more flexibility to balance my family and work life. I was never great at balancing the personal/work life pre-baby, so something had to give.

Next week is baby’s first full week at daycare, this week he has had two visits, each two hours. The pain that is associated with the decision to place him in daycare is sort of indescribable. I’m a dramatic person to begin with, so this transition has left me an absolute mess. I have to give myself props though, I did what I was told and completed the “quick drop off” leaving him in the arms of a complete stranger while he wailed, tears streaming down his face, crying out for “mom-ma” (how he pronounces it). I look back to high school and university, when I thought some dude had completely broken my heart, these arseholes had nothing on daycare. Daycare shatters your heart into pieces.

I didn’t know what I would be like as a mother, how I would take to it. I’m pretty self-centred, and I like having my own space. Over the past year, I have learned so much about myself. Sure, I now know I am much stronger than I thought, but my weaknesses have come rushing forward for examination as well. This year has not only been the year that I fell in love with my son, it has also been the year I sort of learned how much I hated myself. The year I really worked on who I was in order to be a better role model for him. I have a ways to go, but our time together 24/7 the last 11 months has given me such perspective, and shamed me for decisions I have made in the past.

Now, with two full days left together before we end our year together, I find myself feeling really depressed. I know that I’ll get to pick him up each day, spend every weekend with him, and plan wonderful family vacations, but it won’t be the same. It’s like graduation or something, without the party.

The selfish me will miss my buddy. The little friend who makes me laugh at the little things he does. I’ll miss the moments we have before he goes down for his nap, where I whisper our plans for the afternoon in his ear, and plead with him to rest for a bit so we can have tons of fun when he wakes up. I’ll miss our morning routine…dropping daddy off at work and singing songs on the radio on the way home. Having a cup of coffee while watching him explore the living room before preparing his cereal and yogurt. I’ll miss our outings that I would plan each day around his naps, something new for baby to see and experience. Sure, even if it was Winners where mommy tried on bathing suit after bathing suit.

When I dropped him off for his daycare visit this morning I came back to an empty house. Being dramatic me, I went up to baby’s room and sat in the rocking chair and cried. I looked in his crib and saw his blankie, the one I slept with for two nights before giving it to him so it would smell like mommy when I was trying to get him used to his crib. I saw Sal, his stuffed dog, that he loves to cuddle with in the morning. I leaned over and turned on his iPod station, where I had placed all of his favourite songs, the ones we listened to when he had colic and I had to dance around the room for hours with him. I missed him. Mostly, I felt the decision I had made. I felt it hard. The decision to put him in care and not stay home with him full-time.

Like any mother, I can’t be sure I am making the right choice, although it feels right to me. I promised to always be honest on this blog, so I’ll say that there have been moments over the last couple of months where I have been yearning for my old life. To be able to have time for me again, to do actual work, to feel proud of something I have accomplished outside of motherhood. When I’m being rational, I know I am making the best decision for our family, if my husband got one more call at work with me complaining about how suffocated I felt I think he would have driven off the 102. And let’s be serious, mat leave pay isn’t condusive to my shopping lifestyle.

I’m a big believer in quality time, and that’s what my focus will be with baby. No matter how tired I am at the end of a work day, he’ll be my priority. I’m his mama, and I always want to be the one he turns to for guidance. I’m going to miss our full days together, the routine we’ve established. I know he will too. I hope he makes friends at daycare, that he learns to love having his own time, his independence, his own place that he can soon tell mom and dad all about. I hope this helps to prepare him better for school, and allows him to be more comfortable when left alone with others (maybe The Husband and I can finally go on a date!). Mostly, I hope he doesn’t forget how much he means to his mama. I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m abandoning him. I hope that he knows how excited I will be to pick him up every day, and knows that mom doesn’t like walking away from him each morning.

I’m so glad we had this time together. Each and every day, even the bad ones. We’re truly lucky in Canada to be allowed to spend this time with our babies, to help them develop, to get them adjusted. I haven’t taken that time for granted. It’s a new chapter now, baby. I love you more than anything times a million.

For now, your dramatic mama will listen to some of this:

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