Happy now?
Both for my sanity and Strawbaby’s social development, it became evident that I needed to begin researching preschools. We settled on an amazing outdoor nature school where the kids get to explore, use their imaginations and get good and dirty. Seriously perfect for Strawbaby who is an inquisitive, puddle-jumping, make-believe puppy dog about a third of her waking hours. No joke, I’m partially convinced that our dog Sriracha thinks she’s part of her pack.
We had visited the school grounds the week before so Strawbaby was excited to return. That is, until our car hit the dirt road and then she became unusually quiet. As we made our way to the field where the other children and parents were gathering, Strawbaby clung to my leg. I anticipated that she was going to be a little wary of being left at preschool but couldn’t predict to what degree. After all, she had come with us, three strangers, without protest, just three months prior.
However, since then, she and I had been inseparable not spending more than a few hours apart since she had been buckled into our rental car. That first day of preschool though, when it was time for me to leave her, she began to scream and cry.
“Mommy’s and Daddy’s always come back!” One of her teachers told her.
But that hadn’t been true for Strawbaby and immediately I questioned if it was too early to be starting preschool. Another teacher assured me as she took Strawbaby’s hand and walked her away toward the forest.
As I turned our car back onto the main street I called Miguel.
“She’s going to be fine, right? She needs to learn to socialize with other children her age. I need time for myself again. But I just left her in the woods with relative strangers and why do I feel like I’m going to cry-” I barely got the sentence out before a choking sob overtook me. “What is wrong with me?”
Miguel just laughed and told me what I already knew. That Strawbaby would be fine and yes, this was what everyone needed. I then hung up and called my mother who again assured me that I was fine and doing the right thing.
While I had been mildly prepared for Strawbaby to get upset at drop-off, my own emotional reckoning had been a surprise. I hadn’t cried when Jackson started preschool, then again, he had been in daycare since he was a year old. Adelaide had gone to daycare for a few months until her first seizure but had never been able to attend preschool - shockingly, though, this wasn’t about that.
These emotions weren’t tied to Adelaide, they were entirely for Strawbaby. I was actually proud of myself for allowing this day, this first, to be something between Strawbaby & me and not Strawbaby, me & Adelaide - my heart’s version of an emotionally wicked love triangle. The same cannot be said for Strawbaby’s third birthday the following week which bulldozed me with parallel memories from Adelaide’s third birthday - but that’s a story for another blog.
No, these first-day drop of tears were 100% normal, typical, parent-child separation emotions. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Mommy! You came back!” Strawbaby yelled as she ran into my arms at pick-up three hours later.
“Yes, baby, I will always come back for you.”
The rest of that first week Strawbaby cried at drop-off and I in the car immediately following. By week two, Strawbaby was a pro and was waving goodbye to me as she plodded away all bundled-up in her winter gear, looking like a bright pink Stay-Puft Marshmallow man. I, however, was still wiping away tears until this week. Pulling out onto the main road after drop-off with the sun shining and the weather warming I actually found myself smiling.
Is this really our life? This broken, pieced together but well-adjusted life?
Do I get to be happy now?
Such a loaded question, because the grief from losing Adelaide is always there, but I can miss her and still be happy, right? I mean, in this snapshot of our life, this day, this microcosm, everything is pretty great.
Naturally, like any good and traumatized person, I immediately start wondering when the next horrible, awful, no good thing is going to happen. Because we don’t seem to get to go for long without another lead foot falling. I’ve lived through too much to believe that there is any sort of equilibrium to our lives. There is no cosmic scale that balances the good and the bad. Just because we’ve endured difficult times, that doesn’t mean that we are ‘due’ for happy times. That would only imply that if I acknowledge and enjoy these happy times with Strawbaby, then we are due for bad times next.
So, no, I don’t believe we are ‘due’ for anything: good, bad or otherwise. I have to believe there is a randomness to life’s events and whatever happens will happen. Which means, there is no point in allowing tomorrow’s mystery crisis to prevent me from enjoying today. It does feel odd to acknowledge that this week I am actually happy. Life certainly isn’t perfect, it never will be, but what I can control is pretty great. Just as I allowed myself to experience my grief, I am trying to allow myself to celebrate life’s joys.
Starting with Strawbaby running into my arms at preschool pick-up.
