I must start by saying, it is a WONDERFUL daycare! Run by a mother-daughter team who has an amazing gift with children, I am certain that I have lucked upon the best kept secret in Indianapolis. There are six children, one of which is Safi’s cousin Salimah. Despite the age range of nearly 2 and 3 years-old, Safiyah comes home with an art project daily. They learn, sing and play throughout the day. I have no doubt that she is receiving extraordinary care. But that doesn’t make it easy.
It’s probably a terrible analogy, but for me, the thought of daycare was like putting your aging, and possibly ill parent in a nursing home. You know they’re getting great care, but you still hate to do it. Despite the level of care, I’ve always reasoned that I’m the best suited to care for my child, right?
It was a difficult transition – again, largely for me. Of course she cried. That was to be expected, right? She cried when I dropped her off and again when I’d pick her up. Her “teachers” assured me that she’d had a great day; played with the other children; was fine shortly after I left, but it still ached me to the core that my child was experiencing the insecurity of transition.
I eagerly comforted her each evening when I picked her up. I excitedly asked about her day. For the first week, or so, she ignored me. She’d hold on tight as I gathered her and her things, yet she refused to make eye contact. She was punishing me. And I felt every tinge of her punishment.
I felt terrible! I questioned whether I was doing the right thing. Logically, I reasoned that MILLIONS of children go to daycare! It is NOT a bad thing. But I couldn’t help but wonder if it was the right thing for my child. Had I waited too long to introduce daycare? Should I have tried a more gradual transition? Did she feel like she was being abandoned? (Note to reader – I have a LOT of unexplained abandonment issues, so I’m a bit over-sensitive to the idea.) As is my constant battle of motherhood, I questioned my decision.
Safiyah’s drop-off and pick-up tears continued for about two weeks. And just when I thought it was never going to end, I saw a break through. As we drove up one Tuesday morning, I braced myself for the tears and the mommy-pleas that I had come to expect. Yet as we walked in the door, Safiyah started to unzip her jacket. No tears. Shocked, I watched in awe as another toddler greeted Safi with a big hug as she shouted, “Daa-feeee-yaaah”! I watched my child fall into her friend’s embrace with a wide smile on her face of feeling loved.
That moment spoke volumes to me.
Mommy, I’m ok.
I’m with friends.
I know you’re coming back for me.
Until you do - I’ll be fine.
I quietly slipped out the door not wanting to ruin our first tear-free good-bye. As I walked back to my car, I felt that mixed pang of intense joy and sudden loss.
I am raising an independent toddler and losing my baby all at the same time. But at the end of the day, her triumph is mine as well.I heard a child psychologist say that it is unrealistic to expect any toddler to welcome transition. It is our job as parents to help them navigate the transition and provide the security they need to get through it. Just like all our previous battles before this, Safiyah eventually transitioned. And I’m happy to say that she is becoming a more well-rounded child because of it.
