It has been 12 months and I have barely ever left my baby's side.
I totally and utterly devoted myself to minding and caring for our little baba for the first year of his life, which I do not regret for one second, in fact, I feel incredibly blessed to have that opportunity.
However, I promised myself that when he turned one, I would enrol him in our local crèche for a couple of mornings a week. For both our benefits. For him, so that he would not be SO reliant on me for everything and for me to start getting a bit of free time to put myself first again, even just for those few hours.
Nothing, however, prepared me for the absolute heartbreak of handing him over. Funnily enough, the first morning wasn’t so bad but the second morning was tough.
I think he knew what was coming. He clung to me for dear life and his little smile turned very promptly into a serious frown, his face turned red and he did that hardcore cry where you don’t hear anything at all for the first few seconds and then it comes 'waaaaaaaaaahhhhhh' and my heart just sank. I started to tell the lovely lady that he usually sleeps in his long sleeve vest and his grobag and I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I started bawling!
I didn’t want Bobby to see me sad, as well as him, so I just walked out of the room. I rang straight away once I got outside and apologised for being so silly but she understood and said that she sees it all the time, but I don’t know, I’d love to know if anyone else was like me?
I just felt like all of a sudden I was letting him down, I felt guilty, I felt like because I was looking forward to having a few hours to myself that I was being incredibly selfish. Then I would need to remind myself that this is good for him too, that I am giving him wings and it is not good for him to be so “clingy” (even though I hate that word) but reliant on me. The way it was, he would barely go to his Dad, it was just all “Mumma” and I know although that feeling of him wanting me is amazing, I know it is no good for him in the long run.
The first morning, I did not know what to do with myself, I would come home and clean the house and Bobby’s room from top to bottom, rearranging his wardrobe and organising all his toys just waiting for the time to come where I could come and collect him. They told me that day when I collected him that each time the door to his Wobbler room would open he would run towards it crying saying MUMMA! They probably should not have told me that but my God did it stick in my head, every other day for the next week, that here I am now going for a coffee or to the gym and he’s running to the door crying for me. This was definitely the hardest thing as a Mum so far. I could actually feel my heart breaking, you know that feeling when a boy dumps you as a teenager and you feel physically sick, well I felt like that, only worse.
Don’t get me wrong, it is a fantastic crèche from what I can see but its just a big step for Bobby as he is just used to him and I hanging out and doing our own thing, on our own schedule, one on one, to this. 15 kids, half of which are either crying or screaming, all the noise, the madness but now I see all the toys or the little friends, his world opening up, getting bigger and bigger and that has to be good for him.
Its Bobby’s 4th week at crèche now and this morning, for the first morning he didn’t cry, he did the big frown but simultaneously he reached up his arms to the lovely lady. Progress!
Let me know your thoughts!