Losing My Baby

A little while back, my plan for the morning was to take Annie for a walk.  I had been busy with the odds and ends of moving and setting up home, and although she had asked for walks before, I had always said no.  So this morning, I had made no other plans.  I dressed for walking in the tropics, and I told Annie our big plans.

Her friend Benny had come over with his nanny.  They try to get out in the morning, and had stopped by to say hi.  I said hi to Benny and to his nanny.  And then I told Annie the good news.

Hey, Annie!   We’re going for a walk today!  Do you want to get ready to go?

Annie:  No, Mommy.  I want to play with Benny.

Me:  I know, its superfun to play with Benny.  But you’ve been wanting to go for a walk, too.  Maybe you can play with Benny later.

Annie:  You should go for the walk, Mommy.  It’ll be fun for you.  But I’m going to stay here and play with Benny instead.

And that’s the moment I realized it.  My final baby is growing up, her world is getting bigger, and she has begun that slow and inevitable slip away from me.

I dropped her off at school today.  Her first day was on Wednesday, but her school has this lovely policy of inviting the parents to stay for the child’s first two days of preschool.  There’s no need to make this transition any harsher than it needs to be, right? they said.  Yesterday, and the day before yesterday, we went to school together.  I watched her teacher interact with her classmates; I saw the library and the music room; I observed what excited Annie most, and what intimidated her.

And then this morning, I left her.  She was unfazed, happy with the new toy she had found.  She promised not to tell me anything about what she does at school – she said it would all be a secret.  No tears from Annie.  But I cried the whole way home.