The Dreaded D Word

This morning I did it.

I dropped my kid off at the dreaded "D" word. Daycare.

Speaking of "D" words, I was in denial. I was in denial that what I was really doing was really "daycare".

I said to myself, "This is just Mother's Day Out at church. It's no big deal. Just a few hours so I can get a few things done and have a break."

I was wrong. It was daycare.

"Parents' Day Out" just started back up at my church two weeks ago for the Fall session. I was supposed to drop him off two weeks ago. On that Tuesday though, he had a little sniffle and a clear, runny nose. So I kept him home. The next Thursday, he still had the sniffle so I said, "I'll keep him home till NEXT Tuesday. By then, he'll be just fine and he can start then."

Then, the next week came. I was having a lot of anxiety about having this procedure done on my back the following day. The Husband didn't have to do anything that day so he offered to watch him instead. Then, Thursday came again and I was having such a hard time recovering that I couldn't lift him at all. So, The Husband watched him again.

Well, here we are again. It's Tuesday, two weeks after "Parents' Day Out started and I finally dropped him off. The whole time I kept thinking, "This is just like Sunday School. It's going to be fine." I imagined a Utopia setting kind of like this (except my baby is smaller and he doesn't wear shoes) where my baby would get one on one attention and learn all kinds of things among all of the other babies:

Then I got there.... and there were quite a few babies and less workers than are present during Sunday School. It hit me: My baby is going to "daycare".

For me, "daycare" is this scary word that fills me with terror. It's a place where your kids go and pass germs around. Your kid may have to sit in a poopy diaper longer than normal because the line at the diaper station is long. They may not get to be scooped up right away if they're upset because there are only so many arms to pick up little, crying babies. They might cry because they're hungry and it won't be time to let them eat. They might just cry all day long and nobody will care because it isn't their kid.

This morning I felt like it was more like this:

I even felt like I should stay and help out. I kept asking if they needed help and if they were going to be okay.

But,  I'm proud of myself because I got over it and left. I trusted them and trusted that they had things under control. I'm sure it only looked scary because I was dropping him off for the first time and was a "wee bit" anxious.

I know that this is just the first in a long line of things my baby will do to become independent. Going to this program twice a week will give him other ideas of how to play with toys and how to interact with kiddos his age. He'll also hopefully learn that other people can meet his needs in different ways than Mommy and that is okay. Hopefully, it will also give me some confidence that his world will not end if he's not attended to with every need as soon as it happens. People call that patience I think.

So, I did it... and he crawled right in and started playing with a toy I had not seen before and never looked back. I'm so glad he's able to take these first steps in an environment he's already comfortable with, at our home church.

Now, excuse me while I try to distract myself and resist the urge to just go get him right away and destroy his opportunity for learning patience.