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All summer long, I had been preparing my older daughter — and myself — for kindergarten, that milestone transition that every parent under the sun warns parents of young children about. We read books about going to kindergarten, watched children’s shows on the topic, and went to family meet-ups organized by her new school.
Meanwhile, I spent so little time preparing my younger daughter for her own transition to full-time preschool, because she seemed so ready. She had already attended a half-day program four days a week, so she was fairly adjusted to the classroom environment. In addition, she was taking her sister’s place at her old school and was familiar with her teachers. She and her older sister also attended camp at the school this past summer, so I thought she’d basically feel like a returning student — and I wasn’t wrong.
But, oh, how I was wrong about how I’d feel.
After dropping my younger daughter at preschool, I was shocked by how sad I felt
When the first day of school arrived, I found myself teary — not because of my kindergartener going to school, but because her younger sister, likely my last child, was walking out the door, leaving our home, with pure enthusiasm and sheer excitement. It was now her time to “be a big kid” like her sister, and she was so cool, calm, and collected about it all.
Seeing that twinkle in her eyes and that beaming smile of hers did a real number on my heart that day. I was completely blindsided by my own big feelings — by that large wave of grief that crashed down on me.
Motherhood continues to teach me lessons that I don’t look for or expect, like how grief can arrive in the moments where all your hard work — and all your kids’ progress — reveals itself. I didn’t expect to feel the sting when I asked my little one if she was ready to go to school on that monumental morning, and she yelled in reply, “Yeah, Mama! Let’s go!” I didn’t expect my heart to sink so much — to physically ache for a time gone past far too quickly.
At that moment, I found myself questioning whether I’d soaked up every moment I could with her over the last three years. I wondered if I gave her an equal parenting experience to that of her older sister. I found myself yearning for the good ol’ days of just us two that had, at that very moment, ended so abruptly.
It made me look back on the last few years with my kids
As most parents of two (or more) kids understand, I’m constantly questioning how I’ve divided my time and attention between my children. After my second was born, I continued being a stay-at-home parent — with two under 2 — and found myself completely underwater, treading with postpartum anxiety and depression while breastfeeding a baby and entertaining a toddler.
I remember how every day felt like Groundhog Day, but within the folds of those days, it also felt like Christmas. It was both repetitive and remarkable. I also remember feeling so relieved that I had either had an “easier” baby, or I had just gotten better at the whole mom thing. Quickly, though, guilt ushered in and told me that my second child was not having the same experience as my first — because, well, she wasn’t, and that felt like a shortchange of some kind.
But, on the morning of that first day of school, I revisited and saw the beauty of that time, locked up in a capsule in the form of photos and videos on my phone. While I dried my tears and buried myself in cozy blankets, interrogative questions, and spiraling thoughts, I scrolled through the artifacts of that stressful yet sacred time with my baby and my toddler, and I realized I needed to be kinder to myself — a lesson that I am constantly reinforcing with my girls.
Through the capturing of all that goodness during that ephemeral time, I saw how my youngest had held my attention much longer than I had remembered. I also saw how influential her sister and I had been, together, in her development — how through the trial-and-error of first-child-rearing, she’d received and benefited from a much cooler, much calmer, and more collected mother with the added bonus of an additional educator in her life: a kind, smart, and patient sibling.
In parenting, we reap what we sow, and I am now reaping what I have sown — what I have poured my mind, body, and soul into — for the last three years. I’m beyond proud of my youngest, now blooming like the zinnias in our garden, but I’m also sad — grief-stricken, even. And, that’s OK. I now know that this, too, shall pass, and I’ll adjust to my “new normal.” I also know that I’ll never be ready for that next wave of grief that will inevitably come. I wonder what it will be? I wonder what old sweetness I will bid adieu? I wonder what new sweetness I will welcome?
The post My younger daughter was excited to go to preschool full-time. The transition was not so easy for me. appeared first on Business Insider.
