Our Iblog Friday winner is comforting tale for anyone handing over their child for the very first time.
Sometimes, the hardest things you can imagine actually turn out to be the easiest – as was the (unexpected) case when my baby started childcare this week.
After winning the childcare place lottery in October, I spent two and a half long months dreading the inevitable moment of separation, and second-guessing my hard fought decision.
On the days I was scrambling to keep the contents of the house off the floor while simultaneously pureeing pork and mash and paying the car rego at the Post Office, I could see the wisdom of my decision shining through the cloudy oven door.
On the days when I was writing articles to deadline and submitting job applications amid chaos, I would flop open my mind and mentally skip down the childcare driveway with bottles of expressed milk and bouquets of roses in hand.
On the days when I watched my daughter playing with other babies at Parents Group catch ups and annual family gatherings, pushing toys back and forward and freaking out when they touched her hair, I would relax into my decision and start prattling about the many virtues and benefits of social interaction from a young age.
On the days when my daughter would light up the room, or unexpectedly manage to stand on her onesie-clad foot, or suddenly find a decisive ‘bird’ or ‘ball’ from within the constant stream of babble, I would emotionally bail on the whole childcare caper.