Letting Go

My baby boy started preschool this morning. It is a milestone 10 years in the making. I have no baby in my belly, on my hip or my breast. I will have six hours, two days a week, completely to myself, to do whatever I choose.

As we were dropping him off today, with his little Batman backpack and Superman lunchbox, he was independent and happy. We had visited the classroom last week and met his teachers. He saw where the bathroom was in his classroom . . . and even tried it out (announcing loudly as he was peeing "The bathroom works mommy!")

There were a few kids crying and clinging to their parents this morning. Grant looked at me with this perplexed expression, as if to say "Why on earth are they crying? This is AWESOME!" He walked in, we pinned on his nametag, found his cubby and placed his backpack and lunchbox inside it. He went potty, then found some cool cars to play with. I knelt down next to him and asked if it was okay for Steve and I to go. He said "Yep!" I kissed him, told him I loved him, and to have a great day. Then I turned and walked away.

Letting go is an important part of parenthood. We do our best to raise independent, well-adjusted children. To teach them kindness, compassion and respect. Now that the time is here to begin the letting-go process for the last time, it is bittersweet. There is peace in knowing that he is secure enough in our love for him to know that we'll be back for him, and it's okay to be away from mom. There is joy in knowing that he is well-adjusted and happy.

When we got outside, Steve looked at me, smiled, and said "We did it honey! This is a big milestone...how does it feel?" At that moment, the tears started rolling, and all I could say was "Lonely."