Separation Anxiety
has turned my usual cheerful, outgoing and social child into a bag of
tears. Normally, he runs or skips his way through the daycare doors,
mentioning the “bleeew” and “reddd” flowers outsides.
This morning, he clung to me as we walked in, laying his head on my
shoulder. He was not in the mood for his usual chatter, the only word he said was a quiet plea for Nani as we neared his classroom;
where I reminded him that Nani is at home, but he will have fun with Ms.
Christine and his buddies today. He nervously took
off his coat and gave me his pacifer to put away as Ms. Christine took
out his breakfast. I sat him down, kissed his forehead and turned to
leave when I heard ‘Ammiiiiii’ behind me. He was
not ready to let me go. Oh boy. I sat with him for a bit,
watching him eat his first few bites. As another parent walked in to
drop off their child, I took this opportunity to make a quick exit.
Hoping he wouldn’t notice my absence with the extra bodies
crowding the small class room, I dashed out. As I heard the door click
behind me I turned to see Ali rushing out of his seat after me wailing
‘Ammiiiiiii’. It wasn’t so much his cries, but the look on his face in
that moment. Our eyes locked and the sheer
look of having his heart broken, that look of betrayal and rejection
was all over his face. Ugh just put dagger through my heart and give it a
twist why don’t you? I could hear the cries as I signed the daily
attendance sheet in the hallway. Fortunately,
within a few short moments it was gone.
What makes this separation anxiety phase so difficult for me is that I remember
going through it! I have a weirdly good memory, but I remember
being about 2-3 years old and going to a babysitter
all day while my mom went back to college for her Early Childhood
degree. As an adult now, I realize my mom did something wonderful for
herself and for our family, but as a toddler I was miserable
all day. I was probably the easiest kid
to babysit, because I wouldn’t move from the same spot on the sofa in
front of the TV, I didn’t speak and barely ate. The only thing I
really remember is being scared of another
girl who came to the babysitter too, she was a little older and would push
me around to play with her. I didn't want to be her friend, I just wanted my mommy and Pushy Girl's behavior clearly didn’t help my situation. This
only lasted a short period I’m assuming, because I remember soon after
going to my aunt’s during the day and really
enjoying it. She was my mom’s younger sister, so it was like having the
next best thing. She never yelled and I could play big sister to my
baby cousin. But still, it was not my mom. Shortly after, my mom
started working at a preschool and I would go with her. She
taught an older age group, but knowing that my mom was in the classroom next
door, it’s when my personality finally came out. I became social and
enjoyed those drives to and from daycare with mom. Just me and her. Even
later on when I was 5, my Dadi and Dada would
take care of me before kindergarten. It was nice and gave me fond
memories with them but, it was not my mom.
All a small child
wants in this stage is his mom, his source of comfort and over whom he can reign freely. His Ammi. I am heartbroken that I
cannot give my child that (except on weeknights and weekends). That he has to spend 10 hours, five days a
week without me literally brings me to tears,
because it as the one thing I also wanted as a young child and here I
am doing the same to my own.
Ali, if you are an
adult reading this one day. Know that those days when you didn’t want
Ammi to leave you, they were just as tough on her too.
Know that when you cried as she shut the classroom
door in your tiny adorable face, she got back into her car and gulped
down tears of her own. Surah Ya Sin. That’s the surah Ammi had to listen
to while driving to work. Because,
my mom, your Nani, had told me that it is considered the Heart of
the Quran, and the only thing to try mending my broken heart this
morning was hearing recitations from the Heart itself.
Also, we must be thankful for all the kindness in our lives.
We are lucky that Nani lives so close by we can visit her whenever
we like, and soon she’ll be back at school with you. Know that Ms.
Christine, like all your teachers will be inshAllah,
is a wonderful caring woman who takes SUCH good care of you when I
can’t be around and had a hand in shaping you into the man you are
today. She was patient as you cried and comforted you when you felt sad. We must always find the
positive in every difficult situation. We must find what is to be learned
from it and how we can grow better from it.You are a strong and resilient
boy, your teacher reassures me you play fine the rest of the day, those cries are soon forgotten. But there are those moments I worry that these memories
will damage you. I fear it will create feelings of rejection and anxiety within you. I pray hard that they don’t make you resentful towards me or towards any future siblings who may take my attention away from you
even more. I'm relying on the same hope my mother
probably had, that one day you will grow up and realize why I had
to do what I did, for the betterment of our family. And that it never ever
meant that I love you any less.
As a Muslim, we are taught that God loves us 70x more than a mother loves her children. I finally get it. The gravity of that notion. We selfishly demand God's attention, we fight with Him when he doesn't grant us what we want. We hold grudges for years and don't talk to Him. All because we are needy like a child and feel resentful that He deprived us of his love somehow, whether it be by denying us the things we desire or giving us difficult life situations to tackle. Becoming a mom grants a view from the other side of the lense. Everything comes full circle.
Loving my child has taught me how to love God the way he deserves to be loved, because it allows me to understand Him. Knowing what it is to love selflessly, we cry when our child cries. Your pain is worse than any of my own. And, the pain of knowing that it is my actions which caused your tears, that is an injury I wish upon no one. But those tears shed are necessary to make successful, confident and sociable individuals who will one day repeat the same cycle. And hopefully, they too will know Him and what it is to love Him.
Motherhood Is Not For Sissies By Beilenson, Evelyn (Google Affiliate Ad)
Motherhood Is Not For Sissies By Beilenson, Evelyn (Google Affiliate Ad)
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