The trigger

Lily continues to struggle with the morning drop off.  I know she likes it at school and keeps up with the work, but saying goodbye is proving too difficult for her.  And for me too.  I can stay in a funk for hours after the separation because I wonder and I worry.  Any suggestions or recommendations leave me more confused than just minutes earlier.  I wish I knew what would be best for her.  Should I take her in alone, without Didier and Virginie?  Should I forgo the trip altogether and let Didier drop her off?  Is she crying for me or is she truly scared and overwhelmed?
This hits me at my stuff.  Psychiatry speak for "this feels really familiar and I am being triggered by the entire experience, reflecting back to myself."  I feel shame and fear around Lily's crying.  I never felt safe as a child to cry or show my feelings, especially sadness or fear.  There was something about not feeling strong enough, tough enough to "take it like a man," which of course I was not and, as should be noted, am still not.  I was silent a lot, difficult to imagine now, but I would bite the inside of my cheek and try not to let tears or a shaky voice reveal my fright.  I know the loneliness, the feeling of alienation that makes crying involuntary.  It just wants to burst out.  When I see Lily's little quivering face, I already know what's coming.  I feel it too. 

Because I am an adult, I know that there is nothing to be afraid of.  That her teacher is a wonderful, loving, caring person and would never allow her to be in harm's way.  That the other kids too, are a little nervous and want to make friends and have fun.  That I will always come and get her and give her all the love she felt she missed in those six hours.  That she is OK, just as she is.

One of the hardest things, for me, in being a mother, is watching the girls, especially Lily right now, experience those painful but great learning experiences, that not only will give her character, but eventually strength.  I envision my first forays into this arena, walking into a school, into a class, in front of children I do not know, and offering myself.  Just me.  And hoping that I am enough.  When Lily turns around, I want her to see me, even if only in spirit, holding her up and lending her the strength until she has her own.  On her first day, I tapped her heart and said, "You feel this right here?  This is your heart.  And here is mine.  If you feel sad, tap it and know that Mommy is right there with you.  I will tap mine too and we will always love each other."  She gave me a sly smile and a hug and went off to the classroom.  If I have to do that every day, I will.  But it is breaking me down a little bit each time.

(c) Copyright 2010.  City Mom in the Jungle.