Today was E’s first ever day of day care. I’d packed her diaper bag for it last night and cried through the whole ordeal while E happily and unknowingly played with her toys on the floor.
E’s day care is a small “learning center” with fewer than ten babies. When we arrived this morning, only two other babies were there. The opening teacher took E from my arms (sob) and my sweet girl immediately began to coo and babble away at her new acquaintance.
I sat on the floor with E for 20 minutes while I mentally pleaded with God to whisper the winning lottery numbers into my ear. It didn’t work, so I finally left E in the day care’s capable hands, bawled in my car, and continued to sniffle the 20 minute drive to work.
At about 10:30, just as I was wondering if it was too early to call and check on E, I got a text message from an unknown number. It was a picture of E, swaddled tightly in her pink blankie I left her with, sound asleep. Apparently K, the main infant teacher, likes to text pictures of babies to their mamas during the day. My heart melted at the sight of my baby. I missed her so damn much.
But wait…E hates being swaddled. We haven’t been able to swaddle her since she was a month old, she hates it so much. And yet I couldn’t deny that in that picture, she was very much asleep inside of a swaddle. Even when I forwarded the text to B so he could also see his baby girl, his response was, “Wtf she won’t let us swaddle her!”
At 12:30, I finally gave in and called to check on her. The woman I spoke to said E had just awoken from a two-hour nap and that she’d been having a great morning.
But wait…E never takes two-hour naps unless I’m holding her.
She didn’t fight the swaddle. She didn’t fight the nap. My baby wasn’t in day care, she was in the Twilight Zone.
E was exhausted when we got home today. Like, utterly, terribly exhausted. I sat on the couch with her sleeping in my arms and cried to B, lamenting the fact that I’d spent all of an hour with her since I woke this morning and for half of that time she was asleep. I’m praying it’s an adjustment period and that before long, I’ll at least get a little bit of time with my sweet girl when we first get home.
I’d been dreading this day for 12 weeks and it’s finally over. Tomorrow won’t be easy. Neither will the next day, or the next week–but it will get easier.
And seriously, I can’t get over the fact that she let them swaddle her.