Saying Goodbye

We said goodbye yesterday to people and a place that's become very dear to us. Natalie had her last day of preschool at the center she's attended since she was 12 weeks old and I returned to work. She's been going two mornings a week since I left my job at the beginning of the summer, to keep up her preschool studies and play with all of her friends. Gavin, who also attended the same center since 12 weeks old, has been popping in and out with me all summer as well, hugging his friends and teachers on the way.

I remember the first time I toured the center. It was actually for a story I was writing for the college. They had just moved into a remodeled building, sparkling new with energy and excitement. I immediately knew I'd feel good about sending my own kids there some day.

I also remember the first time I met with Nicole, the infant room teacher. Natalie was just eight weeks old and smack in the middle of colic. I cried every day with her - some because of the horrible stress colic puts a new mother through, but also some because of the thought of leaving her with someone else each day. In preparation of my meeting with Nicole, I'd typed up an entire sheet of Natalie's likes and dislikes, how to calm her when crying, how to swaddle and rock her on her side during a colic fit, what setting she likes on the soothing sound machine. Even then I knew it was a little much, but I was afraid they wouldn't like my screaming baby. That maybe she wouldn't be held and snuggled as much as others. That maybe I would be hurting her by turning her over to strangers for nine hours a day.

During that meeting, Nicole sat calmly, nodding and smiling. She let me cry as I talked about how scared I was to leave Natalie and spoke kindly of how carefully they would tend to her. I toured the infant room again, discovering the staff had already looked her up online at the hospital site and were very excited about meeting her.

If I'd only known back then what I know now. That my children would be in the best hands I can even imagine. They would be hugged, cuddled, sang to and comforted. They would learn to communicate early with baby sign to make it even easier to meet their needs. They would make deep friendships with baby friends, friendships that I never even imagined could exist for kids so young. They would learn, explore, run, dance, learn some French, plant a garden and visit grandmas at a local nursing home. They would love and be loved. Tremendously.

As I said goodbye to the teachers earlier this summer when Gavin left, and again yesterday when Natalie left, I found myself crying again. This time, they were tears of gratitude. How do you possibly thank people who have helped your children become who they are? How do you say thank you for playing such an important role in your family's life?

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.