We found a wonderful daycare. I started searching before I even told anyone I was pregnant because around here, the waiting lists for infant daycare are months long. Typically you find one, put your name on a list, and then call and be as annoying as possible until you secure a spot. This is not me. And so, when I found a daycare I liked and they also promised me they would have a spot and I didn’t have to call back until H was here, I was overjoyed. The Friday before the first day, I went up to the daycare and spent way too long in H’s room asking questions and mostly just standing there. This was where, in a few short days, I was going to drop off my tiny, 12 week old baby. Thankfully, I am not the first new working mom to walk through those doors and the ladies who love on H every day are amazing. They calmed my nerves and loved me through it all.
I cried dropping H off at daycare the first day. Like ugly cried. Right in the middle of the room. And it did not faze a single soul in the room. It was as if they understood. After Monday, my gracious husband volunteered to drop H off. This made the most sense with our jobs and I am not sure he wanted to see me cry every morning. 6 or so months later, it is still tough on the days I have to cover drop off.
After saying good-bye and composing myself, I headed back to my job. It was a lovely first day getting back into the swing of things and chatting with co-workers I hadn’t seen in a while. The ladies at daycare sent me updates and pictures throughout the day and at 5:00, I hurried home to snuggle my sweet boy. I was pretty proud of myself for not crying at work and for successfully navigating a full day of work, pumping, and being away from H.
