This morning marked a significant milestone for me as I navigated the drop-off line at my sons’ preschool for the very first time. As I drove away, I caught a glimpse of my 3-year-old, his little backpack securely on his back, reaching for his teacher’s hand while waving goodbye. It was a heartfelt farewell, one that lingered longer than I anticipated. The proud smile on his face was radiant, and in that moment, I felt a wave of emotion wash over me.
Suddenly, I found myself in tears—the kind that takes your breath away, leaving you gasping for composure. My eyes streamed with tears, forming a puddle on my lap as I headed to my 10:00 therapy appointment, looking like I had just emerged from a downpour.
Crying after dropping my children off at school is not something I typically do. I’ve never considered myself the sentimental type. While I’m a deeply emotional person, my experience of raising three boys in quick succession has often left little room for that side of me to flourish. My eldest son was just shy of three when the youngest was born, and I’ve been in survival mode ever since.
When my firstborn learned to crawl, I was battling severe hyperemesis during my second pregnancy. I was too relieved to see him stop crying for a toy that was just out of reach to appreciate the moment. After his first day of preschool, I didn’t return to a peaceful home; instead, I took my 6-month-old back for a feeding before heading to the grocery store, where shopping with one child felt like a breeze compared to the chaos of two.
As for my middle child, his first steps coincided with my hospital stay for pregnancy complications. By the time he was really walking, I was more relieved than sentimental—he could finally keep up with his brother, significantly reducing the whining in our house.
My youngest’s first utterance of “Mama” came amidst the fog of postpartum depression, during a time when joy felt out of reach. I was engulfed in chaos, merely trying to keep my head above water and missing many of those precious moments that pass so quickly.
However, the past year has brought some stability. As my youngest approaches 2½, I no longer feel submerged. I’ve learned to breathe deeply, allowing life’s moments to fill my lungs and recognize their fleeting nature. I’ve been dropping off my children at preschool for four years without shedding a tear, always the composed “I’ll see you later” mom, rushing off to tackle my endless to-do list. Yet today, I realized that my children were the ones leaving me for the first time, and it stirred something profound within me.
This emotional shift allowed me to feel the tender imprints those three little lives have left on my heart. They’ve grown from babies learning to walk and talk into curious little individuals exploring the world around them. They’re testing boundaries and developing independence, all while inviting me to share in the magic of these everyday moments. They yearn for my presence and attention, and I’m finally ready to be there for them.
I’m learning to embrace the sentimental side of motherhood, ensuring I don’t miss the enchantment that unfolds in the little moments. As they continue to grow, I strive to be present and celebrate this journey with them.
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Summary
The author reflects on her experience of feeling emotional as her child waves goodbye at preschool. Transitioning from a busy motherhood filled with chaos to a more mindful and present approach, she embraces the sentimental moments that come with watching her children grow.