I was going to post these pictures for Wordless Wednesday but let’s be honest: there is no way I am going to be wordless about this.
First of all, look how cute my kid is. Second of all, LOOK HOW CUTE MY KID IS.
SO CUTE. (P.S. if you’re not following me on facebook, please go here right now and watch Scarlette tell you how cute she is herself.)
Back in the spring we made the decision that come fall, we would put Scarlette in preschool for 2 mornings a week to help with her speech and social skills.
I always get overly emotional about milestones like this for a variety of reasons.
There’s the normal mommy stuff “My baby is getting so big! She’s going to preschool!”
And there’s also the only child stuff, the bittersweet bit about how we won’t have any more children and so every big step forward comes with a sense of finality. Every time I pack away another piece of clothing I’m reminded how we won’t ever again experience the newborn stage, the baby stage, the toddler stage.
And then there’s the prematurity filter, where I’m so exceedingly, overwhelmingly grateful that the tiny fist which first closed itself around my finger at 25 weeks gestation now grasps my hand and leads me down the hallway towards her classroom, where she’ll shout out the names of colors and letters and steal baby dolls from other kids because she’s just terrible at sharing.
I know that this is good for her because she is ready.
Obviously.
But I still had to have a separate meeting with her teachers about watching to be sure she doesn’t gag during snack time and not giving her milk and what to do if they find blood when they change her and it is so scary for me to leave her.
Sometimes I don’t know what part of my motherhood journey is just like every other new mom that has ever navigated this path and what part is attributed to post-traumatic stress symptoms that befall most parents of extremely premature babies. I’ve always had a very, very hard time leaving her and I don’t know if that is just motherhood or the residual effects of a forced separation from the beginning.
But I can’t stand off to the side translating her speech forever and so off to preschool we went.
I found this photo of my mother walking me into my first day of 2 year preschool and so naturally I dressed Scarlette in something similar so that I could take a matching picture. I, however, had the good sense not to recreate the outfit my mother was wearing circa 1985 because, well obviously. I can’t pull off hammer pants, y’all. These hips don’t lie.
Mommy’s first day of preschool, 1985 | Scarlette’s first day of preschool, 2013
(I love how Scarlette’s school bag is so big that it drags the ground as she walks.)
It’s such a small thing, starting preschool. But for me, after spending so long waiting to see: would she live, would she breathe, would she walk…it feels very big indeed. So I realize that I’m emotional. It’s just that back then, I never saw this coming. 
My heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices. – Psalm 16:9
