A mother’s first day outside a daycare

At 8 months, 17 days, 10.5 hours, I drop her at the daycare. Earlier in the day, we called it a ‘test run’ for a few hours to understand how she manages. It was during the brief moment when she was carried away into the infant room, I realised it was also concerning how I would manage. 
It felt vicious to drop a baby off without being able to communicate that she will be picked up for sure. I wanted to reassure her that she will come back home to her parents.

Only means of communication that could connect with her was the much familiar kiss on the forehead and she smiled beamingly, not knowing the separation anxiety awaiting the both of us. 

Thanks to technology, I could watch her through the camera for almost as long as she was inside, until the receptionist had to insist I take a break. 
After a porridge meal, she looked all over the vast room, apparently searching for me. I could hear her cry, loud and clear, as if she is the only child in the room.

Another angel in a blue frock reached her. Neither of them could speak but it was incredible to watch them communicate. The other angel managed to distract her search for mom. 

This little moment in life is called humanity. A sense of trait instilled to all, at birth. To be nurtured for rest of life.

It is glaringly visible that she is sitting on someone, lifting her leg up and dropping it down. An action she performs only when at ease. Convincing as it seems, I step out for a break.

Half past noon, she must have had her lunch meal or so I presume. I go back to the entrance to pick her and felt a thud in me, to hear the cry again, albeit mild. A cry that stopped instantly on distantly grabbing a glimpse of me. 

‘She doesn’t know how to sleep and we are trying to help her’, assures the care taker. We discuss ways that could help before bidding good bye for the day. 

Little one came back to throw a smile. And so, returned my own smile. I check if there is lesser water and fewer diapers left in the bag.

As I drive her back home, I must admit that she managed the first day better than I did.

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