Separation Anxiety

This is not a blog entry about Oliver's separation anxiety.

It's about mine.

I lost count of the times I cried over leaving Oliver at the end of my maternity leave some 15 months ago.  I can still see myself on the nursery floor:  Oliver on a blanket happily cooing and waggling his arms and legs around indiscriminately, me with my head hung in hormonal despair, tears plop-plop-plopping onto the carpet.  What will Oliver think?  I whimpered inside my head.  Here I spend every moment of the day with him for almost four months...and on Monday I will drop him off at a stranger's house for the majority of his waking life.  I could not shake the fear that somewhere in his developing little head, he would wonder why Mommy was leaving him. 

Oliver adores his daycare provider.  He loves his four little best friends there too.  In fact, most days when I pick him up, I can hardly get him into his jacket and hat without a mini-tantrum.  I couldn't be happier.  I could be more convenienced if he was willing to leave, but I couldn't be happier over his reluctance.

Lately, maybe due to immense stress at work, maybe due to Oliver's growing independence, I feel like I'm going through my separation anxiety all over again. I miss him.  Like, really miss him.  Today Michael and I swapped duties due to schedules: I dropped Ollie off, and Michael picked him up.  When we arrived at daycare, Oliver smiled at his friends, showed them all the dinosaur that resided on his new hoodie, and started to walk towards the toys.  But then he turned around and ran smiling into my arms.  Like, four times.  "Mama!" he said, with a tone of, "I just love you!"  It tore my heart out and made me so elated all at the same time. 

My pangs of separation radiated into tributaries of guilt last week, and as I drove home with some tears one night, I ran into Target just before picking Oliver up.  On a whim, I ran to the art supply aisle and bought a big pad of paper, and set Ollie up at the table with his new art supplies when we got home. 

So yeah, his departure for college will arrive in about 16 1/2 years.  I'll probably chase after him 2 days after he's tucked into his dorm room.  I'll knock on his door, and with tear-streaked cheeks, smile over his new laptop, Ipad, Ipod, BluRay player and PlayStation 14 that I have stacked up in my arms. 

(This won't be getting easier any time soon, will it?)