Of saying goodbye..

It has been smooth sailing so far. We have a goodbye ritual going for the last couple of months with my daughter, when we leave for work. So whenever Calculus or I leave for work, her grandfather brings her to the stairwell where she waves goodbye to us. She has been doing this happily for the last couple of months. She waits for us to go down exactly two floors, waiting for us to say bye to her from each floor down. But as soon as we are two floors down, she demands to be taken back home, which is all very well. I have been immensely pleased with this ritual and very glad that she has a happy face when we leave to work. Calculus on the other hand, has jokingly said a couple of times that she is far too happy when we go to work. He fears that she is not developing separation anxiety that she should have done so by this stage. And has obviously jinxed our whole sweet ritual, in the process.

Last Friday, as I was leaving to work, she cried and I felt my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Her little eyes welled up with tears, her tiny face grew all red and she cried liked her heart was breaking. It was gut-wrenching to turn around and head for work as if everything was normal. Of course I knew that the minute she turned and went back home, she would forget about it and get around her day as normal. That she would enjoy and bask in her grandparents’ affection, spread joy and laughter around, and enjoy every minute of her precious childhood.

All day though, I had this nagging feeling of self-doubt if I was doing the right thing by going to work or if I should stay home and protect my little one for as long as I could. For if goodbyes were going to be so difficult each day, then heaven help me.