I'm a Sentimental Freak

Today was Margaret’s last day at Gymboree. She starts preschool in 2 weeks, and I just don’t like the idea of having every day scheduled. I need flexibility! So, I signed up for the 2nd 10 weeks and it ended today. I told Margaret that it was her last day, but she seemed unfazed. I considered trying to get a photo of her with her teacher (Miss Sonya, who she loves and watches like a hawk when we’re there), but I was afraid I’d cry. The truth is, this is the first time Margaret will be saying goodbye to an activity and a person she really likes. And it breaks my heart. I know that life is full of these little moments…teachers you don’t see again after you take their class, classmates you don’t see again after the semester ends, neighbors who move to other states never to return. I guess I just feel like I’d love to protect her from any hurt forever, and that’s not possible without change. On one hand, I want her to grow and change and live life to its fullest, and on the other hand, I want to keep her right where she is, where the world is so new and interesting and not painful. Of course, the nature of time and life itself prevents anyone from staying the same: I love watching her discover the world, but as she does, she has to change. It’s life, and it’s fabulous, but also sad. I’m obviously overcome with pregnancy hormones. I did get tears in my eyes when Margaret participated in her last “parachute time” with bubbles and Baby Gymbo. She loves that stuff so much. Sure, she’s having her birthday party at Gymboree, but she really loves that weekly class. Of course, I’m the one who’s sad, and not her!

I have been saying for months now that having a baby opens your heart to the potential for the most amazing love in the world, but also to the potential for the most excruciating heartbreak. It has recently occurred to me how incredibly blessed my life has been. I married the most generous, sweet, kind man, was easily able to conceive and (well not so easily) deliver a remarkable baby who has enriched my life in ways that words cannot express. I have dear, loyal, and kind friends who know and love me, warts and all. My husband makes enough money so that I can stay at home with my daughter and future child as long as I am comfortable doing so, but he is accepting of me going back to work when I feel I need to for my own sanity. We do not live like kings, but we have enough money to have luxuries like satellite tv, DSL, several computers, air conditioning and heat set at reasonable temperatures, the occasional dinner out, clothes and shoes that aren’t too worn out. We have families who love and support us, and give us free babysitting almost whenever we need it. I have not suffered much tragedy at all. I have lost a couple of friends at too-young ages, but those people closest to me are all still alive and healthy (knock wood). But someday, I will have to experience the death of people I love. And so will Margaret. And that makes me unbelievably sad. I love that she adores her grandparents (well, the 3 of them that she knows well), and they will some day die. Loving people really opens you up to loss, but without love, what’s the point of even doing anything. It’s just ironic. Life…it kicks you in the ass.

Yeah, those pregnancy hormones…why else would I be sad about something that will likely someday happen, but is not currently happening? Yeah, hormones. In a couple of years, I assume this will subside. In the meantime, I will avoid Johnson & Johnson ads like the plague. They know how to push my buttons too.