This morning marked a significant milestone for me. I dropped off my son, Max, at preschool for the first time. As I pulled away, I couldn’t help but watch him put on his little backpack, grasp his teacher’s hand, and wave goodbye with a beaming smile. It was a heartfelt farewell, and I found myself overwhelmed with emotion.
Before I knew it, I was in the midst of an uncontrollable sob—an ugly cry that I didn’t think I’d experience, especially not in front of my husband. My tears flowed so freely that they pooled in my lap, leaving me looking as though I had a minor accident. I walked into my therapy session at 10:00 feeling like a wreck.
Crying after dropping my kids off is not typical for me. While I’m an emotional person, I’ve never been the overly sentimental mom. With three boys in quick succession (my oldest, Leo, was just two months shy of three when his baby brother came along), I barely had time to process my feelings.
When Leo learned to crawl, I was in the bathroom dealing with severe morning sickness during my second and third pregnancies. I was simply relieved that his cries for a toy just out of reach would soon stop.
On Leo’s first day of preschool, I didn’t return to an empty house. Instead, I had my six-month-old, Ethan, to care for before heading to the grocery store. Shopping with one child was a breeze compared to managing two.
When my middle child, Noah, took his first steps, I was in the hospital with pregnancy complications. And when he made his second steps, I was busy cleaning marker off the walls, courtesy of Leo. I was relieved that Noah could now keep pace with his brother, which cut down on the whining significantly.
The first time Ethan looked at me and said “Mama,” I felt utterly blank. Postpartum depression had robbed me of the joy that should have accompanied that moment. I was overwhelmed by chaos and didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to appreciate the fleeting, precious moments surrounding me.
But over the past year, life has calmed down. My youngest is now almost 2½, and I finally feel like I can breathe again. Each breath is a reminder to savor those little moments instead of wishing them away. I recognize how quickly time passes, and I’m learning to feel deeply.
For four years, I’ve been dropping my kids off at preschool without shedding a tear. While they’ve cried, I’ve been the composed mom, rushing off to tackle my to-do list. Today, however, I realized I was not the one leaving them for a change. For the first time, they were leaving me.
It was a profound moment, feeling the emotional weight of my children’s lives etched into my heart. They are no longer my babies learning basic skills; they are growing and exploring the world with excitement. Each day, they wake with eager spirits, pushing boundaries and embracing independence. They are inviting me to share in the magic of their discoveries, asking me to be present for those little moments.
And now, I’m here. I’m finally learning to be the sentimental mom I never thought I would be, ensuring I don’t miss the enchantment of motherhood.
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In summary, it’s never too late to embrace your sentimental side as a parent, no matter how busy life gets.
Keyphrase: sentimental motherhood
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