You know that feeling? I can’t be the only one who gets it.
It hits deep, down in the pit of my stomach. Generally, it starts out quietly and then slowly grows. I don’t usually even notice it until it’s been there for a while. And then once I recognize it, it seems to grow even faster.
It’s a feeling of dread… and I have it right now.
The particular reason for this dread is due to a combination of fear, excitement, and past experience. It is because, in spite of her amazing accomplishments, I have to send Mia off to school alone.
I know she’s not this little any more, but in my mind she is
She won’t have the teachers, family, friends, and staff who have loved and nurtured her for 13 years. She won’t have her puppies who calm her when she gets stressed. She won’t have her room at home where she goes to get centered. She is facing an entirely new life and I won’t be there to buffer any of it… not even a single moment.
Do I think she will do well? Let’s just say I am cautiously optimistic. And I certainly want her to do well. I want her to rock the summer program and her classes in the fall. I want her to make friends and feel like she has found her place to be herself and grow. I have a great deal of hope for her.
*insert the screech sound you hear when a needle is dragged across a record as it plays*
I also know my kid. I am the one who had to drive up to rescue her after only a few days of a week-long camp because it just wasn’t working. Yes, that was almost 10 years ago, but the mom in me has that memory quietly mumbling in my brain.
I have so much faith in my girl. I really do. But I can’t help but also be a mom. And it scares the absolute life out of me to send her off with no control at all. I can send texts. I can call. I can answer her call. I can also send snail mail.
But the rest of it is on her…
I had a teeny tiny bit of this with August last year. But not really. Because August was so eager and ready to GO.
Mia, on the other hand, is nervous. And quiet. And sad to see her years at Riverview end. She does not like change. She likes her world as it is.
You don’t have to understand and I don’t need sympathy. I’m just being brutally honest. My kiddo… my autistic, kind-hearted, super-sweet, extremely naive kiddo… is heading out into the big wide world and I am terrified.
