Why Am I Crying?

“I’m sure you’ll both be really happy here,” the new director says and I can feel the tears swell. “Okay, I have to go.” I barely get out before I’m overcome with emotion. I attempt to focus on the road ahead as big, heavy tears burst from my eyes. It’s hard to catch my breath. Why does this feel like such a big deal? It’s just a new daycare.

I message the other mom’s asking if they are having a hard time with the transition as well. The daycare center our kids have gone to since they were infants let us know three weeks ago they were dropping their early pre-school program and we’d be offered spots at one of their larger centers. We all felt annoyed at the suddenness of the decision and the need to shift our family’s rountines, but it seemed I was feeling the decision on a deeper level.

A memory popped up on my phone one morning of my friend Ryan, as they often do, because we became besties as babies. I looked at it and it hit me, maybe this is why. Because while I know for many families daycare is just a helpful place to care for your children while balancing the demands of work and life, for me, those early childcare experiences were the starting place for friendships that have lasted my whole life.

I can actually remember feeling so grateful that Ryan was going to be in my pre-school class because I knew it meant we were going to have fun. Every day of my entire friendship with him made me feel safe. And I see that with my daughter and her little daycare buds. Her “besties.” When I see her hug Ellen when she’s feeling sad, or want to call Oscar to “tell him something” after she’s been with him all day, it brings me back to building my own relationships so many years ago.

It can be easy to think that toddlers are resilient and, to their credit, they often are. But they still have their own form of community and disrupting it shouldn’t be taken lightly. Since my family lives in the City, all of our neighbor kids go to different schools. They aren’t all hopping on the bus together, we won’t see their families at community tailgates or after a middle school theatre. So I already know that inherently Bettie will have more fluidity in her networks than I ever had growing up in the suburbs. And I just don’t think I’m ready to start saying bye.

And maybe a piece of that is because I had to say goodbye to my preschool bestie earlier this year. And even though we continued on as friends, long into adulthood, so many of my days with Bettie remind me of our early friendship. When I signed her up for gymnastics and I saw the little boys sitting next to her, I remembered our years tumbling and laughing at East Hills. And when she jumps off the side of our pool, I still smell the chlorine from all our afternoons in his. When I see Bettie and her cousin laughing, thinking they are being so funny, I am taken back to so many goofy days together.

And I miss him. And I want Bettie to be able to call her little besties when she is in her late 30’s and have them pick up the phone. When my mom told me how it felt when she heard the news of Ryan’s passing, I could understand it so keeny. She told me that as soon as she heard the news, she felt in her bones as though he was her own son. And I get that. Because my heart already just overflows for my daughters little buds.

So I cried on the phone. And I cried when I dropped Bettie off at the new center. And I cry when I think about Ryan. Because life is layered.