Tomorrow, I will be the villain while my poor child screams for me like she has no hope of rescue. That is why I have this leaden feeling in my gut. No matter how much I talk up the fun she'll have, the projects she'll paint, the songs she'll sing, I know it will all be forgotten the moment I let go of her hand and start walking towards the door. No matter how many times she nods her head, acknowledges that I will be waiting outside the door as soon as school is done and agrees that I always keep my promises, she will still shatter into a million broken pieces when I kiss her goodbye. And I will smile, not cry, until I reach the safety of my car. Then I will concentrate on not throwing up which is what I always feel like doing when my children are hurt or frightened.
She needs to go. Her attachment to me only grows stronger and I am not going to home school her. If she has a special place of her own that doesn't involve me in any way, the baby's arrival might be less of a trauma. It will be good for her to make friends, have a good relationship with adults, learn new things and see that life away from me is not torture. In my head, I know this is true. So why do I feel like I'm doing something awful to her?
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