My middle son just turned five. He has been going to preschool since he was three. I admit that it wasn’t the easiest for him to start school but we only went through a few weeks of transition before he happily kissed me goodbye and ran off to play with his friends.
So why does a child that normally goes to school without a struggle, suddenly begin to regress to separation anxiety?
It began about two weeks ago. At the time in the morning where kisses and hugs are exchanged, my son started to cling to my leg. Each day I began to dread drop-off. Some days would be okay, while others were difficult. As I tried to hug him goodbye, he put such a tight grip on my neck that I almost felt my windpipe close up.
He has two very good teachers, in addition to parents that are frequently volunteering in class. I asked them if they noticed any usual behavior from him in school. I wanted to find out if he was having any conflicts with other students or adults at school. There was nothing. I asked him if something at school made him feel sad. His honest and innocent answer was, “No, but I just want you with me. My heart is lonesome for you when you are not here.” With those words, my heart ached.
The first time it happened, I allowed a personal day and took him home from school with the reasoning that maybe he was not feeling well. Not the best approach. Both his brother and Dad were at home sick that day and I thought he was having an off day. That taught him quickly that he had a lot of control. The next time, I did not offer to take him home.
Three days a week, as we walk into school, my little boy that laughs and says good morning to his friends, begins to hold my hand tighter and tighter the closer we get to the classroom. As we put his things away and he writes his name on the sign in sheet, he does not leave my side. From the time I position the baby’s stroller towards the door to leave; my son grabs my leg and holds on. I bend down to start the painful process of saying goodbye and his grip transfers to my neck and he starts to cry. His crying is heavy as if he was preparing for it and holding it in. He sobs and struggles to catch his breath as I softly whisper to him that he is safe at school, I will be back when both hands are on the twelve, I love him and know that he will have a fun day with his friends. His teachers approach us with toys, books and friendly smiles to help with my departure.
Sometimes he lets go of me on his own and looks up with his red, tear streaked face. “Goood..bbbye, MMMom.” His little voice quivers as he joins his teacher for a book or a friend to play. Other days, I have to pry his little fingers off my skin before I can walk out the door, unable to look back because of my own tearful eyes. More than once, I have walked out to my car, consumed by my own sobs. I strap the baby in his car seat and sit behind the wheel until my phone rings and I get the message that I am waiting for. It is his teacher, “He stopped crying as soon as you left and is happily playing with other kids.”
There are a couple of kids in class that project the same behavior as my son when their parents leave. Kids have good days and bad days, just like adults. It is heartbreaking to watch your child cry, especially as you question if it is justified or if they are simply pushing boundaries. As parents, we are all trying to accomplish the same thing, to raise healthy, well-adjusted children.
Child or adult, we all struggle with being separated from the ones we love.