ADVENTURES IN DAYCARE
disclaimer: I know that some of the things I say in this post are not going to be very popular. Please know I am not trying to offend or criticize others in the decisions they have made (or perhaps have been forced to make) regarding child care, but these are simply the true raw feelings I am experiencing today.
So yesterday morning, my mom and I wanted to go to Spinning class together. We decided we'd try putting Amanda in the daycare at my gym. I figured this was a good chance to try it out. How hard could it be? It is only for 1 hour, and she is two rooms away from me. No biggie.
Yeah, right.
She was asleep in her car seat as I got to the gym, but woke up as soon as we went into the daycare room. I knew she needed to nap, so I told them to just leave her in her car seat, that she MAY fall back asleep. They had a separate area gated off for the little ones Amanda's age, and at this point she was the only child in the daycare room who wasn't able to walk. I put her carseat on the floor, gave her a kiss, and tried to leave.
I couldn't, though. It was as though my feet were glued to the floor. She just kept staring at me with her big green eyes, sucking away on her green pacifier (for St. Patty's Day, of course). I felt horrible walking out of the room, leaving her there. She wasn't crying or anything, but I felt horrible just the same. I told the woman that my spinning bike was closest to the door, so that if there was a problem they could just come and grab me right away.
Mom and I walked to the spinning room, and after a few minutes warming up on the bikes, waiting for the instructor to come in, I turned to my mom and said "I just feel like I am doing something WRONG." My mother assured me that Amanda was fine; if she wasn't, they would come and get me. "Still," I said, "this is much harder than I thought it would be, I feel so guilty." Then I started crying!
What the hell is wrong with me? I got off my bike and went to go check on her (keep in mind, she had been in daycare officially for five minutes). I am a lunatic. She was in the same spot, in her carseat, still not crying, still staring up at the ceiling and sucking away on her binkie. I calmed myself down and returned to class.
I don't think I ever gave spinning class as much effort as I did yesterday. Again, I think it was the guilt factor; I figured if I felt so bad about leaving her in the daycare room for an hour, then the workout better be worth it. I was absolutely drenched in sweat when class was over. I cleaned off my bike and couldn't get to the daycare room fast enough.
When I walked in, I noticed that one of the women working there was carrying Amanda. My heart sank.
"Was there a problem?" I cautiously asked.
"Oh no, she was crying so I took her out of the car seat and she burped a couple of times. She just had gas. She's been a little fussy since then but she's fine."
Okay...I started to relax a bit. Amanda looked fine, seemed fine. The woman was telling me everything was fine. I got to take my class...maybe this wasn't so bad. I took Amanda from her and went to go get her car seat.
And then...
In the space where Amanda had been all by herself, there were now two car seats. In one was a sleeping baby. In the other, next to Amanda's, was a little baby boy no older than Amanda, and he was crying. In fact, he may have even been a tad younger than Amanda, because he still had that little newborn lamby cry, not the strong loud cry my daughter has recently grown into. I put Amanda into her car seat as this adorable little baby boy continued to cry and cry and cry. "Where's your mommy?" I asked him. He continued to cry. Perhaps he had just been dropped off, so his mommy wouldn't be coming for another hour. But. No one was paying any attention to him but me.
I wanted so badly to pick him up and cuddle him and make him feel better, but I know that is a HUGE no-no. I am not his mother, and I don't work in the daycare. If I even approached him someone might think I was trying to kidnap him or something. Not to mention I wouldn't want some strange mother picking up Amanda.
But each passing moment as I was dressing Amanda for the cold outdoor weather, each minute that went by that he cried and NO DAYCARE WORKER WAS COMING OVER TO CHECK ON HIM, I got sadder, and angrier, and sadder, and angrier.
Eventually, the woman who had been holding Amanda popped her head over the half wall and said to the baby boy "Are you being fussy?" But that was it, she walked away and left him in the seat, crying!
At this point I was so upset and I felt the guilt piling up inside of me again. I signed Amanda out and we left for home. I turned to my mom in the car and said "Why wasn't anyone going over to check on that baby?" She just shook her head. "I don't know...too many other kids to watch? I don't know. It bothered me too, Dawn."
Then I said to her "at what point do you think they picked up Amanda? Did they let her cry for a few minutes? Or twenty minutes? Or half an hour? Did they wait until she was absolutely wailing and hysterical? I will never know because I WASN'T THERE."
This ate at me all day long. Just how upset did they let Amanda get before they paid any attention to her? Not knowing was killing me. And knowing that she was potentially in distress and I wasn't there for her made me feel atrocious. And all I could think about all day long was that cute little crying baby boy. He needed a hug, and I wanted so badly to give him one, and knowing that I couldn't I just wished I had seen someone else at least make the effort to give him one.
Later that day I was telling all of this to my sister Eileen, who once worked in a daycare. "That's what daycare is, Dawn. Your child is NEVER going to get the kind of attention you'd give them when they are in daycare." I just shook my head in a sad disbelief. Eileen went on, "there were some things I liked about working at the daycare, but other things I really, really disliked, and that was one of them."
"How do people do it? How do people put their baby in daycare for the day and go to work?"
Eileen said "I don't know, I guess they force themselves not to think about it, because if they did think about it they'd never be able to drop them off for the day, it would be too hard."
All night long all I could think about is how lucky I am that I don't have to make this heartbreaking choice to place Amanda in daycare. I am so happy that I am lucky enough to get to stay home and take care of her. It would break my heart into a million pieces to have to leave her in the care of strangers for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Even in the very best of daycare centers, she wouldn't be getting all the love and all the attention that I think she needs.
Amanda won't be going back to gym daycare until she is old enough to be able to play with toys and placate herself. Even then, I am only going to bring her very sporadically.
I know now more than ever that I need to be here for her, and I need to be with her so that any time she is sad and needs a hug, I can give it to her.
