I sat alone in the car, in the car park, and cried.
I hadn’t even turned on the ignition yet, nor put on my seatbelt. It felt like most of the cells in my body were shouting “go back!”. I wanted to go back, but I knew that I couldn’t, not really.
This isn’t some kind of dramatic escape novel, I’d just dropped my son off at nursery so I could go to work.
It had not gone well.
I’d somehow managed to get him in the car seat. I suspect I had lied to him in order to achieve that, which always felt wrong. Then he’d cried all the way there (a 5 minute drive which felt like 5 years) as soon as he’d clocked the direction we were heading in. Clever little things aren’t they.
He cried and pleaded with me as I got him out of the car and got his little bag. His cries got louder and big, fat tears came tumbling out of his eyes as we stood and waited at the door to be let in. I was holding him on my hip, and he tried to cling on to me as his nursery key worker physically removed him from me. He clutched at the space that increased between us and howled as he was taken inside. It was as if he was being taken from me forever, or to his death, or worse.
And then I was alone. And then I got in the car and cried.
It was as though I could still hear him (I couldn’t) and although he was under 1 and couldn’t talk to me properly, my head filled in the blanks:
“Why are you leaving me mummy?”
“Don’t you love me?”
“You’re so selfish. I HATE it here. Come back mummy, I NEED YOU.”
If this sounds familiar I really feel for you. It’s horrible. Separation anxiety is a right bitch. As if going back to work after maternity leave isn’t hard enough, you’ve got this cloud hanging over you the whole time.
I fully walked through the scenario in my head that I could hand in my notice at work immediately and never take my son back to nursery again. We wouldn’t be able to afford living in our house without my wage, but we could move to a flat. Then my son could spend every waking moment with me and never leave my side and we’d never have to go through that again. I was selfish for wanting to work. We could get by couldn’t we? Couldn’t we?
And then I remembered that I actually like my job. And my pay packet. And having spent long months in covid lockdown at a key early formative stage in his life, my son could probably really do with interacting with other people. And other people had told me it would get better. It will get better, won’t it. Won’t it?
Week after week we went through this. Every drop-off was the same. I’d carry the weight of it with me to work, it was hard to shake off.
Sometimes, just to mess with me, my son would actually be ok at the drop-off. Not as many tears, or even no tears. I’d start to hope that we were over the worst of it.
And then we’d go right back to Nicholas-Cage-on-acid style screaming. Back to square one.
I battled with that guilt every time. Explaining to myself why it was ok that I went to work. Some days I coped well. Other days I felt very grim about it.
Things that helped me were:
- My husband – he split the drop-offs with me which gave some relief
- My friends – they were a huge support when I was crying into WhatsApp group voice notes and always made me feel heard
- My mum, sisters and family – reminding me that my son has a lovely life, is safe and loved and really that’s all that matters (as well as telling me I’m a great mum, even if it didn’t feel like it)
- Affirmations – I was sceptical about these but as I pulled up in the work car park I used an app on my phone to remind me to say things out loud like: “I am a great mum” and “my son has a lovely life” and “It’s ok that my career is important to me”. It did actually help.
- Talking about it – people were on the whole supportive and it helped me digest what was happening
- Having a cry every now and then – sometimes it’s good to just let it out.
I hope these things are available to you, too. If you’ve got other coping strategies drop a comment at the end of the blog!
I’m not going to end on key pieces of advice about how to get through separation anxiety, because I haven’t got any. No matter what I tried, my son hated me leaving and that was that. It even got to be the same when I dropped him off with grandparents, or left him with Daddy.
It was hard work and none of the online tips or advice made any difference. One day, my son simply decided he was ok with me leaving, for reasons I’ll never know. We got there in the end (which is what everyone told me would happen, but didn’t seem helpful at the time!).
It’s another part of the juggle struggle. Hang in there.
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Juggle Struggle blog 