I wanted to run in. I wanted to run into her room and melodramatically yell, “Don’t you realize what school means?! It means less time with mommy, less time playing. It means no more mid morning walks, no more waking up when you feel like it or eating when you feel like it. It means restriction. How could you possibly be excited to go!” I wanted to lie next to her in that little bed and talk about all kinds of wonderful things, wonderful things that we’ve done and ones that we want to do. I wanted to hear her talk about what she wants to be when she grows up and how magic dust makes her boo boos better and how her brain and lungs and every other part of her body works (since that’s what she is interested in). I wanted to do anything to keep today from coming. Alas, it was dark and she needed her rest. And so I decided to step outside with my tissue roll and lay on the trampoline and look up at the stars.
But I didn’t see the stars. The tears flooded the cool black mat. I couldn’t even stop them. They just came. Not the quiet, silent tears that we often have as adults. Real bellows, sobs. My neighbors already know we’re weird so I didn’t even care what they thought, if they thought anything at all. And while my head thought, “How absurd to cry over such a thing,” my heart felt real pain. I felt silly and stupid and childish and heartbroken all at the same time. I mean she’s not dead or dying or even ill. She has no disease, and she has no disability, but I felt mad that she would no longer be here with me all the time, where I could be in control of what she sees, hears, and does, where I could kiss her any time I want. I wanted to scream up at the sky and the planes passing by. I wanted them to know my stupid, absurd, feelings. I was glad no one was there to see such a display. And finally when no more tears would come and the sobs had ceased and all I could hear were the crickets’ songs, I prayed earnestly for peace.
You see our decision to send Big Love to public school did not come lightly. And it is not what we really wanted to do. And it still is not. But it’s what we feel is best for her and our family right now. And, until we see that it’s not, she will continue to go to public school. And I will continue to pray for peace.
I am happy that she’s happy. I’m over the moon that she loves her teacher and is excited about school. And you can bet I’ll be there to volunteer, eat lunch, for field trips and parties. But ultimately, my absurd display out there, at night, on the trampoline (Big Love’s 5th birthday present no less) is a sign of my mistrust of God. I have to let go of my control and let God be in control of her life. I have to trust that He will guide her and us through this process and that whatever comes her way will not be more than she can deal with. After all, He has brought her through some pretty tumultuous times already. I have to recognize that God’s way is much much better than mine.