Separation Anxiety

Separation anxiety. Every mother has been through it and doesn’t wish it on her worst enemy. At about eight to ten months of age until 2, your baby starts a painful stage of development.

 When Sofia was a toddler she became increasingly attached to me day after day, as I met her needs on a regular basis. When I'd leave her at daycare, she'd suddenly start crying. Big tears would roll down her chubby cheeks, and her lower lip would roll out and quiver. I sensed her anxiousness, and that parental instinct kicked in. I'd reach out to take her back in my arms and with comforting words whisper that I was near. She'd calm down as I'd wipe away the tears and the snot. Then she turned back into the happy girl I knew. I'd hand her over to another pair of arms and she'd wind up again like a siren. She'd do the “back arch” move and fling her head back in discontent. 

So anyway, this is was a taste of my experience with separation anxiety. 

There’s good and bad news about it.

First- The good news was that I'd come to realize that I’d done nothing wrong. (This was my second child and it took me this long to understand that). I'd get to the point sometimes where I’d just wait for Child Protective Services to ring my doorbell and whisk her away to the “perfect mommy”. I sit and rack my brain trying to figure out why my child was so “pissed off”. The “I’m-a-bad-mother” emotions would start to flow along with my adrenalin and I'd dp practically anything to make things better and to keep her calm. Now, If you’re employed outside the home like I am and leave your baby in the arms of another, you are not making it worse or better. If you are a stay-at-home parent you are not making it worse or better. It is a stage of development as natural as learning to walk.

After much research, I come to find that my child was actually experiencing a burst of development in two areas. Sofia was experiencing more long-term memory, or what experts call cognitive growth. What was once “out of sight out of mind” is now out of sight and still in mind. The thought of me leaving her sight was causing her grief.

I couldn't even use the toilet without my little Sofia sitting on my lap. Now, you can get a visual of how this worked:

I'd sit on the toilet with the bathroom door open, she'd sit on my lap where she could view the T.V. and watch The Teletubbies while I (with precision, mind you) read a magazine. As soon as she'd hear the toilet paper roll start to unravel, she'd start to hyperventilate because she knew I'd have to take her off my lap for a minute. This is when Scream Fest 2004 began.

She was quite sensitive to the comings and goings of the important people in her life. She was also progressing in her social skills. While she needed me, she also wanted to separate from me. This inner conflict of dependence versus independence and learning to separate can be quite troubling. The bad news was that separation anxiety had to take its sweet time to blossom, wither, and pass away. ThenI had to look forward to it blooming again when she was three (Mia went through it at 3) and even as a kindergartner. Just thinking about it drains me.

During that "phase" my husband, Charlie had to go out of town for 3 weeks. So not only was I dealing with a hysterical toddler, I had to be “sane mommy” for my 5 year-old, Mia and my 2 dogs. I’d be lying if I said things went hunky dory…to put it in a nutshell, they almost became orphan children. Granted, they missed daddy and Christmas was right around the corner, but waking up at the crack of dawn and trying to get them used to a routine sans daddy was not easy.

 

Let me give you a taste of how a typical Monday went back then:

 

3:16 a.m.: Sofia wakes up. I grab a pacifier, lay her in my bed and she falls back asleep.                                                                                                                           

5:15 a.m.: I wake up and see that both of my little ones are still fast asleep. I’m elated! I will actually get to take a few minutes to apply make-up and wear something unwrinkled! I tip toe to the bathroom and even before I flick the light switch, I hear Sofia start to cry.                                                                                             

5:20 a.m: Exhaustion is the reflection I see in the mirror…this will be the onset of a tough morning.                                                                                                                              

5:25 a.m: I change her diaper, give her milk and lay her back down, she flings her bottle across the room and sits up and starts to whine.                                                                                                                                                 

5:35 a.m: I convince myself that she’ll be ok and that she’ll stop crying. I start to get ready. Her crying reaches indescribable decibels. I’m sure people on the neighboring continent can hear her. Frustration starts to set in. I try to tune her out as I do my hair. With every spritz of hairspray, her crying increases. She hates me. If she could talk, I’m sure she’d tell me to go to hell and throw up the middle finger.                                                                                                                                            

5:45 a.m.: I finally pick Sofia up and attempt to console her. She lays her head on my shoulder and snuggles up to me. Guilt starts to seep through my veins. I think to myself, “Geez, Sandra, this is all she wanted!! Work can wait! This is more important! Who cares if you’re late?! Who cares if you have one eye of mascara and no deodorant?!”                                                                                                                                 

6:00 a.m.: Mia must have felt for me because she was the perfect little 5 year-old. She got herself dressed, brushed her hair and fed the dogs.                                                                                               

6:15 a.m.: I try to sit Sofia down next to me on the couch so I could put my shoes on. She has the death grip on my neck. I pry her off me, I pluck her fingernails out of my trachea and place her next to me. Oh yes.. I set off the “tantrum” button. I quickly get up, grab her and get her jacket on, Mia’s jacket on, put the dogs in the laundry room, lock up the gate, then realized I forgot my purse.                                                                                                                         

6:45 a.m: I unlock the baby gate, grab my purse, and the diaper bag and a snack bag. Sofia is in my right arm. All other bags hang off my left arm. I am sweating bullets. I look like a frickin’ human Christmas tree. Then.. The phone rings.                                                                                                

7:00 a.m.: I thrown everything but Sofia on the floor, unlock the gate again and grab the phone. It’s my husband, Charlie. “Hey you! How are things going?!”                                                                      

7:01 a.m.: I start to cry. Sofia starts to cry. The dog starts to hump my leg.     

7:10 a.m.: FINALLY..everyone is in the car. I thrown on a Disney Princess DVD, give Sofia her bottle, Mia her snack and in less than 10 minutes..the Baumunk girls are fast asleep on their way to school. They look like angels.                                                                                                               

7:30 a.m.: I slowly take the 9mm away from my temple. Maybe life isn’t that bad. This is all a part of motherhood. I look over Mia’s head and through my passenger window and see the sunrise. I breathe and I thank God for my blessings. What a lucky woman I am.

 

What could be more rewarding??

 

And with that, my thoughts are soon answered…with a flying milk bottle hurled towards the back of my head.

 

Ahhhh..Motherhood.