I cried the day I dropped her off. My heart was heavy as a first-time mom. She was our miracle—the product of a long fertility journey after many losses, tears, finances, and prayers. I didn’t want to leave her. The thought of being a stay-at-home mother crossed my mind more times than I could count. We chose an in-home daycare after hearing many good stories. I knew she would be safe, but there is always concern within a mother’s mind about her child.
I handed over my tiny, 12-pound, 4-month-old daughter on a hot summer August day. I watched the woman, who would care for my child while I worked, smile and hug my baby, talking to her so sweetly and calmly. As I walked out, the mother of an incoming kindergartener was sitting in the driveway, watching her daughter walk into the house independently. She could see the tears behind my sunglasses and asked, “Is this her first day?” I nodded with a half-smile, trying to keep the tears inside.
“Oh, mama. She’s in the best care here. You won’t want her to leave someday,” she said.
I smiled and, with a shaky voice, replied, “That’s good to hear. Thank you.” I walked to my vehicle, buckled up, and drove to work, avoiding smearing my mascara by dabbing a Kleenex next to my eye each time a new tear appeared. Day one was rough. I thought about my daughter all day, but I arrived to pick up a happy, healthy baby.
Each day after work was the same—our daughter was always happy. She loved playing with the kids and learning new words, tricks, and songs, but most of all, she loved her daycare provider. She loved the house, toys, baked goods, and the drum set. Learning and preparing for school was held to a high standard, and our daughter loved it. She excelled and seemed more advanced than kids her age because there were always kids older than her around. I never experienced a day when she was unhappy when I picked her up.
After being able to visit each day after work, I formed a friendship with the most amazing woman and quickly learned to trust her abilities and care. As our daughter grew and began to talk, our daughter raved about how much fun it was at L’s house. Not only did I leave her in the hands of someone who taught her kindness and how to pick up, but I also placed her into the arms of a woman who loved the Lord. The kids prayed before lunch each day and sang the first verse from Johnny Appleseed. Kindness, listening, following directions, and loving one another was always emphasized.
As July began five years after dropping her off, my heart sank more each day. I knew “the day” was soon arriving—the last day. It’s a varying mix of emotions for a mother. For me, this day brought both joy and sadness. I was excited to spend a month with just my daughter before going back to work and having her start kindergarten, but I was also experiencing a different form of grief I had never known.
I cried the day we left. We had to say goodbye to one of the most influential people in our lives who loved and cared for our little miracle. It was no longer “See you tomorrow,” but “Please keep in touch.” My heart sank that day. We stopped by to give L a picture on a day she was closed. I watched the most amazing woman who cared for our little miracle sweep up our daughter and hold her, hugging her tight for a good two minutes with tears in her eyes. The pain of goodbye filled my chest, and tears began to flow. She loved my daughter, and she loved us as a family. We will always cherish her; she has a special place in our hearts.
There’s something unique about an in-home daycare. You get to know the provider personally, and they get to know your family. It’s a love worth trying.
I cried the day I dropped her off. I cried the day we left.
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page
by Angela Williams Glenn 
by Alicia K. Albertson 
by Leslie Means 
