My daughter's first day of nursery school

Today was Emma's first day of nursery school. She turns 3 in January and she's starting two half-days a week. I was working this morning when my wife left with her, so I said goodbye earlier and had to do my best to compartmentalize and focus on therapy. When Deb dropped Emma at school, they told her if she cries for more than 15 minutes and is inconsolable that they'd call her. 

The teacher posted some photos realtime on their Facebook page. She looked kind of sad. In one picture she was snuggling with one of the teachers. In another, she was playing a game by herself.  

Emma inspecting for insects in the garden at her nursery school

I can't believe she is starting school, her first venture out of the love-filled cocoon at home. The rational part of me knows that this is good for her and that the world is not a place filled with people that think she walks on water. 

The rational part of me knows she will have to deal with all sorts of kids. Some will push her and take things from her and make her cry. 

The rational part of me knows that I cannot be there to translate to the teacher if she is saying something in Spanish.
 
The rational part of me knows this is good for her. I cannot have her live under my wing her whole life. It's not possible to protect her from everything, nor would would it benefit her even if I could.

What will her teacher do if she doesn't understand her? 

How will it be when she goes to the bathroom in her pull-up and has to be changed by a virtual stranger? 

I went with Deb to pick her up. We were the first ones there. Deb went inside at three minutes to one and I waited outside by the car. I could see some of the other kids coming out of the classroom. Then I saw Emma, sauntering along with her lunchbox with the two cherries on it, the sun reflecting off her blonde locks. I waved and said hi and she smiled and then went to the front door to see the doorbell. She's a big fan of doorbells. 

Emma with her cherry lunchbox

I asked her if she wanted to go to Thai Fresh, which she knows means to go for ice cream. She beelined to the car. I could already see that there was something different about her. She seemed more confident. 

She was in great spirits at lunch and waited patiently for her ice cream. We laughed a lot and I held her hand gently while she ate. I cried and dried my eyes, because tears at that point would've been confusing to her. Deb said she could see the rivers of love pouring from my eyes. 

Emma and me at lunch after her first day of school

​We got home and we both felt relieved that the day went so well. Her teachers said she did cry and was hesitant at first, but she grew more comfortable and then started exploring her surroundings and asking questions. The teacher said she was peaceful and kind.
 
My heart aches with love right now. The powerlessness of being a parent feels so palpable. But I'm also proud of Emma and incredibly excited for her to continue to explore, discover, make friends and grow. 

I am also very clear that i want to empower my daughter to be strong, fierce, loving, sensitive, creative, opinionated, challenging, independent and vulnerable. The same things I want for my son. 

I want my love to empower her and not to hold her back. I know that means that I have to try to harness something that at times feels so immense and powerful that it would snap the thickest of chains, but I've gotta try.

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​David B. Younger, Ph.D is the creator of Love After Kids, for couples that have grown apart since having children. He is a clinical psychologist and couples therapist with a web-based private practice, and lives in Austin, Texas with his wife, 11 year-old son, 2 year-old daughter and 4 year-old toy poodle.