Nursery Nightmare

I recall, very vividly, standing at my front door, talking with my mother-in-law about how I looked forward to the day that I would try to hand Toad to someone else and he would cling to me, as if to say, "No! I want my mama. Don't take me away from her!" That was several months ago. I remember thinking that it would just warm my heart to have my son choose me over another. However, when I said that, I didn't mean that I want my son to be so attached to me that I feel like I am ripping his heart out if I leave him with other very capable people for a short while.

December 2nd: First time that we left Toad in the nursery at church. We dutifully signed him in and took a pager and headed to the sanctuary. I sat there in the pew with a knot in my stomach, all the while my loving husband trying to calm my uneasiness with steady, gentle strokes of his hand across mine. Not long into the service did our pager go off. It scared me to the point that I almost jumped out of my seat. I shouldn't have been surprised that it went off, because I was practically on pins and needles, waiting for it to buzz. Oddly enough, I was somewhat relieved. I jumped to my feet and made a b-line for the nursery. As I opened the door, I could see little Toad fussing in the arms of the ever-so-calm nursery worker. She proceeded to tell me that she thought maybe he was hungry, as she thought he was "nuzzling" against her. Knowing that he had just been fed 30-45 minutes prior, I was sure he was not hungry. After I took Toad from her arms, he stopped fussing...within mere seconds. He just wanted his mommy, it seemed. Off to the sanctuary to hear the last half of the sermon.

December 23: Let's try this again. We dropped Toad off at the nursery with a clean diaper and a full belly. He had been fed rice cereal and fruit just before we left the house and I nursed him in the parking lot at church, just before dropping him off. Thus, I knew he was not hungry. Again, we signed him in to the nursery, took our pager and headed for the sanctuary. Imagine how proud I was when the service was over and we hadn't been paged! Yay! He made it! I was thrilled. Imagine my disappointment and feelings of guilt when we went to pick Toad up from the nursery and he was being rocked in the arms of the nursery worker as he sobbed pathetically. As I looked at the worker, she said "I think he may be hungry." I wanted to explain to her, in great detail, how much he had eaten, to prove that he was NOT HUNGRY! But, before I could do so, she informed us that they tried to page us. What!??!! Our pager never went off! I felt awful. Awful that the nursery workers must have thought that we were ignoring their paging. Awful that Toad had been so upset for however long. Awful that Toad must have thought that we didn't come when he "needed" us. UGH! That pit in my stomach returned. Taking Toad from the nursery worker, he immediately stopped crying, though. Thus, the pit in my stomach shrunk a bit. It felt so good to know that I have the ability to calm and console my son. Yet, it felt horrible that he was becoming "that kid" to the nursery workers.

January 20th: Third time's a charm, right? Not so much. Same deal...fed, nursed, signed-in, dropped-off. Sitting in church, we made it through the announcements and singing. The sermon begins. As I look at the overhead screen to confirm the scripture references, I notice a running ticker at the bottom of the screen. "Parents of Toad please come to the nursery." OH MY WORD! Why didn't they just page us! Did they have to put it on the screen for the entire congregation to see?! Knowing that I am mortified, our row of friends jokingly snicker at us. All in good fun, of course. Again, I rush out, heading to the nursery. Once I open the glass doors from the sanctuary, I hear the faint whimpers of my son. There he is, with the nursery worker, bawling in the courtyard. The poor child was screaming so loudly that the worker took him out into the courtyard to try to provide him a change of scenery. It didn't work. But, bless her heart for trying. Since Toad was facing the worker, he didn't even see my face when I took him from her... Yet, he piped down right away. One of our pastors (who had heard him screaming in the nursery room) walked up to us and commented to Toad, "Now, that smells better, doesn't it?" At first, I thought that was an odd statement, but quickly realized what he was saying. My son knows my smell. He knows my touch. He knows my heartbeat. He knows my love. The fact that he stopped screaming when I took him in my arms, although he hadn't even seen my countenance, confirms to me that he KNOWS his mom, just as I know my son. Of course, they had tried to page us...which didn't work because, again, we got a dead pager. And, of course, the worker suggested that Toad was probably hungry. Grr! Like I said, I know my son... And I KNOW he was NOT HUNGRY!! But, I understand that they had tried everything but feeding him... well, almost everything. They hadn't tried mom's arms, yet.

The fourth time apparently wasn't a charm either, because I tried to leave Toad in the nursery this morning while I was at church for Bible study. Yet again, my pager didn't go off. This time, someone had to actually come to the room I was in and summon me to the nursery. I didn't get all the way to the nursery before I saw a worker in the courtyard, holding my boy. In an effort to avoid the "I think he is hungry" thing, I packed a bottle in Toad's diaper bag this morning. But, my effort was all for not as he had apparently refused to even take it. However, he did not refuse to cuddle up in my arms and hold on to me with the sweetest, most heart-
warming grip.
How can one be upset that her son wants her, loves her, cries out for her? Upset I'm not. Unsure, I am. Unsure as to what to do. Uneasy, yes. Uneasy, feeling that my son thinks I am abandoning him. Unsettled, for sure. Unsettled about the idea that my child thinks socializing with other children is torture because his mommy isn't there with him.
I am blessed to have a son who wants to be with me. I want to cherish these times, as I know that it will be all too soon that he is "too cool" for me. Yet, I need to worship, grow, learn and fellowship without him in my arms, too.
What's a mom to do?