My little one.

I can not get it through my head that he started school today. We've been preparing for weeks. He has all his school clothes, his back pack, his supplies, even his own agenda. But it never really hit me until we walked through the doors this morning. The fear that struck through me is unlike any I have ever faced. My baby. My first born. Wee little one of seven pounds five ounces. It was inevitable that one day he would grow up. He would step out on his own and start forging his own journeys. I just wasn't ready for this so soon. He held my hand as we entered the classroom, said hello to his teachers, and in an instant grew inexplicably. He found his own cubby, his own seat, then set about exploring his classroom. I am now the proud, absolutely terrified mother of a preschooler. From this day on there will be three hours Tuesday-Friday where I can't protect him. There will be other children his age, and new adults in his life. What if they are mean to him? Will he be made fun of because of his glasses? Will he find the strength in himself to say Hello and make a new friend rather than hiding behind my leg? Who will cling to my skirts as I'm trying to make lunch? Who will jump from behind the couch in an attempt to scare me? What on this earth could possibly fill the void left by merely a few hours absence of my little big man? What if he doesn't like the food? Or he gets bored and decides to act silly crazy as he so often does at home? Will he miss me while he's there? What if he likes them better than me? What if he doesn't want to come home? I so badly want to encourage him on this new path, yet I also want to snatch him up in my arms and never let go. A mothers love is unconditional. It is also very selfish. In my heart of hearts I know that he will do great. He's intelligent, witty, fearless, full of laughter and eager to explore. I can't help but worry though. Today as I shut that classroom door and forced myself to walk home I left not just a piece of my heart, but a large part of my soul. For four years he has been my every reason to breathe, to grow and to move forward. Now he's venturing onto his own path and I feel helpless as I sit back and watch my baby boy grow up. And the underlying fear behind it all: what if he decides he doesn't need me anymore?