The Empty Stroller

By the third kid, you begin to think you get used to the "firsts."

Today was our baby's first day at day care. I was so ready. The breast milk pumped and thawed, bottles prepared, spare clothes labeled. Had it all planned out: I was going to drop him off for a few hours to let him get used to being cared for by others and get me back in the routine of keeping my s--- together handling the kid stuff while staying on top of the job. After two kids, it seemed like it would be easy peasy.

So I checked him in, dropped off his stuff, kissed him goodbye and then wheeled the stroller back to the car. Then I glanced down at it. Empty. The Biggest Loser episode that we watched last night flashed in my mind - contestant Abby and the sudden car crash that killed her infant boy, daughter and husband. In those few seconds, I remembered what it was like without him in our lives before he arrived and imagined what it would be like to lose him.

Though I shook off the morbid thought quickly, I still couldn't get the sight of his empty stroller out of my mind. My baby's taking one step forward to grow up. And growing up means leaving mommy and daddy one day. Just because he's one more kid at the end of our kid train, the firsts don't mean any less. The hard firsts don't get any easier.

As for the Littlest J., he did just fine being without me for a few hours (save for the explosive bowel movement that wrecked his brand new, first day of day care outfit). And I pulled myself together too and managed a bit of an Artist's Date - more about that soon.

So we got through this first. And maybe I won't take the next one for granted.