Next week will be better

This past week was a big test for Abby. It was her first time in the care of anyone other than my mother or me for more than just a few hours. I would love to say she passed with flying colors. I would love even more to say that she was as happy as the 7 month old baby we saw when we were touring the daycare facilities. Let's just say that I certainly hope they didn't have any tours for new parents on Wednesday or Friday since it would have done very little to allay the fears of those parents.

On Wednesday when I left Abby, she was actually fine. She sat amongst other babies staring at the mirror, waving her arms like she usually does when she's in front of the mirror. Things headed south apparently in the afternoon when the caretaker tried to make her take a nap. Eventually she worked herself up into such a frenzy she threw up all over herself and the daycare had to call me to come pick her up a little early.


Clearly, this photo was NOT taken at the daycare center...

On Friday, I put her in the farthest corner of the room from where I would stand so I could fill out paperwork in peace. I hadn't finished the page when I felt her chubby arms clinging to my leg. She had managed to crawl across the room - while crying - so that she could plead with me not to leave her here. The other baby there saw her and also started to cry. I apologized profusely to the caretakers as they took a now screaming Abby so that I could slip out of the door. An hour later, I called to find out how she was doing - apparently not crying but clinging to caretakers. By the afternoon she had taken a nap and had even managed to sit by herself for a little while and play.

Small steps, I guess.