The First Cut is the Deepest

You know that expression. The first cut is the deepest. And probably the most painful, too. For some reason, today the tears won't stop. This morning I dropped Keelie off for her first day in the ASSERT preschool program. And while I know she is in the absolute best hands, being cared for by a group of highly trained professionals, it doesn't stop the panic in me.

I imagine her sitting at lunch without me. Someone else will open her lunch bag and prepare her sandwich. Someone else will put the straw in her juice box. Someone else will change her diaper after lunch (unfortunately the potty training this summer didn't go as well as I would have hoped). Someone else will soothe the tears of her frustration, reward her good behavior, reprimand her inappropriate outbursts.

While this is a trial that all parents must face, for the parent of a child with a disability, the pain is ten fold. How I want to protect her, shield her from the world. She is my flightless bird and I wish only to keep her safely nestled in the hollow of my hand. But I know I cannot keep her caged within the safe confines of my heart and home. I must release her little by little. But this one, this first cut, it's the deepest.