New Mummy Blog: Why I'm Sending My Son To Nursery

When I had to choose child care for baby number one at 11 months old, I felt like I was performing the ultimate betrayal. How could I be handing her over into someone else’s arms, hardly bearing to give her tear-stained face a backward glance as I half-ran out the door to catch my train?

I was consumed by guilt and worry, my insecurities about returning to the workplace overshadowed entirely by my fears around what was about to happen for her.

For how could anyone look after her as well as her mother? How would they keep their patience when she strained and struggled against a nappy change, refused a nap or threw yoghurt at the wall; all of which can test a mother’s love, never mind a paid carer.

And on the flip side, what if she ends up loving them more than me? I was returning to work full time and therefore she would spend far more of her waking week with them than she would with me. Would they replace me in her eyes?

Or would she feel abandoned? How could I explain to her the missed bedtimes, the stories not read, when my train home was cancelled and I didn’t get home in time?

Like so many before me and so many since, I struggled under the oppressive and unbearable weight of Mum Guilt, that extra emotion that is unlocked when you give birth.

[Copyright: Yahoo/Claire Sparks]

Long story short, it was completely, utterly unfounded. It turned out she loved it. But she was still over the moon when I walked back through the door to pick her up. I hadn’t been replaced, no matter how wonderful, patient and caring Becca, Sarah, Harriet, Leanne, all were.

And now, a little over two years later, she adores it still and she adores them. She bounds out of bed on nursery mornings, which are three days a week, eager to show Leanne her latest bruise or Harriet her new dress.

And every morning at drop off and every evening at pick up, when I have to drag the fed up 17-month-old in and out the car with me as we ferry his sister to and fro, he is desperate to join in.

[Copyright: Yahoo/Claire Sparks]

But I have to drag him away. Kicking and screaming sometimes. Often. Because he can see it’s a whole world of fun, and as hard as I try to fill his days with fun, educational, worthwhile, exciting activities, sometimes CBeebies just has to do.

But because I don’t have the same pressure time-wise in terms of a return to work this time, it always felt that I couldn’t possibly send him to nursery too. After all, I would never have sent my daughter so young, if I’d had a choice.

But now I’ve changed my mind. He starts next week, two days a week.

Although I am certain it’s the right thing for him and he’s so desperate to join in, I still find myself making excuses because I’m still faced with judgement. It’s that Mum Guilt thing again. Don’t you think he’s a bit young? Don’t you think it’s unnecessary? What are you going to do all day?

But it’s not about me. It’s about him. And I can’t wait for him to get the same stimulation, education, peer to peer interaction, independence, and friendships as his big sister.

I wish I hadn’t worried so much first time round. I wish I’d known how much she was going to love it, how much she has thrived. But the benefit of hindsight is that at least I know he will.

But will he believe me when I walk out the door on day one and he realises he’s staying behind? That remains to be seen…