My baby girl is almost 5 months old now.
We weren’t planning to put her in daycare just yet, mostly because of the cost. I’ve been working part-time in the mornings, and my husband works nights, so we figured we could make it work for a while. I thought daycare might be something we could consider if I found a higher-paying, full-time job.
Also, she’s still pretty little. (Even though had I not quit my job in December, I would have had to put her in daycare as early as 6 weeks.)
But then I sent an email to a daycare on a whim. My husband had been struggling with the accumulated lack of sleep and starting to make silly mistakes at work, and I was starting to feel hectic and rundown too.
This particular daycare only takes four babies in the infant room. By chance, I emailed right when they had an unexpected opening, and I happened to be the first person in line.
I thought we should give it a try. I hoped that if I could make some extra money during the afternoons, then maybe somehow things would work out.
I also secretly hoped to get some exercise and alone time in. (As a neurodivergent person, that alone time literally restores my ability to function. I don’t know how else to say it.)
But of course, first I had to see how she would do.
I was nervous. My husband was too. I was in daycare as a baby, along with my siblings, and I think we turned out fine. (And if you’re reading this blog and thinking “you’re not fine”, well, my siblings are much more successful adults than I am, and they were in daycare too.)
Still, I read many opinions online about the “best” age to start daycare (apparently after the age of one), and I was really apprehensive about leaving my daughter with strangers.
What reassured me was the fact that this daycare only takes four babies, even though they’re licensed and could easily take more for profit. The owner’s toddler son is in the toddler room, and the infant room teacher has a young child of her own. Everything looked clean and organized. On the day I visited, I didn’t hear any crying from any of the babies or toddlers. They were all just happily playing or napping.
On her first day, my husband and I brought Ellie in late. We were procrastinating. The teacher reminded us we’d need to be on time moving forward. Whoops. First day, and the parents are already in trouble.
The teacher said hello to the baby, and my daughter stared at her for a few minutes before grinning. And that was that.
I spent the rest of the day glued to the daycare app, refreshing constantly for updates. Every photo showed my baby girl smiling. When I picked her up at the end of the day, she was still smiling: happy, alert, content.
I think she liked it. The environment was fun and stimulating. I think now that she’s getting older and more aware, it’s boring to be home with mama and papa, who are always tired.
So, we got through the first hurdle: the first week. And she did great.
I felt a sense of relief. My husband, bless his heart, sent me a text saying “this is a new chapter, things are going to get better now!”
I love him for his optimism, but it drives me nuts when he makes such declarations. In my crazy brain, he’s tempting fate and inviting trouble. At the very least, he’s counting chickens that haven’t hatched.
And here we are, week two. Guess where my daughter isn’t?
At daycare.
Because she’s sick.
We’re all sick.
Which means I’m not working, so not only do we have a daycare bill, but I’m also not bringing in my regular income, let alone any extra.
Preparing to leave your baby with strangers is hard.
But once you get past that, don’t forget to mentally (and financially?) prepare yourself for the fact that your child will get sick at daycare, and everyone in your home will probably catch it too.
