Every Sunday for the past couple of months, we’ve been sending Athalie to Sunday school right after worship. As my wife is heavily pregnant now, I have been the one bringing her to the back, sitting together with her initially and then standing behind while she independently does her work interjecting only occasionally. The main idea of it all was that in the near future, she’ll be able to sit all by herself without me being there and she being ok with it. To slowly achieve this, I have been occasionally disappearing from the back and usually within 5 min, she would come looking for me. The very first time I disappeared, she was absolutely ok and when thru the entire class without me in it at all. We were so happy then at how independent she became so quickly. However, the second time around when I disappeared, she cried. Then after telling her where I would always be, she would just whine and walk to where I was “hiding” and ask me to go back and stand at the back (so she could always see me). So that was the usual routine every Sunday at her Sunday school class.
This fine Sunday however, for some reason, the Sunday school teacher decided that it was high time the parents all disappeared, NEVER to return until the class is over (EVEN IF YOUR KID CRIES). She first suggested it to the parents to leave, however some were still mingling, not willing to depart from their kid. I very nervously decided that it was time for Athalie to be independent and bravely I told the teacher, I’m leaving and if anything, I’ll be outside. Me- the Brave and Mighty Dad. Afterall, I’ve been the biggest proponent of letting kids cry and not giving in. Slowly I creeped out, Athalie didn’t know I disappeared then.
5 minutes after, to my horror, wailings were heard from within the class. The teacher had actually shooed all the parents out and as I stood outside the door, I could see the parents streaming out amidst the cries and wails and there Athalie was, in the teacher’s arm crying her heart out for me… “I want Daddy!!! I want Daddy!!! I want Daddy!!!” The teacher shut the door. My heart stopped.
Disoriented. Guilty. My heart just dropped at the sight of her crying and me not being able to soothe her. While the other parents left, I stood by the door, hoping to get a glimpse of her being ok. But all I heard was more wailing and crying from the room and I was so darn sure I heard Athalie still crying her heart out for me but yet I couldn’t see her. I could only hear her wails and cries. I tried looking for another way to get a glimpse of her but to no avail.
What have I done!!?!? What if she cries herself crazy??!?!?? What if this leads to more insecurity and she becomes super attached/dependent on us after this?!?!?? What if she hates me after this??!?! WWWWHHHAAATTTT IIIIFFFFFFFF……?!?!?!?!?!
As I stood outside, a friend of mine who had to bring his kid out cause he was underage for the trauma was outside with me as well. Unable to quell my uneasiness and my disorientation, I asked him for a favor – “BC, could you go into the room and see if Athalie is ok”. He said sure. He went in, and as I anxiously waited for him to let me know her status, he told me this, “There’s too many kids crying inside. I couldn’t see Athalie”…. …. …. I was like WTH!!! There’s not a lot of kids in there and all I asked was for you to look for Athalie and see how she was!!!!! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhh….!!!! My heart remained as restless and disoriented as it was.
While all the parents had gone back to the main sanctuary to listen to the sermon, I just couldn’t bring myself to sit out there, so far away from Athalie. I wanted to grab her and hug her the moment she stepped out of the class to tell her how sorry I was for leaving her there. So I sat in some place in between the main sanctuary and the Sunday school area.
The teacher emerged from the class carrying a boy who couldn’t stop wailing back to the mother. She saw me sitting at the “in-between” and told me, “Go sit in the sanctuary. Don’t worry about your daughter. She’s ok”. She told me this 3 times and my reply was always, “It’s ok”. I remained sitted where I was. I wasn’t going to budge. I will be the first thing my daughter sees when she’s done. She went back to her class.
I sneaked back to the door just so I could hear if Athalie was still crying. There were still wailing kids inside but I couldn’t make out Athalie’s voice anymore. But hopping and squinting through the door, I couldn’t see Athalie and hence couldn’t be sure of her exact condition.
My wife, suddenly pop in the area and she told me that it was already the sermon’s last slide. I totally forgot I was on bass duty that week and I had to go back to the main sanctuary to play the closing song. I told her what had happened and she was like as cool as a cucumber. No disorientation. No worry. Nothing. I had now become the crazy, clinging, disoriented father who had detachment issue with my daughter. She was the matured mother.
Went back on stage to play the last song. I could hardly focus as all there was in my mind was going back to the back to get my daughter (of course I played a couple of wrong chords). After the last song, I became even more anxious to sprint all the way to the back to see her but had to stay on a couple more of minutes to play what I would call a “disbursing song” where we just played the chorus of the song, while the crowd gets up and exits. Right when it ended, put my bass down and walked as quickly as I could to the back.
There she was, with slightly puffy eyes, and the first word she uttered, “I cried today in Sunday school”. How my heart dropped at the ordeal that she had to go through. Instead of letting her walk by herself (I’ve always asked her walked whenever she wanted to be carried), I told her, “You want Daddy to carry?” and she was non-chalant about my request. Too traumatized or just too distracted with the array of toys she had in her hand, I do not know.
So there it was, me the bravest, the loudest of them all and the biggest proponent of letting children cry to help them to the next level put to the test. In real life situation. ULTIMATE FAIL.
No comments:
Post a Comment