Moms Get Separation Anxiety, Too

Smith is just now 28 months old, and I have just spent my first night away from him.

Most people were incredulous when I told them I had yet to spend a night without him. I just didn't feel we were ready. He is still so young, so attached and so mischievous that I felt that it just wasn't time—until recently. A trip to Vegas fell into our laps, and I have been told that Vegas is no place for a toddler. At first, I told my husband to go without me, as I just wasn't ready to leave Smith yet. I could tell my husband was disappointed that I didn't want to go without Smith. I did my usual "This is my final answer!" song-and-dance routine, but that night I couldn't fall asleep.  

Why was I so scared to leave my son? I could probably get my sister-in-law to watch him, but would she talk on the phone whilst Smith leapt off the roof? Would Smith cry for his Mommy at night and find that I was gone? Would he feel abandoned, alone and depressed? Would I suffer from separation anxiety and make everyone's trip awful?

People told me, "He'll be fine." I saw their lips moving, but the words coming out were like chihuahua barks. I was filled with dread. Fretting over a portentous end to my son's happiness, I kept telling myself that it wasn't going to work. What if he, God forbid, decided that I wasn't important in his life?

What if he didn't need me?  

And then I thought about my husband. I could tell he was disappointed. He had said he didn't want to go without me to Vegas; to most women, that's the equivalent of a unicorn coming up to you and asking if you wanted to swim in a chocolate lake with marshmallow waterfalls. I appreciated his patience during my "stewing" time. I appreciated the fact that he didn't judge me or make me feel like I was an overprotective freak of a mother. So, against every cell in my body, I called my sister-in-law to see if she and her fiance could possibly come and watch Smith for one night. Part of me was hoping that it wouldn't work out; part of me was hoping they could come.

They could come.  

I spent the next few weeks preparing Smith for my departure. I would throw out, "How would you like to have a sleepover with Aunt Adrian and Uncle Eli?" I would ask him if he would be okay if Mommy were gone for a whole day and night. I tried to get him attached to a stuffed animal; I am his favorite "blankie."  

He didn't take to a stuffed animal or become attached to a blanket. He didn't protest when I told him I was going to be gone at bedtime, and he didn't bat an eye when I said I wouldn't be there in the morning. Do you know why? Me neither. The end.  

But seriously, he listened to me. He knew that he was in a safe situation, and he knew that we would come back. I repeatedly told him that we were coming back and that we loved him very much. He bought it, so we were out the door with no tears or even a sad face. I did have a massive hiccup on the way to the airport when I realized that I had forgotten my cell phone at home. That meant I had to use Joe's phone every time I wanted to check in with Smith—which also meant my lifeline was severed.

Halfway through the flight and a vodka cranberry, I relaxed.

Sure, I called a few times from Vegas (10-15 times tops), but I also enjoyed spending time with a group of adults and staying up later than normal. I was able to let go and have fun with my husband without worrying about a toddler.  

The next morning, as I had predicted, I was ready to see Smith. I was sure that he was traumatized and would call me "Michelle"—not Mommy—from now one. Every time I called, he seemed completely fine. Every time I spoke to my sister-in-law or future brother-in-law, they sounded serene. Was it possible that he didn't love me anymore and thought that these people were way better parents than me and Joe?  

The flight home was filled with laughter as my husband and I deliriously tried to communicate in our hungover state. As soon as the plane started its descent, I began to try to call to say we had arrived and were on our way. As we drove down the street, we saw them all walking back from the park. Joe slowed the car, and I got out to walk home with Smith. I grabbed Smith and hugged him tight. He hugged me back,  and took off running.

I learned a lot in one night. Smith will always want me to come back and be Mommy, my husband is still my best friend, and I only like Vegas for a couple of hours.  

Hold on loosely, Redondo Beach.