As parents separation anxiety is something we will all have to face at one time or another. We have all seen it. The look of steely determination on a Mother’s face as she attempts to escape the confines of the nursery corridor with a red-faced screaming toddler wrapped so tightly around her leg he may well have cut off the blood supply to her foot.
The screams of “Noooooooooo Mummy don’t gooooooooooooo” echoing across the playground accompanied by heart-wrenching, soul-destroying wails.
Well today was my turn.
Except the boy was fine. He waved me out the door.
The separation anxiety is mine. All mine.
My boy is seventeen months now and up until today I have only ever been apart from him for one night when work commitments could not be avoided. He was nine months old. That night I woke up at 3am with the most gut-wrenching, frantic fear that I had left him somewhere but just couldn’t remember where. When my heart-rate eventually slowed, and I remembered where I was, I spent the next hour in tears before eventually falling back to sleep.
I am currently on the train, on my way to London for tomorrow’s Cybher conference.
And I am really trying not to cry.
I will be only be away from him for two nights, the conference will be fab, I will get to see loads of friends, some old and some new, and I know the boy will have a great time with his grandparents.
But I miss him already.
I only left an hour ago.
Will this always happen when I leave him?
Even when he’s twenty?
And what about when he is big enough to leave me?