These days, my heart feels like it lives in two places — with me, and at Hithesh’s hoikuen.
Monday morning of each week is the same feeling. He cries when I leave, his eyes searching for me, like a scanner, his voice calling out in a way only a mother can truly understand. I walk away pretending to be strong, but inside I am breaking a little. I wonder if he feels scared, if he thinks I won’t come back, if he feels alone in a room full of new faces, a different language.
After I came home, he was not there, but I could faintly hear his voice. I knew it was just my mind, but once or twice in the first few days, I even went into the room and searched.
At hoikuen, he doesn’t eat much. The food is new, the place is unfamiliar, and maybe my arms are the only place where he truly feels safe. I got the note from sensei that mentioned he sometimes sleeps and feels ok when he goes outside, my cute apple pie! Maybe it’s his way of escaping the noise, the change, the emotions he doesn’t yet know how to express.
From next week, he will stay one hour longer. Just one hour, but to me it feels huge. Another hour of missing him. Hours of hoping he’s okay. Another hour of learning to let go, slowly.
I keep reminding myself that this is not forever. One day, he will run into hoikuen with a smile. As well, he will eat without me there. One day, he will tell me about his friends, his teachers, his little world that exists beyond me. I know, but till I became a mom, I never understood the weight of this bond. Motherhood is lovely, but a tough bond after all!
But today, he still needs me. And I still need him. This phase is painful, but it is also proof of how deeply we are connected. We are both learning — him, how to be independent; me, how to love without holding too tightly.
This is motherhood: loving someone so much that even their growing feels like loss, even when it is actually growth. 🤍
I will write more in the future, his Hoikuen days are so precious for me, because we are learning!
