Lucy has marched to the beat of her own drum since the start. Even at a young age, if there was something Lucy didn’t want to do, she was not shy about communicating that to us. 

As an infant, if she didn’t want to be held by someone, she let them know. She was often held by either me or her Dad in the early months.

Lucy was accustomed to large gatherings because of family parties. She was born October 24th, got home on October 29th, and went to a Halloween party on October 31st. She attended 5 parties in her first month of life.

I was confident that Lucy would naturally learn to be comfortable with a lot of people around and enjoy going to outings. I assumed that because I like to do those things and she’s my daughter so she will like it too. It’s funny how when we first have children, we make the assumption that they are an extension of us. But, from their very first days, they are their own person. 

When the pandemic hit, Lucy was 1 and a half. She was still young enough that she enjoyed the simple life and didn’t know how to ask for more. But it was such an impressionable age. I know she internalized the confusion and fear that I felt. I was 7 months pregnant with Zachary at that time. I remember how nuts I felt and I am 100% sure Lucy saw it and sensed something was off. 

When we started going to my mom’s house and seeing her cousins again, Lucy was afraid. There were days when she would sit in the corner of my Mom’s dining room and scream. She would flat out scream and cry like she was being harmed. Nobody could touch her. There was no consoling her until I took her out of the situation.

My first assumption was, this must be a side effect of the stroke she had at birth. To me, every little thing that I deemed “different” went back to her stroke. In retrospect, I’m angry at myself for being ashamed or embarrassed by her, but I was. I wanted her to be like her cousins. I wanted her to be relaxed and have fun. There had to be something going on inside of her that didn’t allow her to be herself. She would be fine if it was just me and my Mom, but once more people came in, she’d freak.

There were times when I didn’t go to things because I didn’t have the energy to deal with outbursts. We were seeing people she knew. Why would she act like this?

My Mom would encourage me to keep bringing her out. Keep taking her to things even though it could be hard. She reassured me it was a phase. Children all develop differently. She urged me to not compare her to anyone else. Each child is unique and handles and internalizes situations differently. And, as always, my Mom was right.

Here we are now, September 2023. Lucy has been in school for a few weeks and she loves it. I had been agonizing over her first day of school for a couple years. I’ve been so worried about her not wanting go or screaming and crying. And, selfishly, I agonized over how hard it would be for me. Maybe I’ve kept her close so long because of my own feelings.

We could have started her last year, but I felt she wasn’t ready. And the truth is, I wasn’t ready. Lucy starting school meant a whole new beginning for the whole family. We would be leveling up. The simple days would be behind us.

Since Peter was only just born at the end of June, we decided keeping Lucy home one more year would work out for us all. I wanted her to have the time to get to know Peter the way she got to know Zachary as a baby.

While it was a chaotic year with 3 kids aged 4 and under with me 24/7(as I detail in One Year with 3 Kids)… and maybe minus 6-7 hours of sleep and the 30 minutes Lucy spent in art class once a week, I’m happy we did it. I kept this thought in the forefront of my mind, “they’ll never have this time in their life again. And I’ll never have time like this with them again in my life.” Knowing this and living it helped me through the days when everyone was screaming or sick or just agitated because they’re babies.

Lucy had an art class once a week for the year last year. 30minutes every Monday. The first 3 classes, she kept her eyes closed. She never cried, she never threw a tantrum, she just simply did not participate. After the fourth class, she came out saying she painted! By the last class in May, the teacher told me how proud all of them were of Lucy. Her personality blossomed. After seeing her conquer art class, I knew real school wouldn’t be so bad. It hurt me to see her afraid, but I felt so proud of her for walking in there every week. That was hard for her and she did it. She recognized how brave she was. She would say to me, “Mommy, today I was brave. Today I kept my eyes open and I painted.” 

Lucy has been saying for months that she was excited about school, but I was interested to see how she would actually react to the real thing. I had some confidence knowing how well she adjusted to art class, but I was worried the first few days would be rough.

Her first Monday morning was smooth. She woke up happy. She ate all of her breakfast and willingly brushed her teeth and hair. We all went together, our family of five.

When we walked her into the classroom, little Zach was pouting. He was not happy that Lucy would be leaving us. Big Zach and I hugged her tight and told her to have a good day and that we loved her. We each had tears in our eyes. We stood there, not knowing what to do. But our Lucy girl, she knew what to do. 

“Okay, Mommy and Daddy. Buh bye now.” She waved to us.

We turned to find Zachary on the floor. Lucy bent down to him and whispered, “Zachary, it’s time to go. You have to go.” 

Lucy was telling us all to let her go and none of us were ready. But Lucy, Lucy was ready. 

She walked up to the teacher.

“And what is your name?” The teacher said.

With her head held high, our brave girl said, “Hi, my name is Lucy.”