I cried...AGAIN

Each time Bubba or Baby begin something new, I am nervous. It is the kind of nervous you feel just before you step on the biggest roller coaster of all time... butterflies are fluttering in the pit of your stomach, adrenaline is beginning to rush, and a tiny part of you is just a little scared. This is not the same feeling I had today, however, when Bubba began PPCD.
Last night I tossed and turned. I kept waking up thinking of how Bubba might handle each new situation. By the time I got up this morning I was virtually in tears. For some reason, I was afraid for him. I was genuinely worried about him. Part of me was trying to talk myself out of taking him, but the other half was forcing me to go. I think my fear subconsciously started when I visited his classroom a few weeks earlier.
The room looked as if there had been a nuclear color and toy attack contained within the four classroom walls. My senses were overwhelmed with bright reds, blues, and yellows, and everywhere I looked I saw toys seeping out of every crevice. There were more pocket charts than I could count and more bulletin boards than I cared to look at. There was no restroom in the classroom and it was the most cluttered place I have ever seen. This was a far cry from his perfect little Daffodils room, so the anxiety slowly began.
Bubba likes order and routine. He doesn't tell authority figures he needs to use the restroom; he just goes. The color is too overstimulating for him, and he will be easily distracted. He isn't good with waiting his turn or eating snack quickly. He is Hispanic and might get confused with the ESL students. These were the thoughts racing through my head this morning, and, when I couldn't take it anymore, I sat down and wrote his teacher an email:

" Hi! As you know, Bubba will be joining you today, and I just wanted to share a few things about him (things you will most likely find out anyway).
1. He is completely potty trained but will be wearing a pull up today. It takes him weeks to actually ask to use the potty, and, until then, he would rather have an accident than ask.
2. In new situations, he has to be reminded to use his words. He can communicate very effectively but needs cuing.
3. He is the slowest eater on the planet.
4. He is very dramatic. He has a VERY high pain tolerance, but if he notices a reaction, he will milk it for all it's worth.
5. Lambie is his security blanket. He takes him everywhere. If he needs to be tucked away, I would suggest telling him you don't want the other kids to get him or have him place it inside his shirt (sounds weird but it works)
6. He is very into "modes of transportation" (cars, trucks, etc).
7. He is very easily distracted.
As you can tell, I'm a little nervous about today. The teacher side of me understands, but the mom side of me doesn't want him to go! I know you will take good care of him. If you need anything please email or call at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Also, Joy (name changed for privacy but named Joy because her radiant smile and buoyant laughter always bring me joy) teaches 3rd grade and is a good family friend (if you need anything)."
On the ride to school I began to tell Bubba how wonderfully fun his new school would be and how many new friends he would meet (not the smartest route to go but I was trying). Once we arrived I checked in the office to see where to go...the lunchroom. Surely these babies were not going to have to line up and wait for their teacher to come and get them (the teacher in me already knew the answer). I took Bubba to sit in the back of his class line and wait for his teacher to arrive. He immediately formed his little fists that were so familiar as an infant, a sure sign he was in distress. I tried to make friends with the little girl in front of him, but neither party was to interested so I gave up. Baby also tried making friends, but to no avail. Just when I began to freak out about the "big" kids being in the lunchroom with my 3-year-old, his teachers arrived.
I tried making eye contact, but they ignored me. I obviously stick out above rest of the crowd seated on the lunchroom floor, so that was a point deduction for them. They were not starting on a positive note with me this morning. When it looked as if I was going to have to make the first move, I stood, kissed Bubba on the forehead and told him goodbye. I stopped to let the teachers know that he was, indeed, part of their snake-like line (as if they didn't know) and turned to steal one last glimpse of him. Just as I did, he began to scream, and I panicked. I quickly began to calculate the distance from him to the door. Did I have the time and strength to jerk up Bubba and Baby and bolt out the door? Could I make it to the car, strap both children in, and screech out of the parking lot before someone caught me?
Instead, I took a deep breath, grabbed Baby's hand and walked as fast as my legs could carry me. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, but I had to make it to the car. Baby gave some resistance, but there was no time. If I hesitated any longer I was going to break down in the front of the elementary school, so I scooped her up and ran to the car. When I was certain we were both safe inside, I let it go. What had I just done? I just left my child in a situation that even I did not feel comfortable in. I tried to convince myself that it was for his own good.
I spoke with Evander on the phone shortly after dropping him off, and he made me feel a little better (how he understood what I said through the sobs, I don't know). Then, my good friend Joy sent me two emails after checking in on him. She provided me detailed accounts of Bubba (Lambie tucked safely inside his shirt) interacting with the other children. She may never know how important those emails were for me, but I may not have made it through the 3 hours without them.
I picked him up 3 hours later, only to find that he was unharmed, clean, and in a relatively good mood. I know PPCD is good for him, but I also know that he is only 3. He is a 3-year-old in an elementary school. Through all that we have been through, I have never felt so awful in my life as I did today, walking away from him as he screamed for me.