That's what it felt like today when I picked up Lovie from daycare.
I watched her from the window as she carried a baby doll around with her. She looked so ... content. Her and a baby doll. Other kids ran around the room, some coloring, some jumping around. She held the baby doll and looked over at some kids who were looking at books.
The teachers spotted me and told her, "Look who's here" as they pointed toward the window and me.
Lovie looked at one teacher who was sitting on the floor as she pointed to me, then her eyes went to the other teacher, standing, as he pointed to me. I smiled, watching her head turn from them to me and when our eyes met, I smiled super big and goofily waved.
And my girl... my life... my everything? She dropped her gaze, pouted her lips, and let out a loud cry.
I instantly welled up and tried to hold it together.
Lovie dropped her arms to her side, let go of the baby doll, and cried harder and louder.
She had no desire for me to be there. She didn't want me picking her up. She wasn't happy to see me. At all.
My heart sank. I felt incredibly crushed. And the tears welled up some more.
"That's the fun room," the director said when I looked at her deflated. "At least you know she's having fun and likes it in there!"
Uh huh. And hates me.
Lovie finally mustered enough strength to stop crying and made her way to me. I scooped her up and loved on her regardless and by the time we got to the car in 30 seconds, she was over it all.
The next twenty minutes driving home (to the park first, of course) was spent saying Lovie's name after she angelically sang, "Mama!" Back and forth we went and my heart immediately healed and began feeling explosive again.