After months of agonising about when Freya should start nursery, I decided to take the plunge and put her on the waiting list, which, I had been assured was at least two years long. 



However, literally 45 minutes after dropping off the registration form at the nursery, I got a telephone call from the manager telling me that a child in the under twos section had dropped out that very morning and there was a place available for Freya, one morning a week, starting in three days’ time. 



After a THREE hour consultation with Joe, with me mainly shouting and being irrational and tearful and telling him that it was all his fault, I phoned the manager back and sulkily agreed to let Freya start that Friday. “What does Freya need to bring with her?” I asked. “Nappies, wipes, spare clothes, drink etc” she replied. ‘Nappies?’ I said under my breath – this means someone other than Joe or me is going to be changing Freya’s nappy. I couldn’t handle this. What if they don’t do it with the same care and attention that I do? When I mentioned this worry to my lovely friend Emily she said: “to be perfectly honest they will probably do it a damn sight quicker and better than you ever have”. 



The day before she was due to start, I was fussing around all day, driving poor Freya nuts. I gave her an intensive feeding-herself-with-a-spoon lesson, and a talking lesson. I gave her a haircut, bought her some new hair clips, cut her nails, scrubbed her neck, laid out the clothes she was going to wear, and packed her little bag with items to cover all weather eventualities – snow suits, rain coats, sun hats, sun cream, t-shirts etc. I didn’t want those nursery workers to get me for negligence or bad-mothering on any count. 



Nursery morning arrived. Freya was in a particularly good mood, I felt awful and guilty, and sick to the core. Little did she know what I was about to do to her – abandon her with strangers for three whole hours, whilst her horrible, selfish mum put her feet up for the morning, ate Jaffa Cakes, and read Heat magazine. 



When we arrived at the nursery, Freya was off like a shot, without so much as a glance backwards. They usually recommend that the parent stays with the child for at least the first half hour to settle them in, before leaving. However, I was just standing around like a billy-no-mates,twiddling my thumbs and feeling awkward, whilst Freya was happily flirting with/terrorising the little boys. After five minutes of this, I decided to hedge my bets and leave. As I walked towards the door, Freya glanced up at me for a token millisecond before resuming her tea party with one of the boys. 



I came home and just did not know what to do with myself without a little Freya in tow. I felt pathetic and lost. I wondered if she was missing me as much as I was missing her. After two hours of skulking round the house I decided I couldn’t wait another whole hour before picking Freya up, so I went to collect her. 



When I arrived at the nursery, Freya was outside with all the other children having a whale of a time. The nursery nurse said "look Freya, your mummy is here". She looked up at me with slightly raised eyebrows, sighed and then looked away. I was wounded, but tried to be brave. I picked Freya up to cuddle her and she squirmed and squealed, and demanded to be put down. In the end, the only way I could get her to leave the nursery was by saying “come on my darling, let’s get in the car, and go home and see daddy”. With that, she was off towards the door like a shot. 



After I managed to get over the whole trauma of leaving my baby with strangers and then being snubbed by her, I felt so immensely proud of Freya – she is a very brave and confident little girl – I only wish I could say she gets it from me.