On Adam's First Day in School

It is comparable to the fact that some part of you is taken away forever. Three years ago, he was just a mere small 9 pounder in my loving arms, so helpless, so vulnerable. He made me feel important. I was his protector, his shield from all outside harm a newborn would encounter. He was completely dependent on me, and that made me feel very important. Last week, on his first day of school, he looked entirely different. He was grown up, ready to let go of his motherly dependence, wanting to conquer his not-so-small-world-at-all alone.
He started his day early at 7am when he was awakened by my husband in time for his morning shower and dress up for school. He wore a bright orange biker shirt, a pair of short pants and the Thomas the Engine sneakers he personally picked up when we shopped for his shoes. He was a very excited boy. It was his first day of school, the moment he has been talking and thinking about since he turned 3 earlier this year. "I am going to school, Mama!", he would excitingly blurt out every now and then, but most of the time right after he goes to the potty. He has been always reminded by us that once he perfects his toilet training, then he could go to school. He always had this gleaming look in his eyes every time we had a discussion connecting his potty training with going to school.
Arriving from night shift work around 810am, I saw him all ready. He has had eaten breakfast and was sitting on our living room couch patiently waiting for me to drive him to school. I felt enervated despite the 12 hours of shift work the night before. I took a quick shower to drive away any sleepy and tired feeling I normally feel after a full shift work. That did the trick. Adam was not the only one who was excited. His mom was too!
He was tightly holding my hand as we headed in the school's lobby waiting for his preschool teacher to come. There were several other boys and a couple of girls with either their mom or dad who were also waiting. As he was clinging to my one leg and holding my hand tight, I went down on his eye level and told him with a great overprotective maternal tone voice that no matter what happens in the next 2 hours, I will be here on the lobby when he comes out from class. He had this small sense of fearful look in his eyes, but I felt that he was all effort into being the brave boy that he can be. I waved goodbye to him as the teacher walked him with the rest of the kids to their classroom. It was around a 2 minute walk. I felt very ambivalent. It was heartbreaking for me seeing him walk away from me and he didn't even look back! I felt that something was taken away from me, forever. I have dreaded for this to come but I can not turn back the clock. It's hard to let go, but I have to. Even though a part of me got killed, I forced myself to be cheerful, for this is my boy's new beginning for a new phase in his life. I walked away and went home with water hazing around my eyes and fogging my sight.