Dear Ms. H,

On Friday, you will be given my baby for her first day of Kindergarten. No, she is not my oldest, nor is she my youngest, but she is still my baby. I am very distraught, and yet very hopeful about her new venture into full-time school.

See, she’s different. She didn’t walk until she was 21 months old. My youngest is now that age and has been walking for 9 months. But my baby, she let me carry her for a long time. She scooted on the floor instead of even attempting to walk or stand. She is cautious. So careful. I think that’s why she held off on walking. She wanted to be sure that from the first step, she wouldn’t fall. And she didn’t.

She may or may not have started talking when she “should have” either. I honestly can’t remember, because I’ve always just understood her and her needs. If she was hungry, I knew. Believe me, I’m not saying I’m a perfect parent. Far from it. I couldn’t tell you right now what my 21-month old wants. Mostly she tells me “no” when I ask if she wants something. If she really doesn’t want it, she’ll shriek “NOOOOO!” at you. So with her, it’s a crapshoot.

Not with my kindergartener.  Sure, she had her toddler moments. But they have disappeared into a haze of memory that has sanded off the rough edges of tempers and tantrums and left me with a lot more sunshine and rainbows than actually happened.

Her entrance into preschool was surprisingly easy. Sure, I still cried. But I was 8 months pregnant with my fourth, and more interested in not developing reflux that day than having an emotional breakdown.

She made friends, one of them I pegged as the first friend who will break my baby’s heart. The kind of girl that is too cool for most, and I still recall the pumpkin patch field trip when my girl ended up on a different tractor ride than that friend.  It was the moment. But she survived, and they still were “best friends” in school. She still talked about that friend up until a few weeks ago, when I think her haze of memory is only concerned with the new kindergarten friends she’s made this summer.

She may not be a leader, but she knows how to be the boss. She has an uncanny ability to get her older sister and brother to do almost anything for her, even things she’s more than capable to do herself. Shit, she still has this ability with me. She’s my baby. I want to do for her. But I do want her to do for herself as well.

Please don’t let her tell you that she “can’t”. She can, she should, and eventually, she will. She scares easily. Just last night she fell asleep in the crook of my husband’ arm with her ears plugged by her little index fingers because she was frightened by a loud thunderstorm.

She just learned to swim this summer. She screamed through at least her first week of private lessons. Then only through half of the lessons the second through fourth weeks. Then only when she was faced with something terrifying – swimming in a depth where she couldn’t touch bottom. She screamed for me at those times. I had to give her my reassurance that she was fine, she could do it, it was okay to be scared, but it wasn’t okay not to try, and in my head I admittedly was pleading with her to stop *(%&#)@ screaming and just do it.

She never really did stop crying altogether for her instructor, but about a week later, after her instructor went back to college for the fall, she asked me to stand in the deep part where she couldn’t touch. She WANTED to jump in and swim. And she did. Happily. And then she did it again. And again. She’s swimming. Maybe it was her new fascination with Katie Ledecky and  Olympic Swimming. Maybe it was her patient but firm swim instructor who didn’t give up. Or her brother and sister who kicked ass their first summer on swim team. But I know the real reason.

It was her. It finally clicked in her brain that she could do it, and do it well. She had to know for herself that she wouldn’t drown, and once she did, it’s as if the timid swimmer never existed.

I know you’ll be testing her in math and reading and she’ll be getting mixed up in a classroom full of students and you won’t really get to know her the way I do, but know that she’s one amazing person, who – eventually – will know who she is, where she fits in and what she is capable of. And no one will be able to convince her of her abilities until she masters them for herself.

Take care of my baby.