Loss

We let our nanny go yesterday. It's become evident that as Greyson gets older, he will need more stimulation in the linguistic department than she can provide. Her Mandarin is limited if not plain inaccurate and we've realized for a while that she cannot be a long-term solution for Greyson. She was gracious and understanding, and much to my surprise, after the initial relief wore off, I was left with was an overwhelming sense of loss and profound sadness.

It has been a bittersweet relationship with her and it's almost hilarious that I'm feeling this emotional about losing her considering I've spent most of the time she's been with us being annoyed with her. She was crass, unprofessional, overly familiar, and nosy. She's criticized my hair, my clothes, my grocery-purchasing skills. She complained all the time; we had too many stairs leading up to our apartment, our knives were too weird, our soap left too much residue in the shower, my breast pump was too clumsy. I'd spend the hour before she arrived preparing my exit strategy so that I could limit our interaction as much as possible. Still, there were moments when she nagged me like a mom, made my favorite dishes on request, practically force- fed me her lunch, vacuumed when I didn't ask her to, bought me cheesy hair clips and loved on Greyson. For some reason, those are the only moments I can remember right now.

Today I brought Greyson over to her place to give her a red packet and say goodbye. She met me downstairs in her pajamas, immediately got my diaper bag and warmly welcomed me to her home. I'd never been there before. She seemed excited to have us over, fussing over us like we were special guests. Her brother's family was there and they sat with us in their pajamas, chatting, asking me questions about Singapore as cartoons played on tv in the background. When she found out I hadn't had lunch, she made me toast and apple juice. She proudly showed me photos of her daughter. She peeled and fed Greyson a peach, grabbed trash from my hands as I ate, washed out Greyson's spoon and bowl. Then as I was putting on my jacket to leave, she opened a can of macadamia nuts and poured some into my open palm. I was overwhelmed by the kindness and generousity showered on us. I thought I was there to deliver severance to my ex-nanny, and instead I found myself in my grandmother's house. In that spartan living room, released from our sequestered corners of "employer and employee", we were suddenly free to be friends. All her previous inappropriateness suddenly just seemed human to me. When I left, she walked me down to my car. I gave her a red packet and thanked her, we both started crying. As I backed out of her driveway, she ran around my car to the driver's window and told me with tears to call her whenever I needed anything, that we would always be friends. I will never forget the sight of her in her pj's, standing on the sidewalk waving as I drove away. I sobbed all the way home.

It's such a peculiar connection that you build with your nanny; this person walks into your life as a stranger, then leaves as the only person in the world, other than your husband and you, who knows the ins and outs of your child. During the week, she's my trusted partner. Suddenly, I feel terrifyingly alone. Whoever we hire next seems distant and strange. No matter who replaces her, it will be months before I feel complete peace when I leave Greyson with that person. I know we did the right thing for Grey Grey, but I mourn the loss of a relationship I unknowingly invested so much in.