I remember the day I gave birth to my firstborn very well.
After a long exhausting delivery, a baby boy was placed in my arms.
I remember feeling overwhelmed, I remember shaking from exhaustion.
But my fatigue and pain faded to the background, the moment I held him for the first time.
It wasn’t just a child that was born that day, a mother was also born and a love beyond comprehension.
Something in my mind and spirit opened up and I never saw the world the same way again.
From that moment on, I wept, whenever I saw the news.
With every casualty I realized that that was someone’s baby, someone’s child.
The irony is, that at the same time that an alertness and a desire to keep my baby close was awakened in me, a will and force to stand on his own was stirred up in him.
Yes, I had brought this little boy into the world, but he wasn’t mine. Yes, mine to hold, but for a short amount of time. He was born to walk his own course and to be his own person.
To emphasize this the cord binding us together was cut.
And thus started our walk together. His, a walk of learning to take his own steps and mine, a walk of loosening grip by grip.
“Hold my hand as you cross the street.”
“You get back here, young man!”
“Yes, you can walk ahead in front of me as long as I can see you”
“You may ride your bike, but you have to stay on the curb.”
I held him, carried him, I cheered him on.
I held his hand and accompanied him, I sometimes gave him a little push when he lacked confidence.
And on many, many occasions I held him back.
“No, don’t touch that, that’s hot.”
“No, you can’t watch that, you’re too young.”
“No, you can’t go there, that’s too far.”
And now I have to let him go beyond my grasp, beyond my sight.
A part of my job is done and my role is changing.
I can no longer hold him back.
I have to let him go yet a little further.
The other day I accidentally grabbed his hand as we were crossing the street. He quickly pulled his hand away and gave me a look fit for crazy people.
My mistake, I thought, for one moment I mistook you for the little boy you once were.
My little boy is going to high school.
Can someone please hold me now?
Do you have moments that you have trouble letting your child or children go?
This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Mirjam of the Netherlands. Mirjam also blogs at Apples and Roses.
Photo credit: kwanie. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.
Mirjam
Mirjam was born in warm, sunny Surinam, but raised in the cold, rainy Netherlands. She´s the mom of three rambunctious beauties and has been married for over two decades to the love of her life. Every day she´s challenged by combining the best and worst of two cultures at home. She used to be an elementary school teacher but is now a stay at home Mom. In her free time she loves to pick up her photo camera. Mirjam has had a life long battle with depression and is not afraid to talk about it. She enjoys being a blogger, an amateur photographer, and loves being creative in many ways. But most of all she loves live and laughter, even though sometimes she is the joke herself. You can find Mirjam (sporadically) at her blog Apples and Roses where she blogs about her battle with depression and finding beauty in the simplest of things. You can also find Mirjam on Twitter and Instagram.
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This is beautifully written Mirjam. My 7 year old gives me the same look when I take his hand to cross the street 🙂
Letting go is so hard to do, but being a good parent is knowing when to let them spread their wings. Don’t worry, they will come back. Sending hugs your way.
Thanks for the hugs. 🙂 Even though I know that good parenting means letting them spread their wings, it sure isn’t easy!
Dear Mirjam, I SO relate to what you wrote! My firstborn son turned 21 years old in January this year, and in March he chose to move to Germany (we live in South Africa)! The hardest thing I ever had to do was to tell him how much I loved him, how proud I was of him and how sure I was that he would succeed in a life far away from me, his father and his sister … when what I REALLY wanted to do was to tell him not to go! 🙁
Five months down the line the ache is still there, but I don’t let him know it. Sometimes I (selfishly) wish he’d never met that German girl … but then I remind myself that, as long as he is healthy and happy, I can’t really ask for anything else!
I cannot imagine what it must be like to see your kid move to another country! That must have been so incredibly hard. I can only hope that when my time comes to really let my kid go, that I will be as brave as you!
Time waits for no man … these days i am not a huge fan of that saying since i would love to stop time, hold them close and not let go 😉
Oh, how I wish to be in control of that remote. Right now I want to rewind, hold my two year toddler son for a little while before I go back to the present.
I am really struggling with this right now Mirjam. I know I say this at every stage, but could THIS be the hardest part of parenting? The letting go!
This IS the hardest part, Elizabeth! (Hugs)
( I may or may not say the same thing at every stage of parenting too..)
Mirjam, here is a hug for you!! 🙂 My daughter is 12, going on 13 this year. I have to remind myself so often that she isn’t 7 anymore (or younger). That she is capable of so much more than I have let her do on her own, out of fear that she’d get hurt. But, here we are… almost in the teenage years.
Good luck to all of us, in letting go of the babe in our children 🙂
Thank you for the hug! Isn’t it such a weird fragile stage? I constantly have to remind myself how big my kid is, yet sometimes I see that he is still just a good. Good luck to all of us indeed.
High School! So exciting. Mirjam, I know you are going to rock this, no doubt, especially after meeting you!!!
It is exciting and super scary at the same time! And he is younger then most of the kids in his class. But I just know that he will have a great time in high school and that makes it so much easier! Thanks for the faith in me. 🙂