In some ways, when we first become mothers, we think that the story will eventually end. That the moment they hit 18, and leave home, it’s over. I hit that milestone in June, and today I’m watching my child leave home.
I woke up at 5 AM unable to quiet my mind thinking of all the possible scenarios that will play out as she makes her way across state lines to a new adventure. As I lay in the dark thinking about her, and all that we’ve been through, and of course playing out my worst fears because that’s what I do, I had the thought:
The greatest gift is to watch your child leave you.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m gutted and devastated. I’ve randomly burst into tears at the thought of her being out on her own doing adult things that maybe she’s not really ready for, but she has to try.
I see her as the little toddler who slept in until 9 AM while I tried to stay busy waiting for her to wake up so we could go do errands, or make our way to the library story time. I wonder if she’ll be able to make it to that morning class on time without me waking her up at least twice. She’s never been one to love mornings.
I see her as the elementary kid trying to do everything so perfectly, as first-born girls tend to do, and wonder if that perfectionism will be hard as she fails her first class in college. She used to get worried when she got B’s.
To me, she’ll always be that kid who was more quiet, often overlooked by friends and teachers, and sad that her junior year in high school, she felt like she didn’t have any friends.
Yesterday, I just watched her go on a “last trip” with a big group of friends she’s had since elementary school. She has so many friends now, that I miss her.
She hugged them all goodbye yesterday one last time as they all are going their separate ways this week to different colleges. I got to watch those bonds be built over years and years. What a gift that was.
I’ve been there for all of it, and I’m honored. But, the truth is, I’m still here watching.
Looking back on that little girl she once was who loved princesses and all things girly morph into a confident young adult who has reminded ME on more than one occasion that it doesn’t matter what other people think – you just have to be yourself – is now leaving me.
All I can think of is – what a gift motherhood has been and will continue to be.
In the thick of the baby and toddler years, 18 years seemed like an eternity. But, now it feels like a blip in time. But, the blip was so full of heartache and joy that I know now we’re bonded for actual eternity.
Motherhood doesn’t stop when they leave home. It’s the gift that keeps giving forever.
The greatest gift is to witness another human being grow, create, learn, mess up, succeed, and surprise you for the rest of your life.
I’ve always joked about how my Great-Grandmother lived to be 105 years old, and I hope I don’t live that long. But, having kids means you hope you get to live forever.
She’s leaving me today on an adventure, and I’m sad. I’m gutted, actually. Our family will never be the same.
It’s not great to have a kid leave you if I’m being honest. It’s an ache I may never get over.
But it is a gift. The years you get them at home are long and short all at the same time. They are full of frustration and happiness that co-exist in a way that is difficult to put into words.
I will always be grateful I got to be her mother during those first 18 (sometimes exhausting) years. But, the gift right now is the realization that my time of being her mother isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I still get to keep being a tiny part of whatever is coming next for her.
Motherhood is the ultimate paradox. I truly wasn’t prepared for how it would change me. I wasn’t prepared for the gift it really is.
And the best part of the story is that I get to keep watching for as long as we live.
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