From the moment you entered this world — even before, when I was poring over pregnancy guides and deliberating over nursing pillows — my goal has been to help you realize your full potential. Every choice I make for you, while I still have that privilege, is aimed at guiding you toward becoming a happy, whole, and fulfilled adult — a positive force in the world.
I often find myself daydreaming about your future, imagining the kind of person you will grow up to be. My hopes for you soar high. Yet, as every parent does, I sometimes wander into that realm of what-ifs that accompany my worries. You are my firstborn, my little one, and by nature, my trial and error experiment. While your younger siblings benefit from my learnings, you’ve had to navigate this journey mostly through my stumbles, but always with my heart in the right place. I can only hope I’ve done a decent job.
As much as I dream of your adult life, I still find it hard to grasp that it’s sneaking up on us. You just turned 11 and are about to enter sixth grade — a big milestone. I’ve never had an 11-year-old before, so please bear with me as we both adjust to your growing independence. I have a feeling one of us will struggle more than the other, and I suspect that person will be me.
You are changing before my eyes. I notice it in the way your voice is losing its childhood lilt, in your long limbs growing ever taller, and in the disappearance of the sweet, baby softness I thought would last forever.
When you were younger, the days felt endless, your dependence on me like a mountain that I couldn’t see the top of. That’s probably why, as I look at you now, it’s hard to believe we’ve reached this stage so quickly. It feels like I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth through the daily challenges, and when I opened them, you were suddenly standing at this pinnacle of childhood. I’m not suggesting we’re done climbing — I realize the teenage years are likely to be quite the uphill battle — but I’m both amazed and a bit sad that so much of your childhood has already passed.
How much did I overlook while I was caught up in the nitty-gritty of motherhood? How did the time slip by so swiftly? Now that I’m aware, I want to cherish every moment with your younger brothers. But for you, those early years now feel like distant memories, like a wet footprint in the sand that’s quickly washed away.
Where did my baby go?
At this stage, you still hold on to so much of the silliness and wonder of childhood. I catch glimpses of it now and then, but they seem to be fading. In their place are the little hints that remind me your transition to adulthood is approaching faster than I would like.
You’re picking up on adult jokes, holding long conversations about the latest tech, hiding notes from girls so I can’t snoop, and shutting the door to your room as you immerse yourself in your computer, earbuds blocking out the world. You swing between being moody and showing maturity, handling responsibilities and lending a hand to your little brothers. It’s a dance between childhood and adolescence, and I’m left guessing which version of you I’ll encounter at any given moment.
You still need me, but not in the same way you did as a little boy. This realization is both exhilarating and terrifying. Before I know it, you’ll have completed your transformation, and I’ll be faced with the task of letting go.
I don’t want to grieve the baby you once were; instead, I want to celebrate the boy you are and the man you’re destined to become. But please forgive me if I struggle at times, as many mothers have since the beginning of time. There will be moments when I look at you, tears welling in my eyes for reasons I can’t quite articulate. It’s just how it goes when you’re not ready to say goodbye to those earlier days.
But moving on is inevitable, whether we’re ready or not.