I swore I wouldn’t be that mom. You know, the one who sighs dramatically over every fleeting phase of childhood, reminiscing about each milestone as if it were a scene from a movie. The teary-eyed mess at preschool graduation? Not me. But nobody warned me about these little heartaches that come with being a parent.
We were enjoying a gorgeous day in Hilton Head, South Carolina, my family and I, ready for a beach day with our little guy, Max, happily nestled in his Radio Flyer. We looked like a postcard—perfectly curated for Instagram, I won’t lie.
As soon as we arrived, I unbuckled Max and lifted him out of the wagon, anticipating a joyful embrace. But in that perfect moment, he pulled away, leaning back with a resolute “No!” I was taken aback. I reached for him again, expecting him to come into my arms.
“No!” he insisted, wriggling free. “Get down!”
I sat him down on the sand and gently offered my hand. Maybe he just didn’t want to be held?
“No, mama!” Max declared, turning toward his dad. He toddled off, grasped his father’s hand, and waved back at me with a bright “Bye-bye.”
Ah, sweet rejection. It wasn’t a harsh dismissal, but it still stung. In that moment, I felt a familiar ache—one that echoed previous goodbyes. The first time my child chose someone else over me.
As I waved them off, I settled onto a towel, pretending to read a magazine. I pulled my sunglasses down to hide the tears. Remember, I’m not that mom.
While my husband and Max splashed in the waves, my thoughts drifted. I began to realize that this was just the beginning of many little goodbyes I would face as a parent. I envisioned him shooing me away at the bus stop, asserting his independence. “Mom, I know where to go. Can you just wait here today?”
I imagined him, clad in a mismatched outfit, proclaiming, “Mom, I can dress myself. I don’t need your help anymore, okay?”
Then, there’d be those awkward middle school moments when he’d ask me to tone down my enthusiastic cheering at basketball games. “Mom, I’d really like it if you didn’t cheer so loud. The other guys make fun of me.”
Before I knew it, I could see him off to college, a trunk full of dreams and a bumper sticker proclaiming his new school, waving back at me, “Don’t worry, mom. I’ll be home by Christmas.”
I finally understood that parenting is a journey of nurturing someone only to watch them grow and eventually let them go. And perhaps it’s a blessing that this doesn’t all happen at once—my heart wouldn’t survive it otherwise.
As a mother, my deepest desire is for my child to find joy and independence in this world. Yet, that doesn’t make the process any easier. From the moment he was born, he needed me more than ever, and with each passing day, he needs me a little less. There are a thousand small goodbyes between now and the day he’s fully grown.
So, maybe I will allow myself to feel this sadness. Because, if I’m being honest, I might just be “that mom” after all. And this childhood thing? It’s racing by way too fast.
For more insights on the journey of motherhood, check out our other blog posts, like this one. Also, if you’re exploring home insemination options, Cryobaby provides excellent resources. And for comprehensive information on pregnancy, visit the CDC.
In summary, motherhood is filled with bittersweet moments of letting go, but it’s all part of the journey of raising happy, independent individuals.