Updated: December 20, 2015
Originally Published: May 21, 2015
Six months ago, as my eldest son embarked on his senior year of high school, I promised myself that I would handle his upcoming departure with grace. I even penned a blog post about it, convinced that the experience would be less daunting with my second child. Fast forward to now, and I’m realizing that my struggles with letting go are far more intense than I anticipated. During these frigid winter months in Minnesota, my heart was gripped by anxiety as I tried to navigate the whirlwind of emotions swirling around me and my son. It’s as if I were caught in a snowstorm, desperately trying to distinguish between my feelings and his.
ACTs. College applications. Waiting. Hope. Rejection. Disappointment. More waiting. Acceptance. Joy. Confusion. Fear. He’s ready. Not ready at all. Time feels like it’s standing still, yet racing by all at once. “Mom, leave me alone.” “When are you coming home, Mom?” The mixture of agony and excitement has been overwhelming.
Fortunately, as spring approached, the heavy winter clouds began to lift, bringing with them a sense of renewal. The transition to warmer days illuminated the beauty in change, and with the snow melting, many uncertainties began to thaw as well. Even though my son had made his college choice and graduation was on the horizon, I still found myself grappling with the emotional iceberg lodged in my chest.
In the warmth of spring, I allowed myself to bask in feelings of relief and pride, but I also felt the pull of uncertainty that this transition brings. Letting go of your child is a process that tugs, tears, lingers, and excites—deeply affecting both parent and child. I know that my son feels my emotions, even if I try to conceal them. I catch glimpses of it in his vibrant green eyes when he thinks I’m not looking.
I often wonder if he senses the passage of time as acutely as I do. Does he feel the excitement of spring giving way to summer, marking it as an ending and a beginning? Or is he fully immersed in the moment, savoring the “lasts” of this chapter—something I should be doing too? I’m making an effort, but there are times when my mind wanders to the end of summer when we’ll board a flight 2,000 miles away from him. My husband and I will return home without our son, who will be starting a new life that won’t include our daily hugs or the comfort of hearing him bound down the stairs every morning.
I’ll miss those familiar greetings as he walks through the door after school or practice, always declaring, “Hi Mom, I’m hungry.” Those cherished moments will become memories that I cling to, while he’ll be crafting a new existence far from home. I’ll learn about his college life through sporadic texts and phone calls, but I won’t be able to see the nuances behind his words. He might not mention missing me, but I know he’ll understand just how much I miss him. No distance can diminish my desire to protect, nurture, and love him as I have for the past 18 years.
Spring symbolizes transformation and the act of letting go—the melting away of fear and the blossoming of new beginnings, preparing our eaglet for its first flight while I prepare to let him soar confidently from the nest. The time is approaching, but I’m not quite ready yet.
If you’re interested in family planning, check out this great resource for insights on pregnancy. For those considering fertility options, visit Make a Mom for expert advice. And for more parenting tips, you can read about home insemination here!
In summary, as my son prepares for his next adventure, I find myself caught between pride and a lingering sense of loss. While I cherish our time together, I also grapple with the bittersweet reality of letting him go, navigating the emotional complexities of this transformative season.