From the moment you came into this world—actually, even before that, when I was up late diving into parenting books and weighing the merits of various nursing pillows—I have been dedicated to nurturing your potential. Every choice I make, while I still have the authority to make them, is aimed at guiding you towards becoming a happy, fulfilled adult who contributes positively to the world.
I often find myself envisioning the many paths your future could take, filled with high hopes and dreams. Yet, I also occasionally drift into that familiar realm of what-ifs that plague every concerned parent. As my firstborn, you were my first experience, my learning curve, and my little experiment. While your siblings benefit from the wisdom I’ve gathered, you’ve been shaped largely through trial and error, all with the best of intentions. I can only hope that I’ve navigated this journey successfully.
Despite my vivid imaginations of your future, I find myself taken aback by how quickly this moment has arrived. You just turned 11 and will soon be starting sixth grade—a significant milestone. Since I’ve never had an 11-year-old before, we’ll both have to adjust as you explore your growing independence. I suspect one of us will struggle more than the other, and I have a feeling that will be me.
You’re changing in ways that are both exciting and bittersweet. I notice the childhood sweetness fading from your voice, see your limbs stretching, and feel the loss of that babyish roundness that I thought would last forever. In your early years, the days felt long, filled with your immense need for me, which made it hard to imagine reaching this point. It feels as if I’ve blinked and suddenly, here we are. While I know we’re not at the finish line yet, I recognize that the teenage years ahead will likely be challenging. It’s both amazing and sad that so much of your childhood has already passed.
How much did I overlook while immersed in the daily grind of motherhood? How did time slip by so swiftly? Now that I understand, I can make a conscious effort to savor each moment with your younger siblings. As for you, those early years are now memories I can only revisit, like fading footprints in the sand.
Where did my baby go?
At this stage, you’re still young enough to hold onto much of the silliness, innocence, and wonder of childhood. I catch glimpses of these traits from time to time, but they seem to be diminishing. In their place, I notice subtle signs that remind me your transition to adulthood is approaching faster than I’d like. You now understand adult humor, engage in discussions about technology, and even hide notes from girls to keep me from reading them. You retreat to your room with earbuds in, blocking out the world. You oscillate between being moody and mature, managing your responsibilities, assisting your younger brothers, and practicing critical thinking—behaviors typical of almost-grown-ups. You’re straddling the line between childhood and adolescence, leaving me uncertain about which version of you I will encounter at any moment.
You still need me, but it’s not in the same way as when you were a little boy. This realization brings with it a mix of excitement and fear. Before I know it, you’ll complete your transformation, and I’ll be faced with the challenge of letting go.
I don’t want to grieve the baby you were; I want to celebrate the boy you are and the man you are becoming. But please bear with me as I navigate this emotional terrain—something mothers have probably been grappling with since the dawn of time. There will be moments when I look at you with tears in my eyes for reasons I can’t fully articulate. It’s a natural response to change, especially when one isn’t ready to let go.
Yet moving on is an inevitable part of life, regardless of our readiness.
This piece was originally published on July 5, 2016.
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In summary, this reflective piece explores the bittersweet journey of watching a child grow up, balancing the joys of their progress with the melancholic realization of the passage of time. It highlights the emotional complexities of parenthood, particularly for the firstborn, as well as the inevitable shift towards independence.