As my eldest son embarked on his senior year of high school, I promised myself it would be easier this time around with my second child. I even penned my thoughts in a blog post. Fast forward six months, and I’m confronted with the reality that my struggle to let go is far deeper than I anticipated. These past frigid months in Minnesota have left my heart heavy with fears and swirling emotions, trying desperately to separate my feelings from those of my son. Yet, how can one differentiate snowflakes in the midst of a snowstorm?
There were ACTs, college applications, and the agonizing waiting game. Hope, rejection, elation, confusion, and fear all danced together in a chaotic whirlwind. “He’s ready,” I thought, but then again, “He’s not nearly prepared.” I found myself wishing for time to stand still amidst the tumult of emotions, from his pleas of “Leave me alone, Mom,” to his questions of “When will you be home?” Agony and excitement coexisted in a delicate balance.
Thankfully, as winter began to thaw into spring, the weight of my worries lightened. The season revealed the beauty of change, and with the melting snow came clarity regarding many uncertainties. However, even as my son made his college decision and graduation approached, I still find myself grappling with how much warmth it will take to soften the icy grip on my heart.
While I celebrate the joy of this transitional season and bask in pride for my son’s accomplishments, I can’t help but feel the pull of uncertainty. The process of letting go is fraught with a mix of emotions. I know my son senses my internal struggle, and I see it reflected in his bright green eyes when he thinks I’m not looking.
I often wonder if he feels the weight of time passing as I do. Is he aware of the impending summer, marking it as both an end and a beginning? Or is he embracing the present, savoring the last few moments of this chapter, which is exactly what I should be doing? I’m trying, I really am.
Yet, my mind drifts to that bittersweet moment at the end of summer when we board a flight 2,000 miles away to his new home. My husband and I will return without him, leaving our son to start a life that won’t include the comfort of my nightly hugs or the daily routine of seeing him bound down the stairs, his siblings trailing behind like little ducklings. I’ll miss the sound of him walking through the door after school, greeting me with his familiar, “Hi Mom, I’m hungry.” Those moments will fade into memories, and I will rely on sporadic phone calls and texts to catch glimpses of his new life—his unspoken feelings will be hidden from me. I doubt he’ll share his moments of missing home, but I know he’ll sense my absence and understand that distance won’t diminish my desire to nurture and love him.
Spring embodies transformation and letting go—the melting away of fears and the blossoming of new beginnings, preparing the eaglet for its first solo flight while the mother gets ready to release him into the world. It’s almost that time, but not quite yet.
If you’re navigating similar feelings about your child’s transition to college, you might find this blog post on intrauterine insemination helpful for understanding the emotional journey. For those considering family planning options, check out Make A Mom for top-quality at-home insemination kits. Additionally, Cleveland Clinic provides a great resource for information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, as we approach the time to let go, it’s essential to embrace each moment, recognizing the bittersweet beauty of change and the journey ahead for both parent and child.
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