Letting Go, Bit by Bit

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Mother with two small children at sunset 

I remember when it was just me and him. All day, every day. We were so close, my baby boy and I, that sometimes he felt more like an extra arm or leg than a separate person. No surprise that he was a huge mama’s boy and would choose me over anyone else. It was intense, and amazing, and difficult, being someone’s everything. I couldn’t even imagine getting to a point of letting go. Then slowly, so slowly that it was barely noticeable, he started becoming less dependant on me. He didn’t cry when I wasn’t at home to put him to bed. He would happily go sit with a grandparent and read a book. He didn’t mind going to the other room without me to play with Daddy. Then bigger changes. He stopped nursing. His little brother was born, and he adjusted to sharing me beautifully. He started preschool a couple mornings a week, with zero tears at drop off.

Everything I read said that if I could give him the intense love and connection he was looking for, he would eventually spread his wings a bit, and it all was right. I’m so incredibly proud of the little human he’s become. So proud when he happily runs around the playground with a friend instead of sticking to me like glue, or when I come to pick him up from school and he asks why I came so early, he wanted to play one more game. So proud when I bring him to his grandparents’ house and he sprints away from me without even saying goodbye. But it hurts a little bit too. I remember when we were thick as thieves; when I meant everything to him.

The way we begin this parenting thing is INTENSE. One day we’ve only got ourselves to think about, the next we literally do not have five minutes to shower because this little human needs us in an all-consuming way. It’s quite a shock to the system how much of our time and mental energy this tiny baby can take up, or at least it was for me. But we rally and, if we’re lucky, learn to love it. After we’ve made this major adjustment to our identity, we get to spend the next eighteen plus years slowly going back to the way we were before, and becoming less and less integral to our children surviving and thriving. In big ways and small ways, we move down this long path towards turning them into the independent people we once were.

Next year, we have a huge step coming up in my family. My first baby will start kindergarten. I’ll start letting go.  Gulp. The boy who once wouldn’t hear of being with anyone but me all day will now be with someone else every day, and it’s totally freaking me out.

I always enjoy back to school season on social media. It’s fun and exciting to see everyone’s kiddos dressed up and looking shiny and excited for their first day of class. But last September was different. As I browsed some photos on my news feed, it occurred to me that the next year, THIS year, it would be MY child starting kindergarten. My child going off into a big building with a million kids and a million rules and a million minutes every day he wouldn’t be spending with me.

He’ll be away from me all day long, five days a week. That seems like a lot. It means no little trips to the library or playground whenever we feel like it, no weekday playdates. I find myself wondering, did I do enough with him, have enough fun? Did I soak in his presence and this special time in our lives where I could devote myself fully to him and his brother? Soon there will be an outside entity that has control over our days, instead of being able to make our own plans. I confess that I go back and forth, alternately feeling that I can’t give him everything he needs any more, knowing that school will be good for him, and just wanting to pull him close and hold on for dear life.

This year we’ll no longer be in our own little world at home, away from the hustle and bustle of the ‘real world’. It’ll be his turn to be a part of that real world. And I’m not ready. But I know that he will be. I’ve been preparing him for this since the day he was born. So, as hard as it will be, I’ll let go again, just a little bit more, and let him spread his wings and fly. I can’t wait to see what comes next.