As a parent, I’ve tried to teach you to have empathy toward others, but I can’t expect you to empathize with me now. I’ve tried to teach you patience, but it’s me that needs to be patient now more than ever. I’ve tried to teach you to be strong and independent because I thought it would serve you well later in life, but ‘later’ has come sooner than I expected.

 

There’s another woman in the house now – you. It seems to have happened so suddenly. Last summer you were skinny dipping in the pool, and this summer you close your bedroom door. Just a few months ago you were writing instructions on construction paper for the hamster and now you’re communicating by cell phone and Facebook. I read the books and articles and listened to other parents. They all said that one day you wouldn't want to kiss me goodbye in public or ask me what to wear. I didn’t think it would happen to us, we’re so close. But things have already started to change and no one told me how it would feel.  In a way, I’ve been grieving the loss of the innocent child you once were, who held onto my every word and my hand. But it’s not about me, it’s about you. It’s not personal; it’s part of your development into adulthood. It is, after all, the ultimate job of a parent – to raise a child to be his or her own person.

 

While you were gone for 3 weeks at summer camp, the void was almost palpable, in our home and in my heart. And then I realized that it’s just the beginning – there’s going to be longer summers when you’re a camp counselor, and college and marriage and…what if you decide to live on another continent? For 3 weeks, I tried to get used to the idea that someday you would leave home. When you came home, I recognized a beautiful young woman who didn’t need to be told what to do, wear, say, or think. Like any parent, I have to trust that I’ve laid a solid foundation and done my job thus far, thought it’s certainly not over by any means. After 3 weeks of trying to come to terms with who you are becoming and what lies ahead for our relationship, I realized that it’s going to be OK. I’m ready to stop lamenting what I’ve lost and embrace who you are, independent of me, but a part of me just the same. You have your own needs and opinions and your own sense of style. Now more than ever, I need to listen, not talk. And as you push away and assert your independence, I will give you space but I will be right here, ready when you need me. 

 

Last night at 3 a.m. I was awakened by your cry, “Mommy!” You summoned me to sleep with you. Of course, you told me not to touch you or talk, just to go to sleep, but such is the beauty of our relationship now. You need me, just not in the same way. I respect who you are and who you will become. Just know that I will still sneak a kiss sometimes while you’re sleeping.

 

Love, Mommy XOXO