Of all the gradual things in this life, watching as your kids grow up is perhaps one of the most curious. It can also be a difficult or delightful experience, depending on the day, my mood, the state of their room, and the weather.
But bearing witness to their growing up is proving to be essential to my own spiritual formation in ways I never new to expect.
For the past few years, I’ve been looking for a line they tell me doesn’t exist. But like the gathering moments of darkness in morning just between the release of the light, there is a time of sunrise.
You can see it on your phone if you check.
One moment the sun is not visible and the next, you need to pull out your sunglasses. Yes, it’s gradual. But there is still a moment. It is distinct. You can see it with your eyes and feel it in your bones.
Something has shifted. We’ve crossed from darkness into light.
Unlike the sunrise, I can’t check my phone for the moment when my little kids became big kids but it’s rearranging me. They were babies then toddlers then kindergarten age. We made it all the way through elementary school with the twins and now one more year of middle school.
See, I’ve already passed it.
I’ve been carrying that change for a few years now. I haven’t known what it would mean to name it, to point to it and say there. This is why you have a shadow of joy and questions slung over your heart.
Transition is like that. They tell me it keeps going into your 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s. Each decade has it’s own set of transitions.
I turn 40 next month and it’s strange to sit in this place between the decade when my children were toddlers and the one when they will graduate from college. I stand here with my back turned on those days, in many ways; facing the future while holding the past. I’m still clumsy with the weight of it. It’s an awkward load to bear.
And so while there isn’t a moment to point to, I think I may have found a hint.
It was the end of 5th grade and the twins had their first school dance, the kind where the cafeteria windows are covered up with black paper and parents aren’t allowed inside, only teachers.
As we walked up to the school building, other boys and girls rushed past us to push their way through the doors. My girls quickly found friends and, eager to see what their regular public school cafeteria looked like transformed into a dance floor, they pushed their way in, too, and didn’t look back, the door swiftly closing behind them, blocked by a smiling 5th grade teacher.
That was the line, right there between the painted blue cinder block hallway and the suped-up public school cafeteria.
The line was the moment they didn’t look back.
I vaguely remember a surprised oh releasing from my lips, but after that I had no words.
I turned around, my eyes stinging with tears I didn’t know to prepare for. I caught the eye of another mom and we may have walked back to our cars together, the silence between us holding all the words we couldn’t say out loud yet.
We didn’t yet know what had just happened. But we had crossed over a line.
Last week I took a break from my work while the kids where in school and went to grab lunch. Instead of going straight home, I parked my car in a lot, faced the field, pulled out the turkey and avocado to eat, and promptly burst into tears.
As it turned out, I was parked in the lot in front of the grocery store where I used to shop when the twins were first born. The field is mostly a parking lot now, but the sky looks the same there and it sent me weeping. Sobbing. Shocked.
It’s been over two years since that night at the dance and I’ve only just now begun to find the words for what it feels like when your kids are growing up.
Well I guess that’s not quite right. I can’t speak to what it feels like in general. I can only tell you what it feels like for me.
It feels like torn lace, like smoke, like wedding mints melting on your tongue.
It feels like distraction, like worry, like chasing but not-quite-catching or trying to remember but seeing only through foggy panes.
It feels like wider hips and thinner lips and laugh lines starting to show up around curved edges.
It feels like biting my cheeks when I see a younger mom with her baby because I don’t want to be that old lady who says hold them tight, they grow so fast, blah, blah, blah.
But that’s what I’ll think even though I know better than to say it.
And the thing is, she’ll think it one day, too. It’s what moms do.
Those days were hard, hard, hard. I know this. But they are also gone.
It feels like I won a ticket for the best seat in the house, but I was gone too long during intermission and missed part of the show. Or did I sleep through it? Or maybe I saw it all but just forgot a lot of the details.
It feels like both sorrow and joy.
It feels like a lump in my throat.
It feels like freedom, too.
And sometimes that part is hard for a mom to bear. Because now we have a little space to think, even though there’s still a lot to do.
They are becoming themselves now and if we’re paying attention, so are we. This is good and right. But can also feel confusing. You mean we’re still growing up even though we’re grown?
Yes, that’s right.
So maybe I’ll write another book or five. Maybe I’ll try something new, learn a skill I never had the moxie for, take up dancing.
Welcome to mid-life, mom.
Now my kids are the big kids, my kids are the ones who watch the other people’s little kids. All three of my kids have feet bigger than mine.
I hold on to the hope that there is still a lot ahead of us. I can hear the moms who have come before me saying it to me now. Your kids are still small! They say it because theirs are even older.
I know, I know.
It’s true, our youngest still plays with cars on the floor, still wants me to watch him jump. But the days are numbered. They always have been, but the numbers are more obvious now that there are more behind me than before me.
And so I stand on tip-toe and peer into our future and I see good things, I can’t help it. In many ways, I suppose I’ve crossed the line already. But I also know there will be other lines to come.
Aren’t we always standing on a line between what was and what will be?
We are all in the midst of our own transitions, our own acceptance, our own becoming. Let’s be kind with our fellow moms and not expect them to enjoy a stage that we ourselves couldn’t fully embrace until later.
Let’s be the kind of friends who walk beside even if we’re further along or behind. Let’s be that for each other and let’s be kind to ourselves as well.
All we have is this day, this great right now. Let’s look around, let’s be all here if we can, and give ourselves permission to grieve what we need to grieve and to not be afraid.
Thanks for your insights. I read this and thought of Cleopas in Luke 24. Sometimes, I reach what I think is my destination, but He doesn’t see it that way. He wants me to go further. As I look back to the road that I have just walked, I realize now that there were important things happening to me that I failed to sufficiently recognize at the time. I now realize that my “heart was burning.”
May you be blessed on your journey. There is still so much more that you are meant to do.
Bill
What a great way of putting it. Beautiful.
What is still ahead of you are the equally surprising moments where they cross back over those lines to lead and support you with not just a reflection of how you poured yourself into them, but the inherent gifts they were born to give. Every stage of parenting is a joy and even though the hard places are filled with bittersweet lessons for all of us, our perspective of these lines will make a great difference to allowing them and ourselves the space to accept and to trust God’s continued guidance. You are a wonderful mother. Keep doing all the great things you are doing, and keep finding the ways that will allow you to be present and enjoy all the moments!
You just gave what’s in my heart, the words.
Hubby and I visited our oldest son at college yesterday, taking him out to lunch since his work schedule made it impractical for him to come home for spring break. After a lunch with us hanging on his every mature, philosophical, thought-provoking word, now shrouded in overgrown mustache and chin whiskers, we watched him walk away and slip back out of our day to day life for another few months. We drove away, both of us wiping tears off our checks, thankful for his parting words that life is great right now. It’s so true that in parenting we walk a continual path of letting go, the emotions sometimes overwhelming. At my point (a decade past you 😊) I’ve started to realize, the only way to celebrate these moments of seeing our children growing into the lives we’ve hoped for them, is with tears in our eyes.
Thank you for this beautiful description of motherhood.
thank you for this! wisdom from moms “ahead of me” is SUCH a gift!
Emily,
All your words have nuzzled deep into my heart this morning, partnering close with my own unsettled emotions. My 15 and 11 year old keep walking into their future; the future I want for them, yet the future I want to hold them from, if only for small spaces of time before they keep moving forward. My heart is happy and torn and all weird inside. I never realized this is how I would feel. You cried in a parking lot and I sobbed in the middle of my kitchen. Grief for the living never occurred to me until this year. So I have my moments too, and then other days I enjoy the freedom of being a mom of older children and going and doing. Life is strange this way. It’s nice to know I’m in good company. 🙂 Thank you!
I’ll never forget that moment when my son walked into the room and I simply stared at him, wondering where my little boy had gone. Oh, but when they are grown? What wonderful friends they are to me and what joy to be around them. And the beauty of grandchildren? I can’t even… The absolute wonder of being present when your baby has a baby. Simply amazing. The transition between childhood and adulthood comes with so many feelings, but once you are through it, I can testify it is a wonderful time of life!! Hubby and I are thoroughly enjoying our grown children, the grandies, and our empty nest. Enjoy, momma. Hug them tight, love them much. Soon they’ll be grown and be your very best friends.
Yes, I understand. Grace & Love is all there is really. Make sure to lavish your children, spouse, and yourself with these. Let go of the laws, the lists, the efficiency suffocates happiness and laughter. Pay very close attention to whom they choose to marry. Does that person carry joy or drama? Does their family carry joy or drama? Thank you for writing Grace for the Good Girl! I passed on one copy to a friend of my youngest son and one copy to my newlywed son’s wife.
Your writing is so great. All the details and descriptions! And thanks for offering a hopeful vision for mid-life. Also, on Tuesday I turned in all of the forms for Oliver’s pre-k enrollment. Thankful my friend Molly let me know the deadline was about a month ago! eek. Friends are great, and Oliver was able to get enrolled still.
As stepmama to a 17 and an 11 year old, who I cherish as if I birthed them myself, this post is perfect. You truly have our words to the swirling emotions I feel, especially as we walk into the days of having a senior and a 6th grader next school year.
Thanking God for all the sweetness that has come with each new season of life, and begging for wisdom to be the parents He’s called us to be as we face each new unknown.
Thank you for this!
Children are a blessing- I am a Grammy and God has blessed me with 3! Watching them grow is amazing- did my 2 kids do that? Mothering is full time nurturing , feeding, teaching the love of God! Sometimes they “get it, sometimes not”. Mothering-especially young adults, be ready to be on your knees continually, and can be heartbreaking, but my Heavenly Father is there 24/7!!
I hear you, dear. Now, I don’t like to think our your being at mid-life, because what does that say about me–14 years your senior?! But if life expectancy is around 80-90, then yes, the 40’s are “middle aged.” But since 40 is the new 30 and 50 is the new 40, I’m not sure how it all works.
And yet. There’s no denying that the kids are growing up, is there? I understand that lump in your throat, that sudden bursting into tears. But I can offer you this: the best is behind you, but the best is still to come. It’s all hard, but it’s all good; it’s just a different kind of good and hard.
As to the fact that parenting is an amazing part of your spiritual formation, YES. Yes, yes, and yes. God bless us, every one.
So true!! The best is both behind and before us!!
Yes. That is so true. It is all good and it is all hard. Just a different type of good and a different type of hard. One older mom said it was more difficult less often. I have kids ranging 15 years to 18 months and I think that is about right.
I agree! I just turned 50 last month. My twins will turn 24 this summer. There are ups and downs in all of life but parenting has been mostly “ups”. One the twins got married last fall. If we are faithful in our parenting and with a lot of God’s grace, we can enjoy really amazing adults, that are our kids and our friends!
If our paths ever cross, I would so enjoy sitting down and sharing a cup of coffee and a heart full of words with you. I am years ahead of you on this parenting road and can only say when each transition comes, I’ve said goodbye to certain moments and welcomed new ones with my daughters. We, too, have 3 girls…all married now and 2 are mommies. Each phase of change is bittersweet and yet, God has provided deep joy along the way. In a weird way, I still feel about my daughters’ ages…and then I look in the mirror or down at my hands that bear the marks of time: sunspots, wrinkles, scars, and they look like my own mother’s hands. Hands that have loved and held and prayed and served these gifts from the Lord. Thanks for touching my heart this morning, Emily. This parenting journey doesn’t end….it takes twists and turns to new places. May you be strengthened and encouraged on the path. ~Melinda
“All we have is this day, this great right now. Let’s look around, let’s be all here if we can, and give ourselves permission to grieve what we need to grieve and to not be afraid.”
Thank you, thank you! I’m here too in this strange shadow place of change. I miss my boys as babies, as toddlers with easy problems to solve. Middle school is murkey and hard and soon the oldest will leave us for college. Thank you for letting me know you are here too – that the untethered-ness I feel is not just me.
My littles are both grown and in college, yet I find myself thinking much about the transitions of life lately. Maybe because it is our first year alone in a big house and the “baby” is gone. The one thing I have realized is – if we knew when each of our lasts would happen (last time to carry them in our arms, last time to read a bedtime story, last time to help with a bath, last baseball game he plays, last time you play dolls with her…), wouldn’t life progress so much differently? That is why it is truly important to realize our days are numbered and we should live life to the full – as if every day is our last of something.
– love, almost-50-year-old-Kris
Oh, Emily – yes, yes, yes! My kids are 24 and 26, and I remember clearly how it sucker-punched me when I began grieving as I noticed that they were moving out of little-kiddom to preteens and then teens. I was grieving the loss of these little people who I would never see again except in pictures and in my heart.
One of them has grown into a dear friend who shows up for me when I need it – such grace! But one of them has grown into a distant stranger, which brings a different kind of grief.
I don’t like the old grief or this fresh one, but thank you for the reminder to be kind to myself, and that there is spiritual formation in this. I need to remember both.
PS – A note I wish I could send my younger self: when boys turn 12 or 13, they want to argue with you about EVERYTHING! It’s not your fault; it’s just how they are. It will pass.
Awesome sentence…..I was grieving the loss of these little people who I would never see again except in pictures and in my heart. My husband and I both shed a few tears as this captured our experience and grief and touched our hearts. Thank you!
Coming from a mom with a baby on her hip, thank you for the reminder that these long, hard days are really short. 🙂
Not mid-life, dearest. Mid-parenting.
I have had an empty nest for nearly 4 years now and there is a different sort of life, rich and challenging in different ways, even though there is a twinge of sadness now and then and my heart still sings when my boy comes in the door.
There will be so much more life left, God willing, after the “hands on parenting” is finished. There will always, always be the parenting of intercessory prayer for their entire lives. Some days this will make you as weary as when the twins were born but in those times it is most important to carry on with that prayer.
Make your list of those things that you will do, and write about it. Dancing is on my list, and it begins right after seminary, which was the first thing on my list.
There is so much richness left, just watch.
And also, I will never stop telling mothers how fast it goes. It reminds me to slow down and savor as well.
Grace and peace.
Just last week I too stopped near a field and did the same thing. This is such a tender time, and sometimes it just overwhelms me.
*Really* beautiful words here, Emily. I want to especially be mindful of being that friend who walks beside fellow mamas, no matter their stage in parenting. Much love.
I remember that moment, when I realized I was a mom of big kids. My whole identity shifted. It is such a bitter sweet thing. The years have FLOWN by!!
I remember that dance! When she didn’t look back… and disappeared into the suped up cafeteria. But then, do you remember when you walked into that cafeteria / gymnasium with the awe and excitement of being set free? Did you look back? I remember those events in my life and now, every time I experience those little twisting hurts in my belly when one of my kids “doesn’t look back,” I compel myself to draw on my memory of a similar personal milestone. That really helps me. I am not sure if that is “reversed empathy” or what – surely there’s a name for it – I usually feel a little comforted. I read your beautiful words and felt a tear come to my eye – maybe that was encouraged by having “Engagement Party” from La La Land playing at the time!
Check out the lyrics in this song… usually makes me cry just a little.
Nil Lara – My First Child
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VLW8SxnMDe8
Thanks for your words – all of them.
-Nate
I have 16 year old b/g twins and I have to say I agree with your whole post. It seems time goes so slow when you are wanting it move along and on the other had, time flies when you want it to slow down!
goodness. thank you for this post! sitting here BAWLING my eyes out. I just took my oldest daughter to get her learners permit this morning. it’s my first year at home (in 15 years!) while all my kids are in school. I have 6 – ages 15-6 years old. I LOVED the “little kid” stage. I’m grieving it being over, and at the same time, enjoying the people that my older kids are becoming before my eyes. I have a front row seat as they blossom into the people they will be…and I soak it in most days (not all! :-)) THANK YOU for this…it’s something I don’t think I’ve EVER read anyone else talk about.
So beautiful, Emily. You put words to how I feel as well. Our kids ages are straddling middle school and I find myself torn with emotions…wanting to hold our 15 year old tight and squinting to see the little boy he used to be. At the same time, wanting to enjoy all the little-boy-ness of our 8 year old and being present and available to our 3 teenage-ish girls. One of my biggest take aways from Simply Tuesday was to recognize my emotions and sit with them, rather than push them away. How often I get to practice this on this motherhood journey! Thank you for displaying your heart, and echoing my own, so well.
My youngest two are 11 and 12 and I find myself holding on to them with iron hands wearing velvet gloves. I don’t remember holding on so tightly as their older siblings tested their own feathers and flew out of this nest. It wasn’t until I read your article that I realized that once these last two are gone, I will have no others left at home to fill the space their leaving creates. And how sad that all is.
Thank you for putting words to something I didn’t know was there for the knowing and the feeling of it.
Your words are inspiring as always, Emily. My children at home are 11,17,18, and a 24 yr old on his own now. Time does fly and right now for myself, enjoying every moment, is paramount to my heart. Letting go of the oldest was an every day inward process. The middle girls will be harder yet, and I’m well aware now, the youngest, will be the most interesting. As I endure the hard of the work as a mom, always wondering if I’m teaching them enough for life, the answers only come after they’re gone flying. The whole reason we were trusted with raising them. Thank you for your special words, that can somehow describe how we feel, and make us ever more grateful, and not alone. Many Blessings to you and yours
I feel every word of this. My oldest is leaving home in August for college, and I don’t even know how to approach this line, let alone cross it. It’s the line you always see coming, but never believe will arrive. And then it appears. Much love to you as you enter this new season. It is so hard, and yet so very good.
I saw myself in every word. I’m past this and in the middle of it. I am forever grateful for my youngest two that keep me dipping my toes back into the wonder of childhood. Watching our kids grow is both chest-swelling amazing (because look at them now!) and heart-wrenching wistful (because every sleepy head was under one roof). Loved your words, Emily.
Oh, Emily, that was beautiful.
Thank you Emily… Yes …. There is so much transitioning to be done in life’s journey. And to be kind to others and to ourselves is so important. At the moment I’m wearing brave as I let my boy ride his bike to school, as I send kids off on school camps, and as I try to keep up with all the notes that come home from school – permission forms, enrolment forms, interviews with teachers etc And my brain feels fuzzy but I am supposed to keep up. And the face that looks back at me in the mirror looks like a mum in her late thirties, but how can that be?!
As a mom to twin s who are almost 21 I still have those moments the way they need me is different but they are also the ones who encourage me to chase new dreams. They are my biggest fans, but I miss them as they fly on their own journey and jump for joy when they want to talk whIle home from college and watch prayerfully when they leave we will always be their mom and they know we are waiting in the wings. God has used this time to teach some beautiful lessons to us all hope this helps
Yes this mothering journey has it’s seasons – not clearly defined ones though which leave us a bit disoriented.
If I was more experienced in the online world I’d be able to make some very clever link to another blog which I read not long after I turned 40….. it was my “aha” moment that you’ve just described so beautifully for us. Thank you God for blogging mamas……I found myself releasing a huge sigh of relief to have someone explain to me why I felt so exhausted and muddled in my mothering.
“We are like mothering marathoners but only on mile-15. A long way in, but a long way to go.” Aimee Kollmansberger (In her “About” tab at middlemercies.com)
Awwww, I was scrolling down these comments of this post and it was so meaningful to see your quote of my page. It was like a little hug 🙂 Thanks Rachel!
Agreed. I have an only child. Not by choice, I was diagnosed with a horrible autoimmune disease that causes me to miscarry & due to fact I’m on & off chemo pills, I’m told I shouldn’t have any more children. So we’re done. We’ve been done. It’s devastating to me but I try to get over it. Sometimes I feel what you wrote even worse because I don’t have other littles after her to help prolong those emotions. I only get 1 chance at this. And for each milestone at that. She’s going into 8th grade this fall. I’m 38. How did this happen?!? ha! Time is a thief.
How timely is your post, Emily. We’re in our own transition time, except I’m one decade ahead and the one reminding you to enjoy each moment, because it goes so fast (blah, blah, blah).
My oldest is in his second year of college (although living at home), and my youngest is a high school senior. So we’ve made it through the preliminary growing up stages and are on to the finals. They are learning to drive and will soon be leaving us more and more.
It’s both wonderful and freeing and amazing and sad and scary. But we trust the God has our futures in his hands.
I’m right with you in the feeling that “we’re still growing up even though we’ve grown”. My mother (who’s in her 70’s) said to me once that you don’t really feel that much older on the inside; you just feel older in your body). Well, she’s right, too. Sure, we grow and mature with each experience and trial, but in some ways we’re always just the same little kids in big people’s bodies. It often surprises me when inside I feel like I’m 16 again, or I forget when with younger adults that I’m one of the “older” ones.
Thanks for the reminder to enjoy and savor each moment. My word for this year was “cherish”, and I needed this encouragement focus on that again. Each day and moment is precious.
oh Emily….I’ve been feeling this for some time now. I feel as though time is seeping through my fingers as I watch my children grow at warp speed. Our children are similar ages (twin girls, 11- baby boy, 8). I remember oh so well being the mama in the store who had to stop and listen to the other moms tell me to “enjoy every minute,” and how they “remember that age so well,” as I rolled my eyes on the inside. Now I catch myself and bite my lip as I’m that mama. It all happens so fast, and I find myself holding back tears at the oddest and most unopportune times. This mama business is not for the faint of heart.
As I read your post, I’m feeding my youngest, seven months old, in the wee hours of the morning. And before long my oldest will wake up, five-and-a-half. He tells anyone and everyone, “but I feel six”. What must “six” feel like?
Thankful for your perspective and for your words tonight, Emily!
But also… the thought of a middle school dance down the road ahead sends shivers down my spine!
Wept through this. This is exactly how I’m feeling with a 6th, 4th, and 2nd grader. Beautifully written, beautifully said. Thank you.
Oh Emily. You took the words right out of my heart. My three are 12, 10 and 7. I still sneak in and kiss my baby before I go to bed and often come away with a lump in my throat for all that is already passed, even though I have shouted or been frustrated with them in the day. I am enjoying watching them grow, develop their own opinions, likes and dislikes, but a part of my is still in mourning for the squishy-thighed toddlers I used to have – even though I spent a lot of time wishing those years away.
I’m with you. Daily reminding myself of all the good there surely is ahead. X
Deep thinkers/feelers are prone to want to find the words that will shape something untouchable into that which can be held and turned to examine. We want to figure it out, route out and sort the hows and whys. The good news is it gets easier over time. Eventually, you come to terms with just how inevitable the rites of passage are so the only option is to just go with it. The only way to embrace the untouchable is to accept that when you feel like weeping you’ve reach yet another life-altering portal that must be slipped through.
I think I met this face on when my oldest grandson turned 25 a couple weeks ago. When I realized he is older than I was when his mother was born, instead of weeping, I smiled. That I am still here to acknowledge that is a cause for celebration and gratitude. See how that works? 🙂
Do you know when I was writing this post I thought “I wonder what Meema thinks about all this.” I’m glad to see you here. Thank you.
Thank you! I’m always here, hanging over in the corner observing. I have to get my youth fix from your beautiful writing. 🙂
This post reminded me of Sara Grove’s song “Signal” from her album Floodplain. Have you heard it? It will make you cry some more, but it’s so good.
Emily,
I think you would really resonate with the book by Eugene Peterson called Like Dew Your Youth.
As I read your words,
“They are becoming themselves now and if we’re paying attention, so are we. This is good and right. But can also feel confusing. You mean we’re still growing up even though we’re grown?”
it reminded me of Eugene talking about the growth of a young teen coinciding with the growth a parent in mid-life. A little-known gem of his.
I loved the days when our 3 kids were all at home. Now, they are all grown up, and I enjoy 3 of my best friends. Who knew that we could raise little people that actually become people we want to hang out with (and they with us–maybe THAT’S the miracle!).
So tomorrow, we’ll jump on a plane (great to have a sister that’s flown on a major airline since 1983!!) and make a trip to Denver to spend the day with our baby girl (she’s 26, still baby girl) and on the verge of getting engaged, and the next day with our middle son & DIL. Then drive our trailer home.
It’s a hard transition from a full nest, but there is also great joy.
Emily, your experience demonstrates that you are what I like to call, “deep water.” This means to me that it may take a long time for your feelings to come to the surface and be expressed. I am like that, but I appreciate your upwelling, expression of them to us; we learn from that experience to wait for our own feelings to come to the surface so we can see ourselves in that reflection.
My parenting season? My oldest will be 40 this year, like you. Two ideas for you to consider:
From here forward prayer for your children, laying at God’s threshold, is your comfort, hope and way to cope as they “don’t look back.” He knows your love for them and will answer you.
Secondly,I wish I would have journaled about my children as they grew up. Then I would have had the memories and thoughts of those seasons ,not only for myself but for them. May your writing be a precious gift to them for the future.
Emily. Yes. I keep walking this letting go journey. Wish somehow it got easier. The pride in who they are. The joy of moving to wonderful friends in addition to mom. The need to grieve but also working to make the transition so you don’t hold them back, but hold them up when they need it. Oh, my. Hold me tight Jesus. 🙂
It is so good to read your words and all of the wonderful outpouring from your fellow readers and friends. It is so affirming and comforting to know that all of us moms are going through different transitions with parenting our babies. Every stage has its trials and its joys. It’s good to know that spread across the world we have this fellowship of moms who love their kids. Just reading all of these stories of pain and joy and loss and hope brings me such comfort. Thank you everyone for the heartfelt sharing. It’s good to know that even though we may feel alone…we aren’t alone when we cry in our kitchens or in our cars. What a gift we are for one another.
GAH! Now I am a mess. Andrew wanted me to rock him yesterday and sing to him like when he was a little infant (which yes was only a year and a half ago, but that is how fast they grow!!) I savored each moment because I know I will blink and he’ll be pushing away my embraces.
Beautiful, beautiful post, Emily. Such wonderful, observant truth here.
I’m wrestling with much of this right now myself, a few years ahead of you, as our oldest daughter (25) will be moving 2,400 miles away in two weeks. Our girls, all three, went to college right down the street, so I haven’t really had to deal with what most parents have had to deal with when their kids were 18. But now, this 2,400 mile move has me feeling all the feels and crying pretty much all the time. It’s caught me off-guard, in a way. (And it probably doesn’t help that my mom was diagnosed with cancer on the same day my daughter told me she was moving. Ah, the sandwich generation!)
But here’s what I have to keep telling myself and the young moms I mentor: I believe in letting go. And if I’ve raised my kids to follow Jesus that means that I have raised them to listen to His leading and to go, no matter where it takes them. And that’s exactly what she’s doing. How can I be sad (well, too sad anyway)? I believe that parenthood is a series of small moments of letting go that lead to bigger moments. And learning, over and over again, how to trust God through it all.
I don’t even have children yet and this made me teary. Thank you for sharing it.
Oh Emily, I feel your Mama pain. My four have somehow all grown up AND graduated from college! I look at their baby pictures framed in our bedroom and I can’t fathom all the days that added up to create these amazing, kind, hard-working, fun adults. Although I SO miss the little stage (and I’m such a baby lover) yet it’s amazing watching them hang out as best friends and the joy my husband and I felt celebrating at our two son’s weddings. It’s a privilege now to get phone calls when my daughters need prayer or advice. Still their Mama…always.
Tears are expected. Thank you for sharing your heart. P.S. My youngest just face timed me!!
And then the youngest of four can drive … and suddenly you lose all that car time.
What a special gift you have, Emily. You have put into words, so well, how I’ve been feeling. I didn’t expect to cry when I read your post. But I did. It was that “me too” feeling that just felt so good…to be understood. My oldest graduates from high school this spring. It’s such a big thing to process.
Hot dang.
“It feels like torn lace, like smoke, like wedding mints melting on your tongue.” You’re so good at this, Emily. xo
I love this for so many reasons. Partly because I have already crossed that line with one of mine and my next two are not that far behind. My baby will be in high school next year. High school!? When did that happen? Emily, I have always enjoyed your words because you so beautifully express what my heart is feeling. So happy to walk alongside you & others who can hardly imagine what it’s like to cross that line, holding out my hands to give support yet needing it just as much. We’re all in this together. And somehow that makes all the difference.
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing, and Happy Birthday! When I was 40, and my youngest was 10, God called us to adopt. Hardest decision ever, but the best thing we ever did. So thankful for my now 16 year old daughter! You never know what surprises/blessings God has for the future.
I find comfort in hearing I’m not the only mother feeling unneeded after once being the center of my children’s world. It’s a gradual adjustment but shocking at moments. Hold tight yet loosely. They will always come to realize who you were and who you are now to them. Give yourself the moment to grieve. Then move on to the the next happy moment.
Coming here from Shannan’s post and I’m crying, even though I’m in the thick of little kids and not grown ones, because everyday I weigh that tension of not wanting to rush the days but also just wanting to put them to bed already. My oldest learned to ride a bike this week and I’m not sure I’ve felt more proud in all my days of parenting. And yet the youngest still wakes up from molars and the middle can’t wipe herself. I don’t really have a point to any of this except to say thank you for your words, for speaking out the path that is before me, and putting words to some of the many, many complex emotions of mothering.
You verbalized this feeling so well, Emily. We have lots in common. I’ll be turning 40 this summer. My kids are 16, 14 and 11. Everything is speeding up lately. There are moments of nostalgia and bittersweet memories. But, ready or not, change will come.
yesterday my two middle boys left for school in kenya again, and i feel like whoever told me this eventually gets easier either lied or is a lot stronger than i am. some days i don’t even know anymore if this is what God’s asking of us. i start to doubt whether i actually ever knew. did i, once?
with the grieving, though, i find i’m still believing He will grow them in ways that will make them brave and kind and full of Jesus. i hope so.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts of being a mid-life mother. I am right there with you. I am 41 and have two middle school children. I tell them that they are “all big.” Thank you very much for your encouraging words and gentle reminders. Wishing you all a wonderful spring. Take care.
I don’t know how I didn’t read this back when you wrote it in March, so glad I did now. I’m the late 50s mom – ouch – and you are right the transitions come with each decade. Longing for yesteryear with little ones becomes more heightened and worries are so much bigger with growns. Thank goodness for this Father of ours who holds all our questions and let’s us shed those tears and still reminds so gently – I am here, fear not, they are mine.
thanks for putting words to my feelings……
Oh Emily, thank you for writing this. I am so grateful for the ways you process life and put it to words. It invites me to feel and slow down and grieve and celebrate. Thanks for sharing yourself with us. And happy almost birthday! Grateful for your life 💚
Dear Emily,
Thank you for your post…it describes exactly how I am feeling as I watch my oldest go to highschool in the fall. I find myself looking at pictures and wondering “where did the time go?” And I admit to myself, those years were good but also really hard. And I feel myself breathing deeply, coming into spacious places, becoming more myself…and really loving this stage. Thank you for putting into beautiful words what I am currently experiencing. God bless you. Leah
My kids are only 3 and 16 months old but I’m already feeling this!! Time is racing away and I’m trying to soak up every second.
This is perfect and just what I needed to hear xx
Thanks for this article, it’s so true. I’m glad there’s others that feel this way. Nobody talks about it much. I’ve never felt such sadness. I’m cleaning out my computer files and I came across files of my youngest recording her singing 5 years ago when she was 13, and here I am, crying hard. I missed it, it’s gone, and I feel like praying to God to please, please, let me go back there and have those 5 years again… and not even God can answer that prayer.