Letting Go Of Who I Once Was To Make Room For Who I’m Becoming
Why is it that when you have a child, no one tells you how profoundly emotional their growing up will be? You hear all the stories about how quickly they grow, so be sure to enjoy every moment. They tell you that you can’t get the time back, so be sure to make memories. They tell you that nothing is more important than family or spending time with your child. They tell you how imperative it is to be present, and to listen, but no one ever tells you how deeply emotional you will be for the REST OF YOUR LIFE!! Every milestone brings an onslaught of tears that seem to have been waiting, the whole time, behind the curtains. You cannot even control them!
It started for me as soon as I had my daughter, and she was no longer in utero. I’d spent the last nine months bonding with and loving this child inside of me, and it felt good to know that she was all mine. Every moment was mine; I didn’t have to share them if I didn’t want to. And every day brought a new joy, a new experience, a moment that was all ours. It was as if we spoke our own language. And then the day came that I gave birth to her. I could not believe she was finally here, and I had to share her with the rest of the world. While I was so excited to finally meet her, I was also deeply saddened about the ending of my pregnancy with her. So, as crazy as it may sound, I was grieving and celebrating simultaneously.
Then, it was time to bring her home. From that point on, it was the lifting of the head, the rolling over, the sitting up, holding the bottle, the crawling, the walking, and the talking. Every milestone created excitement as I knew that meant that she was growing and healthy, but it also created a moment of grief. It was a ripple in time that you know will never happen again in the same way, with the same emotion, same excitement, and same heartfelt, “She did it!” Once my daughter showed me that she could do something, I grew to expect it and be on the lookout for it. So, while I was always excited, that initial jolt of “this has never happened before” excitement would never manifest that same way again—unless it was about a new milestone achievement.
And so it began, growing, developing, maturing—as she should. But along with her growth and development lies the sadness and grief of every stage left behind. While I am thrilled to watch her grow and develop into her own person, with an abundance of personality, it also makes me sad and long for what was. Because the reality is, the older that she gets, the less dependent she is—the less she needs me. And if your child is anything like mine, he or she has always been independent to some degree; however, it does not make it any easier.
I remember my daughter’s tenth birthday. It was such a big deal for me. I remember the weeks and days leading up to her birthday; I was so emotional. I could not believe my child was already approaching the double digits. I found myself in a constant state of reflection, reminiscing on her younger years, how much she’d grown, matured, and asking myself, “where did the time go?” While she was excited because for her, this meant she was one step closer to being a teenager and finally in double digits, I was struggling with all of these emotions that I did not know how to verbalize at the time, and no one ever told me I would experience.
I remember saying to myself out loud, “Wow, I’ve been a mom for ten years.” I could not believe it.
Not to mention, the innocence starts to wane as they grow older and begin to ask more complicated and complex questions. I find such beauty in my daughter’s innocence, and I find myself grieving the loss of that. As she grows older, the world and her perception of it will begin to change. No matter how much I try to protect her, her life experiences will help shape and mold her perception of the world and the people in it. That is scary in itself, because as much as I would love to, I cannot protect her from everything. And that realization became very real in that moment.
As my daughter turned twelve last year, I felt like I was back in the same space I was in when she turned ten. I remember the ebbs and flows of sadness I felt as the day quickly approached. I thought I was prepared for this. We’d tackled the double-digit birthday; surely I was prepared for this one. And then it hit me, this is the last year that my daughter will be considered a child. After this year, she will be considered a teenager. Upon that revelation, I was thrown even deeper into the throes of grief, emotion, and longing to just hold her a little while longer, in this moment. In this space of childhood. The space of limited knowledge, responsibility, and minimal hurt. Yes, she is technically still a child at 13, and no matter what her age, she will always be my baby, but the world will view her as a teenager.
And then came the moment she was waiting for, she turned 13 this year. She is officially a teenager! Of course, she was excited as every child is on their birthday. I, on the other hand, was silently screaming, among other things. I had so many people tell me that this would be the age that I would stop liking my daughter, but I believe and still believe that that won’t be the case. I know, every mother thinks that their child is different, but my daughter has such a kind spirit and genuine heart that I truly believe that she will remain who she is at her core, no matter the changes that the phase of teenage life brings.
Her 13th birthday was a pivotal moment for me, where instead of succumbing to the feelings of overwhelming sadness and grief, I leaned into gratitude. I felt an indescribable sense of gratitude and thankfulness this year. I started reflecting on every beautiful moment, memory, and challenge we’ve overcome. And this made me excited—excited for the memories to come in the days and years ahead. It made me excited because as she grows older and more mature, the more of her I get to experience, learn, and her frame of thinking I get to unpack and devour.
It was at this moment that I decided that while I know I will grieve in these moments, I won’t allow my grief to ever overshadow my joy. She is a light, and such a beautiful experience. I would never want to shortchange her experience with me as her mother because I am holding onto a version of her that no longer exists. This is the moment that I began to let go.
Now, please understand that motherhood is the best blessing I have experienced thus far. I just had no idea that with every stage of growth that I experience with my daughter, would be full of immense joy but also grief. It is quite a conundrum, but beautiful, nonetheless. While I am so excited to see her grow into one of the most beautiful humans I know, I don’t think I will ever stop reminiscing about the little person who used to follow me everywhere I went.
It is so bittersweet to see her as a thirteen-year-old middle schooler, with opinions, ideas, and such quick wit. Because when I look at her, I will always see the baby that I brought home from the hospital that day. And so, it continues with more maturation, puberty, and even, dare I say, wisdom. The journey will continue with high school selection, permit test, driver’s license, and before I know it, college applications.
One thing I know for sure, each of these stages will also bring tears, joy, and some grief. But that’s okay because I also know that with it will come a deeper understanding of one another, profound conversations, discovery, and spiritual connectedness. And while I know that I will grieve what was, as we all do, I am also excited about what is to come.
I love my daughter with my whole heart, and if loving her in the way God intended means that I will grieve during certain milestones and chapters, that’s okay for me.
Because deep down I know that what was can never be again, but the future possibilities are endless.
And so, I will continue mothering the best way I know how—an emotional, joyous, but intensely grateful mess, while we both learn along the way.
Written By Tiera Parker