Here we are, you on the brink of manhood, yearning to break free from the little boy you once were (and from my hugs every time I reach out to you), while I stand by, observing you with a mix of pride and heartache.
This journey is tough for me, perhaps even more so than it is for you. I know it’s a natural phase for you to gradually push me away. I anticipated this moment, but I never prepared for the ache that accompanies it. I miss the bond we shared when you were younger.
Being your mom has been the most rewarding challenge of my life. It’s nothing like the sleepless nights when I first brought you home, struggling together through those early days. Your toddler tantrums seem trivial compared to the emotional rollercoaster of parenting a teenager.
Maybe I shouldn’t share how much I long for the days when you’d run around without a care in the world, excitedly yelling at the sight of a frog. I know you’ve grown, but there’s a part of me that wishes I could revive those moments just a bit.
I’m doing my best—truly, I am—to be a supportive parent while also allowing you the space to breathe. I realize that if I suffocate you with control, our relationship could falter. Yet, I worry that if I hold back too much, I might lose you in other ways. Finding the balance between your independence and the guidance you still need is exhausting, and some days I feel like I’m failing.
It’s a challenge not to be overly emotional when I help you with your tie, or when I see you trying hard at something yet feeling inadequate. I resist the urge to micromanage your life, to follow you around, and to intervene whenever you stumble. I created you, but I must remember you are your own person, and that’s a hefty realization.
Watching you grow, experience love, and even hearing you mutter “you too” after I say I love you pulls at my heartstrings. Your eye rolls and the back-and-forth banter can be frustrating, making me want to scream and keep you from moving too fast into adulthood.
I want nothing but the best for you, yet letting go is necessary. You need to carve out your own path and figure out who you want to be, all while I hold on to my values. You might see me as overprotective, and you’re right—I am. I’m not here to be your friend; I will be a firm mom until you’re ready to stand on your own two feet. Once you start setting your own rules, we both risk losing sight of each other.
You’re growing up, and I believe in your potential. I can’t be by your side every moment, and I won’t always know your actions (as much as I might try). Accepting this reality is tough, but it’s essential.
I’ll always be here for you, even if not physically present. You’ll face challenges where I can’t help you back up. You need to learn from your mistakes and address them in your own way, even if that looks different from what I envision. I’ll need your reminders about that truth more than once.
I apologize that you have to navigate this journey with me for the first time. I wish I had all the answers. I may stumble, but I won’t ever apologize for loving you fiercely.
Please promise me that you’ll go out there and make it meaningful, that you’ll be kind, and that you’ll live your best life. I will do my utmost to let you do it your way, even if it’s challenging for both of us.
Warmly,
Mom
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