My son sits nervously on the vinyl bench, his hands tightly clasped in his lap. He’s excited about getting a second piercing in his ears, but needles have never been his favorite. He even took the initiative to call the tattoo shop himself to check if they could perform piercings on minors — a present request for his upcoming 17th birthday.
Watching him there transports me back to his 8th birthday when he got his ears pierced for the first time. He was just as anxious then. We wandered around the mall for what felt like an eternity, giving him multiple pep talks to reassure him before he finally allowed anyone near him with the piercing gun.
This time, however, it’s a hollow needle instead of a gun. He conducted all the research, made the calls, and despite his nerves, he confidently took a seat. The only thing I had to do was sign the consent form because he’s still under 18. He’s doing this all on his own.
The contrast between my little boy and this almost-adult hits me like a ton of bricks. In just one more year, I won’t be part of moments like this at all. I swallow hard as that familiar wave of anxiety washes over me — the nagging thought that has haunted me for months: I’m running out of time with him.
When we have our children, their journey to adulthood feels like a distant reality. And indeed, it is a long, challenging, yet beautiful road from the moment they enter our lives to when they eventually leave our homes. While I’ve experienced every single one of those 17 years, I often feel like I blinked, and here we are.
This realization shouldn’t be surprising. Time is relentless, and it’s not as though I expected him to remain a child forever. Yet he isn’t just any child; he’s my son. I’m not just any parent; I’m his mother, and I desperately wish for more time to guide him.
I reflect on my visions from when he was small—the ideals of the mother I aspired to be, the dreams of all the activities we would share, and the years I thought I had to make it all happen. Now, so much of that time has passed. Overall, I believe I’ve done a decent job — not flawless, but good enough. Yet, I can’t shake the question: Has it been enough?
On this birthday, the ticking clock is louder than ever. Have I imparted all the lessons I needed to? Have I nurtured his talents to their fullest potential? Have I given him the strength to spread his wings when the moment arrives? Have I maintained our bond strong enough for him to want to return home?
Part of me feels accomplished, while another part feels a profound sense of loss as my little one edges closer to adulthood. I find myself torn between wishing I could relive it all and being grateful for the journey.
What resonates most with me now is the urgent need to hold onto these years tightly while we still have our children with us. I’m not suggesting that every moment of parenthood is enjoyable; many days are challenging. The years, however, are fleeting, and we have only a limited window to create lasting memories. We can’t rewind and redo — we get one shot at their childhood.
So perhaps we should prioritize what truly matters more frequently. Maybe we can push through our exhaustion when our teens want to engage in late-night conversations instead of rushing them to bed. Perhaps we should carve out time for one-on-one outings, more family activities, and shared experiences before our family unit inevitably shifts.
We must seize these precious years while they are right in front of us, for before we know it, they’ll have slipped away. Embrace each moment with both hands before it’s too late. Make the most of the time you have while your children are still children. Don’t wait until you’re staring at a grown-up version of your baby, wondering where all the time went.
For more insights on parenting and navigating these emotional milestones, check out this excellent resource that explores the intricacies of growing up. And if you’re interested in the journey to parenthood, learn more about home insemination and the IVF process with resources like this one from Parents.