I was the first to kiss my daughter’s forehead, to touch her tiny toes, and my finger was the first thing she held in her wee fist. And for the first two years of her life, she pretty much never let go. She held on to my fingers, my clothes, my hair, my nose and later, when she started to pull herself up, she held on to my pant legs.
It wasn’t until her younger sister came along that my oldest started exploring the world away from me. But she always found her way back to my hand.
I loved her first. And I have loved her every moment since.
My oldest daughter is moving out.
I’ve been struggling with letting go. I’ve helped her pack her bedroom, picked out furniture in storage that she can use, taught her to budget, and I’ve even given her my old favorite chair. But how do I let go? After all of these years of her little hand wrapped around my finger, (metaphorically, of course. Let’s keep some perspective here.) how am I supposed to let her go?
For twenty years I’ve been her mom, her teacher, her guide and her friend. She has been my compass, my peacemaker and the cause of many sleepless nights. She’s been with me almost half my life, and every day of hers. How do I let go?
It wasn’t until this morning that I realized: I don’t have to. I don’t need to let go.
She does.
It’s her hand that’s letting go. I’m not going anywhere. My hand will be right here when she needs it, metaphorically and physically. Just like her tiny toddler self always found her way back from exploring, so will she now come home when she needs to. It’s not letting go that I’m doing; it’s watching her live.
I viewed raising my kids as getting them to the point they would become productive members of society (the sooner the better). I’m always here for them but I hope they can use the foundation I laid to make their own way.
So far it has worked well. I am proud of all three of them.
I’ve been following you for quite some time but this is my first comment. I want to thank you for always articulating so perfectly thoughts that are bottled inside of me but can’t find their way out. Your pictures are every bit as poignant as your words. Thank you for sharing such intimate thoughts with us.
One of the very few blogs from whcih I actually anticipate posts. You are so very talented at capturing the raw human experience with a graceful eloquence.
I know that it will be different. It will be difficult at times, especially at first. But this is not the end of the book. This is a new chapter, for both of you. I know I can’t wait to read it, myself.
From the moment those little people arrive in our lives, latch onto our fingers for the first time and then promptly steal our hearts there is always that small dreaded thought lingering in the background that one day we’ll have to let them go. We can guide them through the early years, teach them the basics, impart whatever wisdom we may have and instill enough confidence in them to nuture their own self belief, but when the time comes all we can hope for is that we’ve done enough.
Although I don’t envy you reaching the stage of the journey I’ll be at with my first born in just a few short years, I can safely say having followed your blog and your tweets over the years and the various mentions of your ‘Goddesses’….You’ve done enough.
Yes, I do know how this is, although it was a long time ago that mine moved out.
We would hate it if they felt so insecure that they didn’t.
Their independence is what we really hoped they would have. They have it and we should smile at a job well done…. but, of course, it hurts, in a sweet and sour sort of way..
Real life woman. Virtual World avatar. Likes top shelf vodka, dominant men, blues, sunsets and playing darts. Dislikes insecurity, rap, small children and clowns. I'm either behind the bar or under it.
You are such an incredibly strong person.
Well said.
I viewed raising my kids as getting them to the point they would become productive members of society (the sooner the better). I’m always here for them but I hope they can use the foundation I laid to make their own way.
So far it has worked well. I am proud of all three of them.
OKAY…now it’s time to cry.
I’ve been following you for quite some time but this is my first comment. I want to thank you for always articulating so perfectly thoughts that are bottled inside of me but can’t find their way out. Your pictures are every bit as poignant as your words. Thank you for sharing such intimate thoughts with us.
One of the very few blogs from whcih I actually anticipate posts. You are so very talented at capturing the raw human experience with a graceful eloquence.
I know that it will be different. It will be difficult at times, especially at first. But this is not the end of the book. This is a new chapter, for both of you. I know I can’t wait to read it, myself.
From the moment those little people arrive in our lives, latch onto our fingers for the first time and then promptly steal our hearts there is always that small dreaded thought lingering in the background that one day we’ll have to let them go. We can guide them through the early years, teach them the basics, impart whatever wisdom we may have and instill enough confidence in them to nuture their own self belief, but when the time comes all we can hope for is that we’ve done enough.
Although I don’t envy you reaching the stage of the journey I’ll be at with my first born in just a few short years, I can safely say having followed your blog and your tweets over the years and the various mentions of your ‘Goddesses’….You’ve done enough.
Warm hugs as always.
Yes, I do know how this is, although it was a long time ago that mine moved out.
We would hate it if they felt so insecure that they didn’t.
Their independence is what we really hoped they would have. They have it and we should smile at a job well done…. but, of course, it hurts, in a sweet and sour sort of way..
This was so sweet and now I’m crying like a dork. <3
They don’t belong to you.
Pep (You lease them.)