When I first met my son I had known him a moment and loved him a lifetime. I held him to my chest for as long as I could, but he had to be taken away shortly after. The start of sharing my heart with the world, and a little, I let go.
When I moved my son from our room into his own, I smiled at the thought of having our room back, yet I ached at his cot no longer in the window, and a little, I let go.
When My husband and I went on our first child free date, I couldn’t wait to have some ‘us’ time again. I left a list and my brain back at home with thoughts of him for the remainder of the evening, and a little, I let go.
When I dropped my son off to daycare for the first time I thought of all the things I could finally get done that day. I sat in the car outside for the longest time, a cave of sadness, the stories that would become his own. No longer on my hip and yet I felt heavier, and a little, I let go.
When I turned his night light off and said goodnight, I stood in his doorway expecting a small protest, it didn't come. Part of me felt relief, and the unexpected part of me felt nostalgia for all the times he asked me to stay, and a little, I let go.
And soon there will be school, at the recent open day I stood there among a sea of little summer faces in winter and my eyes started filling up. The usual pre warning of a mild sting didn’t come, I just started crying, I was that Mum.
When I look into his eyes, all oceans and daybreak, I know it’s not the letting go that saddens me… I can’t wait to watch him grow. It’s all the things that don’t announce their departure, it’s the push and pull of it all, the sparkle he has, the one I won’t always be there to help him find should he lose it.
Please don’t lose it.
But we have to step back so they can step in. We have to let pieces of ourselves go with it.
As mothers we’re faced with this daily task, and we’re strong enough to see it through, we are. But we were never designed to master it.
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