Aren't limited to children. My poor son is experiencing a profound shift in his personal journey through parenthood. A couple of days ago, he was helping his three and a half year old daughter put her shoes on and thought he had the wrong child. "Wait a minute - what happened to my baby girl? These aren't BABY feet anymore!" Bless him, he looked for her baby feet and they weren't to be found. As a matter of fact, wherever the baby FEET went, so did the baby hands and the baby face. He said he looked hard at his daughter, "she's not the same anymore Mom," he choked, "what happened to my little baby, there's a little Girl here now." He grieved and he doesn't like this change one tiny bit. "Make it stop Mom!" I want a Do-Over - can't we just point the remote at her and hit rewind, maybe yours will work cuz mine isn't. Every time I point and click at her she just looks at me like I grew a second head! It's not supposed to happen like this." Well Son, it does happen just like this. This is why I told you when she was born to strap yourself in tight and hold on for the ride, cuz once she takes her first breath of air, she'll be off and running and it doesn't stop." Then I reminded him he grew up on me. "Yeah but I don't remember that so it doesn't count."
I did the only thing a mother to her grown son can do, I listened while he poured his heart and his grief out. I listened to his fears, all the what if's and the "she really will be a teenager won't she" and "tell me again why I can't lock her in the basement and not let her date? Tell me why I can't pick her husband - and don't you dare tell me some day she will be wearing bras - really Mom, it might be funny sometimes but this isn't one of those times, I can't handle that today, my heart just can't handle it - Mommmmm, what can I do?"
"The only thing you can do Son, hold her, love her, cherish every second you can with her. Make memories, take pictures, make recordings of her voice," - he cut in, "What?! Her voice is going to change too?"
"Yes Will, her voice is going to change too." Silence. Then, "I'm not ready for this." More silence. Then a sniffle. Then a small voice, "DaaaAAaadddd, c'mon!" and he had to go. Yes, he really had to go, didn't want to miss a second of anything with her. "Love you Mom - sorry I grew up."
"I'm not, just look at you now! I love you too." Then we both hung up. I knew the place he was in, the awe, the overwhelming feelings every parent has when they watch their child take their first steps up to the next phase of their life. I smiled to myself and remembered a little boys baby feet, a little boys voice, a little boys head on my shoulder as he slept.
And I grieved too.
I did the only thing a mother to her grown son can do, I listened while he poured his heart and his grief out. I listened to his fears, all the what if's and the "she really will be a teenager won't she" and "tell me again why I can't lock her in the basement and not let her date? Tell me why I can't pick her husband - and don't you dare tell me some day she will be wearing bras - really Mom, it might be funny sometimes but this isn't one of those times, I can't handle that today, my heart just can't handle it - Mommmmm, what can I do?"
"The only thing you can do Son, hold her, love her, cherish every second you can with her. Make memories, take pictures, make recordings of her voice," - he cut in, "What?! Her voice is going to change too?"
"Yes Will, her voice is going to change too." Silence. Then, "I'm not ready for this." More silence. Then a sniffle. Then a small voice, "DaaaAAaadddd, c'mon!" and he had to go. Yes, he really had to go, didn't want to miss a second of anything with her. "Love you Mom - sorry I grew up."
"I'm not, just look at you now! I love you too." Then we both hung up. I knew the place he was in, the awe, the overwhelming feelings every parent has when they watch their child take their first steps up to the next phase of their life. I smiled to myself and remembered a little boys baby feet, a little boys voice, a little boys head on my shoulder as he slept.
And I grieved too.