“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” – Winnie the Pooh

There’s a lot of grief that comes with parenting, isn’t there? And I’m not referring to the grief the kids give us. I’m talking about the variety that comes with letting go.

My 10-year-old daughter< Miss O, changed the wallpaper of my phone to be a rotation of pictures of her and her younger brother. Now every time I tap the phone, I see a picture of one of the two of them, usually as younger kids.

Along with the cute pictures comes the grief. It’s small but I feel a stab of knowing I’ll never hold them on my hip like that again. Or that the era of toddler speak that required Momma interpretation has ended. Or that we don’t have so many moments of un-self-conscious joy anymore. There are all sorts of things to mourn as I get that momentary hit of how much we’ve changed. As neuroscientist Maya Shankar explains, every change comes with a loss of identity.

When I leaned into the grief, I found three things blooming underneath.

Gratitude. My sister-in-law’s mom, Georgia, repeatedly told me a story when I first had kids. She said that when my sister-in-law was six or seven, she asked Georgia to play. Georgia laments that her reply was, “No, Honey, I’d rather read my book.”

I learned from that story to say “yes” so that I’m not talking about it when I’m 75-years-old. There have been many moments it has been hard to put down my book or stop progress on something I want to get done. But more or less, when my kids have said, “Mommy, look?” or “Mom, do you want to play ball?” I’ve said yes. So now when I feel the pangs of grief that come with letting go the younger selves of my kids, I also feel the gratitude for all the memories we have made and continue to make.

Learning. My kids have learned to walk, talk, ride a bike, read, play musical instruments, bat a ball and a myriad of other things. But the grief makes me realize how much I’ve learned as well. Things like that I had name my feelings so I could teach them how to name theirs. Also how to pitch baseballs, get grass stains from the ballfield out of pants, make slime, and clean slime from clothes too. These years have not only been full of memories but also lessons and growth too.

Faith. Miss O is heading to middle school next year. The horizon is already changing with boys, more complex relationships, and a wider circle of independent activities. The number of things I can’t control is growing exponentially larger every day.

Of course, I’ve never been able to control much. This whole journey of parenting has helped me lean into faith. To say “yes” to making memories, learning, loving and leading, and then leave the rest to God.

Grief is uncomfortable. Even the small “g” kind that I’m feeling these days. But underneath it is a whole lot of goodness that reminds me to lean in to creating a life worth growing out of.

(featured photo is Miss O and Mr. D in 2019)