“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)
Surprised By Joy 
“leave the rest to God”–yes for that, Wynne. Cutie O and D. I have faith O will manage well in middle school. And I’m just a daughter, not a mother, so my Mama can relate this much.🤗
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I don’t have kids Wynne but what I see of yours is that they are wise already 🤗 and you are a great parent.
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It is as you say, Wynne.You get a second chance as a grandparent, if you are lucky. And when the grandchildren are small, they will call you mom once or twice, and your heart will fill with a brief repeat of a very special joy.
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What a good and timely post. I’m struggling with what I see as a, not just changing, but fading relationship with one of my kids.
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That cover picture is precious. As is the Winnie the Pooh quote. My kids are adults now, almost middle-aged, and I still miss their baby/little kid selves. I’m so glad you have learned to stop and do things with them. It is my biggest regret that I was often “too busy.” They tell me that I may not have spent quantity time with them, but I did spend quality time with them. (Maybe they are just being kind) xo
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“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.” … Amen Wynne!
As a parent perhaps the most difficult times to say, “Let go and let God” is with our children. The blessed memories we shared together with them help calm the small “g”s, and the last two words my mother spoke to me comfort my soul with God’s eternal promise . . . “Later Freddy”
Keep Looking Up ^ … His Best is Yet to Come!
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Cute photo Wynne.
‘Letting go’ can be so hard, can’t it? I’ll pass on a message from my much missed therapist, who told me not to compare my parenting skills of years ago with the present. Attitudes, both societal and personal, change. “So concentrate on being the parent you want to be today and know you did your best”.
I still think that is good advice.
“Being the best parent we can be”.
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Kids just grow us so quickly, don’t they? I love that, despite twinge of grief, you can recognize that you said “yes” more than now and have been fully present as they explore their world and discover themselves.
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I completely understand your feelings of grief. I believe that’s why it’s hard for me not to refer to my two as my babies, because it’s the way I still see them. I realize and respect that they’re now adults, but they will always be my babies.
Enjoy the ride, Wynne! Enjoy every bit of motherhood.🙏🏽💕🌺
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What beautiful musings and reflections on parenting, learning, and growing Wynne. Your kids are very fortunate to have you and that kind of parenting. 🙏💞
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That’s helpful, Wynne. I think there is something of grief in knowing that we’re not the people we were and our children/ grandchildren aren’t the people they were – with the resulting relationships…. Perhaps we can live with and perhaps overcome that grief by learning, appreciating and being grateful for the new people we have all become and are becoming… and the evolving and hopefully more mature relationships that come.
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Every change comes with a loss of identity. That hit me hard. Thank you for once again posting something so thought-inspiring.
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This is wonderful, Wynne! “creating a life worth growing out of,” I love that, so beautifully profound.
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I had to add, that photo is ‘super’ cute!!
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Oh this is beautifully tender, Wynne. When I was explaining grief recently to T – in the context of my dearly departed mom, sister and cat – I said that grief and loss is one of the price we pay for love and happiness in life. And to enjoy what we have, including those chubby limbs, grabbing our kids by the hips, and those moments of invitation to play and when we’re the centre of their universe. I think he got it and it was a reminder to me too that how lucky are we to experience love and joy and kids in this life – so much so that we are reminded with pangs of grief through each stage.
That photo of a younger Miss O and Mr D says it all. A life full of love, joy and fun – thanks to you!
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very cute 👌
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I love the heartfeltedness (not a word but should be) of this post, Wynne. Saying “yes” when you’ve got other things to do is very tough…but as you point out, it can help stave off regrets later. We’ve all cried to “Cats In the Cradle” before!
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