Go back to the time when as a new mother, you held your first child to your chest and could not believe that you had a part in producing the most beautiful and extraordinary child ever born. You could tuck your nose in the creases of his neck and inhale the most delicious smell; part Ivory Snow, part spit-up, but mostly just him. The most perfect time for me was when we were alone as he nursed in the early morning hours and the only light was the flicker from the T.V. screen. It was our special time when I dreamt of only special things for my son. I and I alone would always protect him from the evils of the world and he would always be happy. His little face would illuminate every time the color of the TV screen would lighten. I didn’t enjoy being sleep deprived but those times when my son and I were alone were the most special of moments. I would hug him as tight as I could and his little hand would grasp my finger and hold on as tight as he could. Those finger grasps were his hugging me back, I was certain of it. 

He would run out of pre-school every morning and straight into my arms. His grip on my neck was a Half Nelson worthy of professional wrestlers. Everyone else became unimportant for those few seconds. I was his everything and I relished those times because I knew that they would be very short lived. As his universe expanded and his sense of self grew, I knew my importance would become less and less of a need for him. For those few years he needed me to assure him of the world’s safety while he also needed me for the most mundane of tasks. I would be the only one who was allowed to clean him up after a toilet training mishap while at the same time explaining the virtues of honesty and of being a “big boy”. He was completely enamored with me and I with him. It was a time when he felt I controlled his world and for him that was perfectly o.k. 

He would saunter down to the car after a day of elementary school and seem bewildered that the choices he made had consequences that had nothing to do with me or his dad. His thoughts and opinions were suddenly so separate from mine. He no longer wanted me anywhere near his body because he was now convinced that he was growing up and some things should be private. We no longer had as many moments of togetherness for his friends were suddenly becoming his priorities. We still had talks about safety and his responsibilities but he no longer saw things my way exclusively. He was becoming this smart, savvy little man who had his own ideas of what happiness was and how he would approach the world. He still felt the need to hug me every now and then and I treasured those hugs, but they were short and too the point. He needed to know and feel that I was still there when and if he needed me. I could see it in his eyes, this new uncertainty of just where he was going and who he was becoming. 

Middle School was a time of unrest in our relationship. The little boy who promised me he would never leave me and love me forever, now wanted nothing and I mean nothing to do with me. Everything out of my mouth was lame and God forbid we were ever seen together. He would walk 5 steps ahead of or behind me, just so no one would ever think he would be so uncool as to be with his mother. If I wanted a hug, I would have to beg or just grab him if he walked by, unsuspecting that I needed to feel his arms around me to validate the love I felt for him. Those years were so hard because I didn’t always like him, but I always loved him. He hated me or so it seemed. We didn’t talk, we yelled and his independence and confidence staggered me. This man-child was moving on and leaving me in the dust. I became an ATM and a ride. My opinions and feelings about his activities fell on deaf ears. I watched from a distance as he matured and grew into a very secure young man.

I got my son back when he reached high school. He seems to yell less and listen more. We will have these great discussions about where he sees himself going to college and how he envisions his future. He grew into this hulking man and excels both in the classroom and in the sports arenas. He is well respected by his peers and the faculty finds him to be a fine young man. He decided that his goal in high school was to excel in the three sports he played and to also be accomplished in the classroom. This left little time for girls and there were moments when I felt that he should have another woman besides me to love him, but he was secure in his decision to concentrate on getting into a good college. The few relationships he had ended after a few months because he couldn’t spend the time nurturing another aspect of his very full life. He spent his four years working hard at making a name for himself. People know him not only for his athletic pursuits, but also for his character. He and he alone made it so that he got accepted into an Ivy League College. My husband and I were there to support him, but he did it all on his own. He made the choices and the sacrifices.

So many parents take credit for the accomplishments of their children and I find this amazing. I will take credit for his conception and birth but after that, the credit goes all to him. I look at this man in front of me and I can’t believe that the time I have left with him under my roof is down to months. He will leave in August so that he can start his college football career and his career as a college student. I hug him more now than I have in the past few years because I have too. I have to get in my quota of hugs because he’ll never really be my little boy anymore. His hand which use to clutch my finger is now tightly wound around a football. I need a step stool to look him in the eye and that delicious baby smell is now one of sweat and aftershave. He still is my baby and that won’t ever change, but my role as mother is taking on new dimensions because he is entering manhood and being a mother of a man is so different than being a mother to a boy. 

I’m letting go of my son. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Protecting him from the evils of the world is no longer in my control. Teaching him responsibility and the thrill of “being a big boy” is no longer my role. Making sure he is safe, eating green vegetables and taking his vitamin all seems so silly now. He’ll begin to make all his own choices and I will continue to be supportive but my hopes for him will have to take a back seat to the hopes he has for himself. I’m letting go of my son……. Letting go of that little face, those chubby arms around my neck and his belief that somehow I could make everything o.k.!! I’m letting go of my son...