"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope
to
give our children. One is roots, the other, wings."
-Hodding Carter
My youngest son turned 18 today. I am filled with
images of him as an infant who came into the world
with gusto! A busy toddler with things to do and people
to see! I remember a little boy passionate about
baseball and thrilled to put on his catcher gear. And
now, a young man embarking on adulthood and
heading off to college in just a few months.
When my son got his much hoped for early
acceptance to college, I was playfully singing, "We're
going to Cal Poly! We're going to Cal Poly!" And
serious-minded as my son is, he looks at me with that
deer-in-the-headlights expression and says, "Mom!
You're not going with me!" Oh, but how I wish I could.
Well, not really. I do have a life of my own. But there
are those wistful moments.
How does a mother begin to express the feelings
coursing through her as she faces that inevitable
empty nest? I am so proud of him and excited for him.
And yet the tears are streaming because it's really
hard to face the prospect of letting go.
I had a client a few years ago that had dedicated
herself full-time to raising four awesome children. Her
youngest children, twin boys, were at the stage where
she was realizing they would soon leave the nest. She
said to me with great angst, "I feel like I'm running out
of time! Have I taught them everything they need to
know? What if I've forgotten something important?" I
think this captures a common sentiment of mothers
who are facing an empty nest.
And then there is that awful second guessing game:
Did the divorce do irreparable harm? Or, Has my
unhappy marriage left indelible marks? What if I'd
stayed home with them? Or, Did I do them some
kind of disservice by staying home? It seems no
matter what our choices, we worry it was the wrong
one.
Would've. Could've. Should've. Oh, how we torture
ourselves. It's the perfect mother syndrome. I confess
to having had one of those white-picket-fence dreams
about having the perfect family life, being the perfect
mother and my children having a perfect father. I had
imagined my children having parents that grow old
together, modeling a perfect, loving, healthy
relationship.
Well, my life fell devastatingly short of that scenario.
For years I worried about the impact of the nightmare-
that-was-my-life during some of their formative years.
As time goes on, I've become increasingly convinced
that there is no such thing as a perfect life (although I
have a friend who I've always thought had "perfect"
down pat).
Even those perfect-on-the-surface relationships and
families have issues underneath it all. We are all
members of the same human family with foibles and
failures and frenzies. Somewhere along the line, I
learned to accept myself as a "good enough" mother.
What's important are the values we model for our
children as we deal with the hardships and the
setbacks and the disappointments and the grief. In
truth, sometimes inadvertently we teach them valuable
lessons by showing them, in sharp contrast, what they
don't want! In spite of all my worrying throughout the
years, I look at both of my children who are now young
adults, and say, "Wow. I must have done something
right."
I know that others have not been so lucky and seeing
our kids through young adulthood can be as trying as
the teen years. Our adult children are individuals who
must find their own way. As hard as it is to stand by
and watch as our children make mistakes, we must
respect their right to make them.
We need only to look at ourselves and remember how
much we have learned from our own mistakes and
that there was a time when we stood in that place of
defiance, saying in effect, "You can't tell me what to
do!" My oldest son, who is twenty, has politely but
firmly let me know that I cannot live his life for him! And
of course he is right.
Brian Tracey says, "If you raise your children to feel
that they can accomplish any goal or task they decide
upon, you will have succeeded as a parent and you
will have given your children the greatest of all
blessings."
I have endeavored to give my children wings. Now it is
time for me to step out of the way so they can spread
those wings and fly.
