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Sunday, May 9, 2010

Letter To My Son


On an unseasonably warm spring day more than 18 years ago, I said goodbye to my life as a "dink" (double income, no kids) a popular description for our type in the 1990's.  My schedule was not that different than any other day. An early morning doctor's appointment.  Check.  Head into the office after. Check.  Admitting to myself a small pang of sorrow over the recent necessary departure of my black T-top sports car. Check.  Looking forward to an eight week absensce from the testosterone driven business I worked in.  Check!  A break from wearing the high heels I could no longer see.  Check!!  Indescribable excitement that my life was about to change forever.  Check!!!

Any thoughts to the possibility it was all about to change in less than 3 hours?  Uh...no...wait...what...I'm not ready...I still have 2 weeks...right?  I remember things seemed to move in slow motion shortly after I arrived at the doctor's office.  In the hour that followed many of the details are no longer clear in my mind.  But, I do remember driving to the hospital with your dad and being hooked up to machines and lots of talking.  Followed by so many questions and words such as now, distress, toxemia, induce and the doctor is on her way. Fear and anxiety began to creep in, but I didn't cry.  I felt somehow, it would be ok.

And it was.  At 11:05 am on that warm sunny day, I became a mom.  Mother to a son.  A few weeks ago you turned 18 and I cried a lot over your birthday weekend and the days that followed.  It has felt like a switch has been turned on inside that I can't control.  I cried when I folded over the flap to close your card.  I cried later in the day when I gave it to you.  You said it would be ok.  I think you will be ok.  I worry that the ache in my heart will linger indefinately.  Eighteen years went by in a flash.  One minute I was holding you for the very first time, the next minute you came home from football practice to grab a quick shower and head back to school to sit for your senior portrait.  This week has been a blur of plans and preparations for all of your upcoming events that are the launching pad into adulthood.  This morning I am sleep deprived from a late night up waiting while you attended your last high school prom.



In between memories of the minutes that ticked by.  You standing beside your beloved "Wild Thing" who's enormous head caused you a bit of a fright, while I held you close, boarding the big yellow bus for kindergarten, hayrides and choosing just the right pumpkin every fall, your coach saying you're up at bat, listening to you practice French, taking you to get your driver's license.  And, all the other million minutes.  How many times I wonder had I held my breath when you took a hit under the bright lights of the stadium, while I sat on cold metal bleachers on chilly autumn nights cheering you on.  The sadness that I felt walking out of the stadium on the night of your very last game.


The emotions and knowledge that everything is about to change again forever is a swirling combination of joy, pride, excitement and profound sadness.  And, the inexplicable thoughts that I have been robbed of enough time with my first born.  I know there is likely no definition, by most any mother's standards, of enough time.  The only thing I can really say to console myself, is making the decision to leave a career that I had invested heavily in when you were little was the best thing.  For both of us.  A decision that has brought more joy than any paycheck ever could.  Having it all, I came to realize for me, meant having a million single moments with you.



                                      

I have come to the last page of the book of trucks, dinosaurs, trains, days spent on the swing set, squirt gun fights on the front lawn, sandcastle building on the beach, visits to your classroom, baseball championships, making sack lunches, gruelling football practices on hot August days, high school dances, and yes, redecorating your room.  I must find a way to write a new book with chapters that include graduation, beach week, dorm living, college...and letting go.  And, I will try to do it all without crying.

All photos courtesy of A&A and may not be copied or reproduced.

28 comments:

  1. happy mother's day!!! i love all these mom tributes.

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  2. Well...even though you're not crying...I AM!

    Happy Mother's Day!

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  3. OMG... I'm right there with you!!
    Thanks for sharing, it helps to know that everyone survives and yet where we stand right now it somehow seems impossible. Let's lean on each other for support :) I'm really going to need it because I saw you mentioned first born. I have only one, for which I'm eternally grateful!
    Happy Mother's Day!!
    XO

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  4. Your post brought tears to my eyes. I am where you were 16 years ago I suspect. My baby turned two yesterday and I already wonder where the two years went. There isn't a day that goes by where I miss those long hours at work and the salary well into the six figures that at one point in my life defined me. (Although I do miss my little convertible on nice days :) ) Motherhood really is a gift! Happy Mother's Day!

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  5. The time goes by so quickly, lovely thoughts and images....
    Karena
    Art by Karena

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  6. Now I will prepare to do a "double cry" next year when my twins turn 18! Waaa-
    pve

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  7. Don't hold back the tears they are so needed, It is a bitter sweet time. I have gone through it 3 times and we do survive but on a different level than the way it use to be. It is a different game a different playing field but still special in its own way. Did you see the video over at Kristin's blog? I think that it puts into words absolutely perfectly what we Mother's go through take a look if you have time but get out the kleenex.
    http://myuncommonsliceofsuburbia.blogspot.com/

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  8. You were able to capture in words all of the thoughts swirling in my head and feelings housed in my heart as I watch my oldest begin that walk that will take her away from us.... into a new chapter. Your job all of these years is to prepare them for this moment, but when it is time for them to fly away from the nest, they take so much of you, with them. Happy Mothers Day, dear friend. You done good..... and I imagine it takes time getting used the new chapters. When I'm there in a few short years, your words will still be with me. It was so worth it. xx P&H

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  9. aaah! And I will try to comment here without dripping tears all over my keyboard, oh wait...too late! So touching! Last night my ten year old and I watched a movie together, when I hugged her and kissed her goodnight, I started crying! I told her the last 10 years have flown by all too fast...she clearly thinks her Mom has lost it, maybe I have...good to know I am not the only one who gets wildly emotional about this stuff! I really enjoy the way you write so much! Happy Mother's Day to you!

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  10. This made me cry. As I think of my first born, a son, who is now 9 1/2. The time with him has already gone so fast. I see myself sitting here writing similar things in the blink of an eye.

    PS - I think it's ok to cry.

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  11. What a gorgeous boy! You must be so proud!

    Wishing you a very Happy Mother's Day!
    Anne

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  12. What a lot of hard things but also an amazing blessing that you got to have all those experiences. What a lovely post! Happy Mother's Day!!

    xo Terri

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  13. Happy Mother's Day from a new reader. "A Million Minutes" another a good title. Beautiful.
    Best wishes,
    BarG

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  14. Oh the joys to come!!! The first weekend home from college (our dog was so excited!), the first house, the wedding, the witnessing of a grandchild born...It's a wonderful cycle. Even just made a classroom visit to teach our granddaughter's class about worm composting. Don't waste moment being sad as there is soooo much more to come. Enjoy it all!

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  15. Beautiful...I don't know how you will do it without crying...I am now! ;)

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  16. While most every mother out there can relate to this on some level, I think nobody can appreciate this letter like your son. What a beautiful tribute. No need to cry, I really think the best chapter is about to unfold...

    Happy Mother's Day!

    Marija

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  17. Reading your post made me relive letting our son go. It is hard for a mother who loves so deeply to watch a son leave the nest. The only consolation is that they carry your values, even if it takes five to ten years to realize it! ;) And, eventually, they bring home little copies of themselves! You sound like a wonderful mother! Stop by and visit my site; I'm a new blogger joining the myriads of others trying to get a readership! graciousinteriors.blogspot.come

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  18. What a wonderful tribute that your son will carry with him the rest of his life. You are both blessed. Happy Mother's Day

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  19. What a lovely, heartfelt letter. I know my mom could relate when she had to let go of me 11 years ago (and my sister two years after that). But I know that even though both her kids are grown and "gone", she's still a mom and now that I'm no longer 18 and hormonal, I really appreciate that. Best of luck in this time of transition, doll.

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  20. I'm passing this right over to my son, DIL and daughter. Both girls have had their first borns...sons....within the last 6 months...the most recent was one week ago on Saturday. My "baby boy" is now 32 years old with his own son, and I'm reliving every moment of his life in your words. So beautifully said. My heart is wide open.

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  21. Okay, I am crying for you!!! Oh my gosh!

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  22. i was not blessed with children and i am crying!

    rebecca you have a talent with words that reach down into your readers souls. what an exquisite tribute to your darling son.
    debra

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  23. I started weeping one line into your post this morning. Such a beautifully written and touching tribute to your relationship with your son. My first child, my son Carter will be turning 17 in two weeks, and as he finishes his junior year, I have been feeling so many of the emotions that you expressed. A young child with a pirate hat, a matchbox car or a song on the radio brings me to tears-it seems that both remembering and letting go are difficult. Thank your for sharing your personal and beautiful thoughts-your son is lucky to have such a fantastic mom!

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  24. So, I'm rather new at this blogging thing. I like saying I've taken a plunge, as it went like this. Run, Jump, then look to see where I thought I was going - but - I'm already there! Anyway....I'm looking all over for who else I might "follow" and I came across you. Can't. Stop. Crying. My little guys are little, yet I know what you're talking about. then, I look up and I see that Hampton Hostess also has a Carter, like I do. Isn't it strange....that inspiration and comfort can found in unsuspecting places.

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  25. A beautiful post. My son will be 18 in two years, oh boy...

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  26. What a glorious post about your son! I just lost my brother 3 weeks ago tomorrow and it is so important to cherish every moment. You are a great mom!

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  27. Wonderful post. I, too, am a cryer. I know I'm very lucky to have my wonderful 20 year old son (and 11 year old daughter). The boy has been the killer so far for us. His dad and I are both so proud of all his accomplishments, we adore his company and miss him as he heads out with friends, to the firehall (he's a volunteer), to school, to work...we would almost do anything to have him young again and home all the time--but have to accept that we had our alone time with him and it would never be enough. We're lucky he still likes our company and we have a new relationship with him as he prepares to leave the nest for his own home....we will never be used to it! I sympathize with your tears and can't even imagine those who can't wait for their kids to leave! I feel we did cherish every moment, but somehow you'd love to do them all again! Beautiful family, congrats on raising such a fine son.

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  28. Okay, I reading this for the first time with tears running down my face. You are a woman after my heart. I like the way you think and more importantly, feel with your heart. How lucky is your son to have been raised by a woman like you!

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