by Lynne Griffin

Created on: May 12, 2009   Last Updated: May 13, 2009

When I was a teenager, the term letting go was a sacred term to me. It was a thing that I desperately wished my parents would do to me. Bucking wildly in my adolescent angst, I would have given the whole world to be set free. I swore in those years that I would never ever restrain my children in that way.

I held on to that belief my entire growing up years, and well into my adulthood.

Silly, silly me...

The only reason on this earth that I held onto this belief for so long is because I did not have my first child until my thirtieth year.

Before my son was born, I was ignorant of many things. Besides the huge amount of time that a baby takes up in one's life, there was one other thing. One very important thing...

Just a few minutes after his birth, I realized that I loved this little creature more than life itself. This emotion was quite foreign to me, and I was not prepared for it. The fierce protectiveness of my love overwhelmed me, and still does to this day, even though my son is almost 18 years old.

In the early days of my son's existence, I noticed that I did not like to see him suffer. In fact, if anyone had caused undue pain to my baby boy, I would have gladly scratched their eyes out. It would have been worth it. My love was so fierce that sometimes is frightened me.

As I settled into motherhood, I was faced with many dilemmas. The first one being that it was hard to hand him over to anyone else to take care of him. Could they love him as I could? Could they protect him as I could? I sincerely doubted it.

But life went on, and in the real world, I had to return to work. And that meant daycare. The first time I took him there, I fretted that they would not feed him properly. I packed him a little lunch of pureed home cooking and hauled him in there bravely. He screamed and cried, but I left him there in a room full of babies, as I tearfully went to work.

Eventually, my son grew accustomed to being away from me, but I never got over it.

Sometimes at night, I would go into his room and watch him sleep and wonder why I was so lucky to have such a beautiful baby boy. He would sigh and turn over in his slumber, and my heart would swell with primitive emotion.

When he started kindergarten, I missed him terribly. My baby boy was growing, and it was hard to let go. I loved the fact that he was making new friends and having new experiences, but it scared me to death that he was out in the Real World.

In those years of elementary school, before my

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>