I'm convinced that there is no greater heartache than raising teenagers. I can't describe the feeling that permeates my thoughts, my soul, and my gut. It's like watching a precious memory that you've treasured for your entire life fading from view.

July 22, 1990. The images are etched into the recesses of my memory like no others. I can still recall in vivid detail the look on his face the moment he was born. As I approached the doctor to hold my son for the first time, his perfect, untainted face gazing back into mine. At that moment, he raised an eyebrow, crinkled his nose and shot me a look as if to say "So, what the hell was THAT all about". I think of that moment a lot, and how I, a soldier on duty in Germany at the time, was brought to tears by the miracle of life that had just unfolded before me. That amazing moment of awareness in his eyes, only moments old. I have seen no greater miracles on the face of this amazing Earth, and I know that I never will again.

That moment was 17 years ago. My son now stands 6'3" at full slouch, and he still shoots that same look at me on a regular basis. I get lost in that moment every time, transported back to that scene of purity, innocence and confusion. Of course, when he looks at me with eyebrow raised now it's usually a silent protest of some unreasonable request that I've encumbered him with, or more often than not, a sign of some degree of irritation that I am still within his view.

Seventeen years has changed a lot, but deep inside I know that this is just a blink for the universe. I think back to his joyful laughter as a toddler discovering the world around him, to the cries of anguish when the world seems pitted against him, and the tears begin to stream down my face at the lost moments that I was too busy to enjoy, and are now gone forever.

Now he talks of politics with a degree of sarcastic cynicism in his maturing voice. His view of the world around us is a pessimistic one. In vain, I try to offer a different perspective, and tell him that he's too young to be so jaded, but it seems no use.

I recall complaining about lugging around the brick of a child carrier that somehow new parents are still talked into buying. I can see him as a small child extending his hand towards mine as we walked. It's a wonderful gift to see the world again through the eyes of a child. I know now that I won't ever have that again, but I relent and smile at the prospect of perhaps my son one day

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about Parenting teenagers: learning to let go?
We want to hear your view. Write now!