I think I needed to give myself some grace this weekend. I am still trying to figure out how to be a mom of a college freshman. It has come with so many emotions. I’ve learned to sit with the opposites, and be in the messy middle. My son is doing phenomenal! He’s happy, thriving, has made an incredible group of friends and has straight A’s in his first semester of engineering. He has surpassed every wonder I’ve ever held about this transition for him, and he’s given me access to so many of the bits and pieces of his story. I am beyond happy for him… and I miss him. I want him to fly, and I know that means it may be far away as he continues his journey, and my heart wants him close. I want to take his pain away from past hurts, and I know he needs to find healing on his own.

I am a single Mom. My boys and I have lived a life separate from their father for nearly 2 years, and for my oldest, the separation began years before on an emotional level that was heartbreaking for everyone involved. The father-son relationship that ebbed and flowed and grew and shattered is currently being held by a tiny, tiny string that feels like a spider web clinging to anything it can grasp on a stormy day. I’ve experienced so much grief that I can no longer identify which hurt is more or less. Because it’s all hurt, its all grief, and its all devastating. But as my son grew and is now living a state away from me, I am able to reflect on my piece of the story, and where I am now.

I fought for my kids, and will always do so. My kids have been my priority since before they grew in my womb. I wouldn’t change a thing of the strength of that bond, but I acknowledge it may have taken a toll in some of my relationships, among other challenges. I struggled in birth and postpartum with both of my births, both physically and emotionally. Life changes you when modern medicine is required to save you. Once I decided I was worth fighting for, and accepted the fight my body endured, I changed.

That’s how it goes, right? Caterpillars become butterflies, tadpoles become frogs, and other animals do the same. The thing we often overlook is that those organisms basically have to die before they transform. Metamorphosis is literally a change of form or structure. Transformation must happen for survival. 

Matrescence is the process of becoming a mother. I didn’t even know that word existed when I gave birth. It involves so many changes: physiological, social, relational and even the ways we view the world and our place in it. As we birth our children, we birth ourselves. Some cultures honor that transformation, others place little emphasis on its significance. It’s taken me years to see the change, and value the journey.

Its been me and my boys for a lot of years. The three of us do everything together. We eat together, talk all the time, travel and just do all the things. We’re tight, and we’ve gotten tighter as we live just the three of us. 

But now the three of us inhabit 2 different states. And we’re still tight, and it looks very different. It feels both harder to stay tight and also easier. There is nothing better than your teenager calling you just to say hi or sending a photo of the northern lights just to share a bit of his wonder. 

I feel the pull and push more than ever. And I’m finding myself craving both. I didn’t expect part of these feelings. I cried when we moved him away, yet I feel joy knowing where he is and that he’s thriving. I expected the sad, but didn’t quite know how to hold the joy. 

That sounds weird, right? I didn’t know how to hold joy. Can a mother be happy while her child is away from her? I pondered that question and feeling for weeks. And I’ve discovered the answer…

YES. 

I raised him for this moment. He grew within me, outside of me and now apart from me. He gets to fly, and I get to be here. And I still get to be there. 

Once you become a parent you will ALWAYS be a parent. But this journey of learning how to let go and in what ways to shift while still holding on is a total mindf*ck!

I thought it was just me. I was trying to navigate the emotions and the grief and joy, all within my quiet little story. But I was so wrong. That mindf*ck isn’t just for me; my son is living it, too. And so is his younger brother. And that became so obvious as he came home this weekend.

The yearning to jump back into the old, familiar story but also not wanting to give up our new stories was screaming in silence (and sometimes not silent at all!) for 5 days! The autonomy we are all feeling is a bit baffling, for him and me and his younger brother. We are living a new story, together. But navigating the transformation is downright messy.

In recovering from my divorce, and similar to my postpartum journey, I learned that I have a voice, and how to use it in a much more authentic way. It’s taken so much work to define this new story and engage in the newness of this time of motherhood and womanhood. 

There is a difference between showing up as myself, and being able to give my best self. This weekend I was shook. Feelings of all things flooded back, parenting stuff but also divorce stuff. My trauma of abandonment and struggling to reclaim that footing felt so murky. And my son stepping back into childhood while emerging into adulthood, and grieving his own wounds with situations I cannot control or heal raged. 

I continued to show up as my (new) self. But I certainly wasn’t able to give my best self.

I will forever be grateful my bestie is traveling the same journey. Just a simple text gave me the validation that she understood, not to mention her clearly physic ability to know I was on shaky ground. No one needs to give me permission to feel how I feel, but it sure feels nice to feel understood when I am struggling to find understanding myself.

The woman I was even just a few years ago would tell probably tell me that I need to change. I need to be strong and not show weakness (aka… emotions). But instead, I’m owning this story differently. 

It’s okay that I’m on shaky ground right now. And it’s okay that I look a bit different at times. I may cry, or may not be able to process life around me as easily as before. And my focus is elsewhere, because it just is. And I may ask for grace, and I know that not everyone can give me that gift but advocating for it is what matters. 

I’m smiling today. Not just because its fall and the sun is shining, but also because I feel alive. I’m living my story by actively participating in my journey. And I’m loving hard, because I have the ability to give and receive love, and feeling that love in all the ways is what sets my soul on fire. And I am so, so grateful for the ability to feel my kids wherever they are. Because when we’re in each other’s lives, we’re home. 

I’m still trying to find where I belong, and what comes next. Tears are still flowing at times, and smiles are pure. But my nest is still very full, and my heart is feeling it all.