By: Samantha Miller
Updated: November 20, 2023
Originally Published: May 28, 2016
It all unfolded in the blink of an eye.
The first six weeks of my child’s life felt like a lifetime packed with intensity. Each moment was filled to the brim with effort, sweat, and overwhelming emotions, not to mention the sheer exhaustion that comes from sleepless nights.
As I leaned over at his first birthday celebration, my partner by my side, blowing out the candles on his cartoon-themed cake, I realized I had transformed into a different person from the one I was just a year prior. He had evolved from a tiny infant into an energetic toddler, captivated by balls, tunnels, and swings.
In the years that followed, some days felt like a slow crawl while others sped by. His little legs grew longer, his cherubic cheeks began to sculpt into defined cheekbones, and his hair thickened. Baby teeth were replaced by a set of impressively straight adult teeth. Before I knew it, he had transformed into a real boy.
I confess, amidst the chaos of laundry, sports practices, robotics tournaments, math homework, science fairs, and Minecraft sessions, I lost track of time. I understood that childhood would fly by, but somehow I forgot that once those fleeting years disappeared, they were gone forever. I overlooked the bittersweet truth that comes with parenthood: the simultaneous gratitude for our children’s growth and the painful recognition of the moments we lose with each passing year.
It genuinely felt like it all changed overnight. Although my firstborn crossed into tweenhood a few years back, he still felt like my little boy until recently. In the last few months, however, something shifted. He began staying up late, restless yet tired, craving more privacy and independence. He now cooks for himself, spends more time at school and practice than at home, and while he still checks in with me to say hello or goodnight, he has clearly ventured into a new phase of life.
The transition was swift; it was as if the years vanished like a special effects trick. Now he towers over me, filled with secrets, dreams, and fears that I can only guess at since he keeps them to himself. Our hugs, once comfortable, have turned into awkward exchanges thanks to his long limbs that seem unsure of how to connect with me.
From the moment you become a mother, you know that one day you must let go of that baby. You understand that they are not yours to keep forever. If you do your job well, you will become obsolete—that’s the ultimate goal.
What nobody warned me about was how early the process of letting go begins. I assumed I had plenty of time and moments to gather, believing that when I added them all up, I’d feel a sense of completion. Instead, I find myself in a state of mild panic. He feels elusive, like sand slipping through my fingers. I keep reaching out, hoping he will look back, but naturally, he is eager to stride forward on those long legs that leave me in awe. I remind myself that he’s still my boy and my baby, yet he belongs to himself and the world now, and I must begin to loosen my grip.
At thirteen, I ask for kindness from the universe. I’m striving to be a good mother, trying not to hover or hold him back. I close my eyes and turn my head, hoping he will navigate this journey gently, knowing I won’t always be able to save him when he stumbles. This is the toughest aspect of motherhood: acknowledging the necessity of letting go, recognizing that I can’t shield him from heartache or setbacks, and finding the grace to accept this while releasing him into the world.
I feel like I’m on a rapid descent of a roller coaster—the rush of wind knocking the breath from my lungs, where laughter seems impossible. My instinct is to cling on tightly, but I hope I’ll muster the courage to raise my hands in the air and enjoy the ride ahead. I hope he can, too.
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Summary:
The author reflects on the rapid passage of time as their child grows from a baby into a young boy, emphasizing the bittersweet nature of parenting—balancing gratitude for growth with the pain of loss as children become independent. The transitions occur swiftly and unexpectedly, leaving parents to grapple with their own feelings of letting go while encouraging their children to thrive.