My son, Ethan, is 10 years old. He’s never been the type to act impulsively, fueled by testosterone to jump off high places. Instead, he evaluates the height, considers the risks, and then makes a thoughtful decision about whether to leap.
Ethan is kind-hearted and sensitive, often tearing up at the same movie scenes that touch me. He’s reflective, always assessing potential dangers. He checks the depth of the pool before diving in and openly shares his feelings with me and his father, ensuring we know when something troubles him. If you think I’ve been fortunate, you’re correct—although his younger sister tends to make up for his calmness by testing our limits.
But he’s turning 11 soon, and then 12. This transition signals the impending arrival of testosterone, and I’m filled with dread.
I’ve caught glimpses of what’s to come. His occasional outbursts—like when he feels something is unjust or when he refuses to tidy up his room—have shown me a hint of the changes ahead. Just the other day, during a climbing session, he began shouting encouragement with such intensity that it took me by surprise. It was as if he had momentarily lost control. His teacher remarked on the fervor of his yelling, and later, when I asked him how it felt, he admitted, “It was wild, but kind of fun.” Ah, the power of testosterone—wild and exhilarating.
I worry that once puberty hits, he might transform from the sweet, inquisitive child I cherish into someone unrecognizable. I dread the thought of his once cheerful smiles being replaced by sullen expressions when I ask about his day, or his comforting hugs turning into awkward avoidance. I envision his youthful face becoming more angular, his appetite expanding to consume all the food in the house, and the delightful scent of childhood morphing into something less pleasant. I’m not ready for the chatter to fade into silence, or for the open conversations to turn into locked doors and restricted internet access.
I fear the anger, moodiness, and hairiness that often accompany this stage of life. I can’t even imagine the magazines and other surprises I might find hidden in his room. None of that represents who he truly is.
Yet, I recognize the importance of this change. It’s natural and necessary for him to carve out his independence. There will be aspects of his growth that I will appreciate—his newfound confidence, his achievements, and his journey to discover his identity. Watching him grow taller than me will be a mix of pride and strangeness.
I will embrace those moments. But for now, I find myself holding him a little tighter, cherishing his soft cheeks and listening intently to his still-unchanged voice. I’ll encourage his playful banter and off-key singing, making sure to soak up these memories for the times ahead when he may not need me as much. I’ll prepare for the days when all I hear from him are grunts and demands for money, and when he starts pulling away. For now, I will hold on to what we have.
If you’re interested in navigating similar challenges, be sure to check out our other blog posts, like the one on couples’ fertility journeys for intracervical insemination at Make a Mom. You might also want to explore Understanding Privacy Notices at our fertility clinic for valuable insights. Additionally, Healthline offers excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
This article reflects on the emotional journey of a mother facing the challenges of her son approaching puberty. It captures her fears of losing the sweet, sensitive boy she knows as he transitions into adolescence, highlighting the complexities of parenthood during this transformative time.