When I embarked on the journey of parenthood, the idea of “tweendom” was something I’d never really considered. In fact, I hadn’t even heard the term until my first daughter was born over a decade ago. I was fully prepared for toddlers and young children, and even thought ahead to their teenage years, but the transitional phase before menstruation and dating completely slipped my mind. However, just recently, I realized that I, in fact, have a tween.
Ella is now in fifth grade. I used to fret about her being overly expressive with her feelings, but that has changed. She often sits beside me in the car, sometimes looking at me with affection, other times lost in her own world, singing along to her favorite songs. She has moments of warmth toward her younger sisters, yet she also seeks solitude from them. I’ve noticed her body language shift too; she crosses her arms when changing clothes and asks me about life and emotions more frequently.
Last year, she initiated “The Talk,” which made me reconsider how I communicate with her, even in non-verbal ways. While I try to maintain modesty, I’ve been careful not to overly shield myself from her when dressing, and we’ve talked about topics like menstruation and the challenges of growing up.
Despite all my preparation, I’ve learned that even the best-laid plans can go awry.
Ella woke up quietly, marking her half-birthday—exactly six months before her 11th birthday. I found her nestled in an armchair, and as I brushed my hand along her shoulder, I asked, “Are you okay?” She nodded solemnly.
Those icy blue eyes have captivated me for a decade, and I’ve watched her features evolve. Her eyebrows have darkened and thickened, reflecting her growing personality—still sensitive, yet increasingly witty.
I poured myself a cup of coffee, allowing her to wake up in peace. As I moved through the kitchen, she suddenly said, “Mom, I feel gross.”
I paused. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, looking lost. “I just feel icky, maybe itchy, or just… gross.” After a moment, she added, “I think part of it is that I feel bad for getting upset over nothing or wanting to be away from my sisters. I love them, but sometimes I just need a break, and that makes me feel guilty.”
“Why don’t you try taking a shower?” I suggested.
“I took a bath last night,” she replied quietly.
“That’s okay. I’ve showered twice in one day before,” I reassured her. “Sometimes water just helps wash away those bad feelings. Do you want to shower, or would you prefer a bath?”
“Can I take another bath?” she asked, a hint of hope in her voice.
“Of course. Or I can set up the shower, and you can just stand under it to let the water wash away everything you don’t want to hold onto.”
“I think I’d like to try that,” she decided.
We walked upstairs hand in hand. As she settled onto a small footstool from years ago, I prepped the bath. When the water was warm, I told her it was time to get in, and she thanked me softly before closing the door behind me.
By the time she came down, I was done preparing lunches. Ella wore a black dress that gracefully highlighted her slight frame. “Feeling a bit better?” I asked.
“Yes, a little,” she said quietly, combing her hair.
“Mom, do you ever feel like there’s something inside you that makes you feel empty?”
“All the time,” I replied honestly.
“I’ve been feeling like I want to cry, but I don’t know why,” she confessed.
Taking a deep breath, I struggled with how to respond. As life becomes more nuanced, the answers to “why” get increasingly complicated. I wanted to tell her that it’s okay to feel sad sometimes, but I also didn’t want to diminish her childhood innocence.
“It’s perfectly normal to feel that way,” I assured her.
She looked down, contemplating my words. “Do you want a hug?” I offered.
“Kind of yes, and kind of no,” she admitted, seeming embarrassed.
“Okay, I’m here for you.” We sat in silence as she nibbled on her toast. There was a strong urge within me to comfort her with material distractions, but I held back and focused on her needs.
“Would you like your phone?” I asked.
“I think I’d actually like that hug now,” she said, and I quickly scooped her into my arms, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. In that embrace, I realized that no matter how much she grows, she will always carry a piece of that baby I once held.
While I will always be her mother, the time when I could fix everything with simple gestures is fading. The distance between us is growing, and letting go is becoming a necessary part of our relationship. Still, even in letting go, there’s room for love and hugs.
For additional insights on parenthood and fertility, check out our other blog post on couples and their fertility journeys. You can also learn more about the right timing to use an ovulation test here, which is a trusted resource on this topic. And for those expecting, the March of Dimes offers valuable information for every stage of pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, navigating the emotional landscape of a tween can be challenging. Offering space and understanding can foster a supportive environment where they feel safe expressing their feelings, even when those feelings are hard to articulate.