Dear Friend,
This isn’t a letter to my child—it’s a reflection on the whirlwind of raising a teenager. Let’s be real: teenagers aren’t exactly interested in heartfelt letters from their parents. So, instead, I’m sharing my thoughts with you.
Yesterday marked my son’s 16th birthday, and similar to his earlier milestones, it felt deeply significant. But more than just the number, I sensed the weight of this day well ahead of time.
When he turned 13, I penned him a letter. It was akin to having a buzzing swarm of bees inside me—not painful, yet agitated and urgent. Initially, the feeling seemed like anxiety, but soon morphed into something more like anticipation.
As days rolled by, I found myself mulling over my emotions. With teenagers, there’s ample time for reflection, but communication can often fall by the wayside. So, I sat with those buzzing bees, observing them. They embodied a mix of excitement, uncertainty, and an underlying sadness that I couldn’t quite articulate. And so I held onto them, unsure of how to express what I felt.
On the day of his birthday, I experienced a familiar sense of loss, reminiscent of when my own mother passed away—a flood of words trapped inside me, desperately wanting to be spoken. Maybe those bees were trying to escape.
Unfortunately, my son’s 16th birthday was pretty low-key. It was a school day, and he opted against a party. We couldn’t manage a family dinner, especially with twin toddlers in the house. Isn’t 16 supposed to be a monumental occasion?
I gifted him a gym membership to give him some independence and set up a retirement account—practical choices, really. I also indulged him with a slice of cookie cake and took him to an R-rated film that tackled mental health. He chose it.
During the drive to the movie, silence hung in the air—awkward and uncomfortable for me. Proud of myself for respecting his space, I tried to embrace the “just be present” approach. However, silence enveloped us again on the way back, punctuated only by him correcting my choice of the word ‘commodity’.
And still, I felt those bees stirring within me.
Once we returned home, my husband was tucked in bed, and my son headed upstairs for a shower. That was it. I stood alone in the dark, feeling disoriented after a thought-provoking movie and a trivial debate about vocabulary. Just me and my buzzing thoughts.
At that moment, I realized those bees represented my unspoken words, clamoring to be let out. But I held back because they were tinged with sadness.
Why am I sharing this, you ask? Because I can’t keep it in any longer. As the wise Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” The burden of those bees became too heavy to carry.
It’s vital we talk about the challenges of this phase of motherhood. It’s tough. The relationships we share with our teenage sons can be complex. Love? Oh, there’s no shortage of that. I have an abundance of love for my son, but that doesn’t make our interactions any easier—whether he’s talkative or reserved, it’s a struggle.
If you’re in the thick of this difficult time and feel like you’re the only one, know you’re not alone. Other parents are also grappling with how to connect with their teens, whether they seem breezy or burdened. It’s heart-wrenching to witness our children navigate tough lessons in life.
This won’t last forever. Changes will come. I believe that. Do you?
I think I’m finally ready to express to my son the depth of my love for him, even if he won’t fully grasp it until much later.
So here’s to all the other parents out there—keep going! You’ve got this!
For those interested in family planning, you may want to check out this resource on home insemination, and if you’re seeking medical advice, this is a great authority on the topic. Additionally, for information on pregnancy, visit this link.
Summary
Raising a teenager can feel like an emotional whirlwind, filled with unexpressed feelings and challenges in communication. As we navigate this complex phase of motherhood, it’s crucial to acknowledge the struggles and know we’re not alone in the journey. Love for our children remains abundant, even when connections become strained.