Our family found its roots on a picturesque farm, where my partner Alex and I raised our three children. Our eldest, Max, is the seventh generation to call this century-old farmhouse home. We undertook a massive renovation, tearing down old ceilings, creating spacious closets, and painting every inch we could reach. There was a lot of music and laughter in those days, with our little 10-pound baby nestled in my arms or strapped to my chest. James Taylor was our go-to artist, and we often played with pronouns because it was the emotion behind the words that resonated most.
Something in the way she moves or looks my way or calls my name that seems to leave this troubled world behind.
Max’s arrival 18 years ago flipped our lives upside down. I never envisioned myself as a mother; my aspirations revolved around climbing the corporate ladder in sleek suits and sharp heels. Babysitting never appealed to me, and I had no interest in the chaotic world of diapers and strollers. And then, life took an unexpected turn.
Four children in five years.
And if I’m feeling down and blue or troubled by some foolish game, she always seems to make me change my mind.
I dove into motherhood headfirst, sporting a new, short hairstyle and embracing the comfort of spit-up stained clothes. I surrendered to late-night feedings and the constant companionship of baby powder and diaper cream. Somewhere along the line, I lost a piece of myself.
At times, the things I relied on began to feel hollow, and I found myself veering into unfamiliar territory.
In those early years, Alex and I often reminded each other, “It’s all about survival.” And it truly was. With our kids aged 6, 4, 3, and 1, there was little time left for anything else. Days felt endless, consumed with meal prep, nap schedules, and bath routines.
I would drift off to sleep before finishing a chapter of my favorite book.
Lipstick? What was that?
Fast forward 12 years, and life feels like it has sped up dramatically.
Now, as we pack Max for college, our youngest, Leo, is simultaneously boxing up his cherished stuffed animals and building kits. The days of four little ones are coming to a close. In just five years, they will all have flown the nest. Even our beloved dogs, once so sprightly, are aging—gray whiskers and creaky joints abound. As they whine at my feet for attention, I soothe them with gentle words, “I know. I know. Rest now, my loves.” After years of enduring little hands tugging at their tails and ears, they deserve their peace.
The thought of Max leaving often catches in my throat, a bittersweet lump that is more profound than sadness. It’s a strange sensation, an emotional complexity.
It isn’t what she has to say but how she thinks and where she’s been. To me, the words are nice, the way they sound.
It’s a tapestry of misty memories, from chubby baby legs to the sturdy man he has become. A collection of childhood tunes—from They Might Be Giants to “The Rainbow Connection”—that occasionally play in my mind. (“We know that it’s probably maaaagiiic…” sung in an innocent, fearless voice.) My love for sentimental ballads and Max’s enthusiasm for electronic dance music means we find common ground in Florence and The Machine during car rides.
This moment is about saying goodbye to the comfortable life we’ve built together and welcoming the adventures ahead. Who will Max become when he’s free to spread his wings? What will Leo discover about himself when he steps away from his big brother’s shadow? And who will I be now, as my role as the mother of four young children evolves?
Our options are endless.
He has the ability to reach places where no one else can find me and to remind me of the joy we’ve shared.
I want to remind him to keep up with his dental hygiene, trim his toenails regularly, and wash his sheets more often than he thinks is necessary. I want to have that conversation one last time about responsible drinking, the importance of never leaving a friend behind, and caring for himself and his loved ones. Encouraging him to eat more veggies and less fast food, advocating for himself and the causes close to his heart.
But those reminders are just echoes of what we’ve instilled in him throughout the years.
We’ve raised a strong, handsome, intelligent man.
His choices are now his own, just like mine.
As we transition into our new lives, Max and I are guiding each other. He’s showing me that as I prepare to let him go, I’m also opening myself to new possibilities.
I feel at peace whenever she’s around me, and she’s become a constant presence in my life. And whenever I’m feeling well, it’s clear she has been by my side for a long time.
Sometimes, as I drift between sleep and wakefulness, I can still catch a hint of my baby’s familiar scent. Yet, when my eyes open, that moment is lost—but the memories linger.
This bond will endure forever.
Max has always been my greatest teacher.
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Summary:
This reflective piece explores the journey of motherhood from the perspective of a mother, Emily, who recounts her experiences raising her four children on a family farm. As the eldest, Max prepares to leave for college, she grapples with bittersweet emotions and anticipates the changes that lie ahead. The narrative celebrates the lessons learned over the years while highlighting the beauty in letting go and embracing new possibilities.