Mamas, Please Don't Grieve That Your Children Are Growing Up

There it was again in my Facebook feed: a post of an adorable birthday girl with a sweet smile and a sprinkled cupcake, ready for the eating. 

And beneath it, along with the likes and loves, a sad, crying Facebook “reaction” face. 

Which breaks my heart.

Tears and sadness because this little girl is turning a year older? Because she’s “growing up?”

There is much of this on social media these days. Last times posts and “I’m so sad my baby is getting older” pieces…and crying-face emojis in reaction to a happy birthday picture.

And I get it: oh, I really, really do.

I'm the mom of two teenagers, and I've seen more "lasts" that I can count. I navigated all my firstborn's senior moments last year with a travel pack of tissues tucked in my back pocket.

I know birthdays and milestones remind us of what has been and might be no more. I know they bring to the forefront time that’s gone by and is now gone. I know they hit us--slam us!--with what we loved in the past and might miss in the future.

But we have children to raise them. We bring them into our families to teach them and nourish them and nurture them and protect them for the future we want for them.

So when they reach a moment when they are one step closer to that future, shouldn’t we be happy and joyful and incredibly grateful?

Tomorrow is promised to no one, and too many parents know that full well. What would that mom and dad who lost their child at Disney give to be able to put up another happy birthday post? What would I give to be able to share that the baby I lost to miscarriage has turned into a toddler or a tween or a twentysomething? What would any parent who’s lost a child at any age give to be able to announce to the world that they are turning another year older?

You know the answer: they would give anything. Anything. And the reactions to those announcements would be pure likes and loves and joy and celebration.

I'm not trying to tell any mom what she should feel. Not at all. I myself can’t pick my girls up or nuzzle them on my shoulder. I can–and do–hold them on my lap, but they lop over onto the chair and the floor. All of which is to say that I well understand the temptation to weep for the past and to regret all the things I’ll never do with my children again.

But I try to cherish the fact that I did do them. I had those moments, and now I am looking forward to new seasons, new joys, new blessings in the future.

Please, mamas, hear my heart as an older mom: savor the now as much as you can. Suck the life out of every moment with your children, whatever their ages. Try to notice all the things you might miss down the road. Be grateful for today and the sweet pleasures it holds. But when–-if–-tomorrow comes, try not to mourn it. It is a gift and not to be taken for granted. Make your announcement, put up your post…and then wait for others to celebrate with you.

**This post was originally published on Her View From Home. It may have been shared at some of these blog bashes.**

It Just Hit Me: I'm the Mom of a High School Senior

The other day, I realized—in a smack-you-upside-the-head kind of way—that my oldest child’s senior year doesn’t begin when she starts her last year of secondary education.

It began when she walked out of school on the last day of her junior year.

 

So that happened. And now the reality and enormity of this whole thing keeps hitting me when I least expect it, at moments like these…

1. I figured out on the last day of school that it was my daughters’ last last day together. How did I miss making A Big Deal about this? Next year, my oldest will have her last day early and on her own. I’ll still play “What Time Is It” from High School Musical 2 when they get home from school, but next year, I’ll have to play it twice. On different days.

2. All those “senior parent” notices flashing on the screen outside the high school? The ones I’ve been ignoring for 12 years? Now I have to pay attention to EVERY SINGLE ONE. 

3. I got weepy reading the instructions on some OTC cold medicine I was giving my teenager because I saw the “adult” dosage listed and realized I’ll soon have an “adult” to give it to.

4. I did not merely attend high school graduation parties this season. I scoped out buffet options and assessed traffic flow patterns and said things like, “Nice party…say, where’d you get all these tables and chairs?”

5. Digital cameras came out after this child was born. Where, exactly, are all those negatives of her as a baby? And does anyone even develop negatives anymore? Can we skip the poster board photo display and just have more dessert?

6. Everything we’ve been waiting to do around here until our firstborn’s high school graduation party suddenly needs to be done. Right. This. Minute.

7. The moment at the band concert and dance recital and graduation Sunday in church when all the seniors were recognized? Cannot even think about next year. (Note to self: start carrying tissues everywhere.)

8. A few blinks ago, I was triumphantly hauling my 7-pound, 5-day-old baby into the pediatrician’s office for her first well-baby check. Next month, I’ll go with that baby to her last well-child check. (See “tissues,” above.)

9. Cap-and-gown-themed party supplies on clearance? Let me get a cart.

10. Links I’ve saved recently : “What You Need To Know About the 2017–18 FAFSA”; “6 Smart Ideas for Parenting Your High School Senior”; and “7 Things To Make Sure You Do During Your Child’s Senior Year.”

On top of all these hit-me moments, I’m holding on to everything we do that might be a last: last week at the lake; last church camp; last teeth-cleaning with pediatric dental coverage.

But I’m also getting ready for so many firsts. The year ahead—the year that has started NOW—is much more a beginning than it is an ending. I’m grateful for it and excited about it.

I'm still stocking up on Kleenex, though.

Have you had your own "a long time from now is right this minute" moment? 

I'd love to have you share it in a comment or over on Facebook. 

Also, here's a tissue.

**This post may have been shared at some of these blog bashes.**