My Baby Is A Teenager
Now, And I Miss My Little Boy
by Katie Bingham-Smith (but seriously could have been written by me)
As my
oldest son sat in the chair at the barber shop the other night, chewing his gum
and looking straight ahead, I sat watching him, taking in every detail —
something he hates and calls me out on every time he catches me staring at him
with the maternal longing that makes teens squirm.
His soft pudgy cheeks
have been replaced with a strong jaw line. I see the outline of every muscle as
he chews his gum.
The tiny voice that used
to sound so small has been replaced with a strong, masculine tone.
Eager agreements about
going out for ice cream have been replaced with shoulder shrugs and no eye
contact.
Those squishy rectangles
with bitty toes have grown into size 11 feet which are sprouting hair and look
like they could crush things.
His hugs which used to
wrap me in love and linger long after our embrace was over have been replaced
with a tap on my back. And if I hover for more than a second, he pulls away.
“Mom, stop,” he will say letting me know he’s had enough.
Those hands that used to
reach for mine can palm a basketball and start a chainsaw with one pull.
The baby I gave birth
to, my first love, is gone. I keep looking for him, and I can’t find him — not
even a trace of what he once was.
I know he loves me. I
know he needs his mother. But the tiny baby I held in my arms isn’t coming
back. The wild toddler seeking his mother’s approval is nowhere to be found.
Those cheeks, those shining eyes, the excitement is gone. I look hard every
damn day trying to grasp at straws and find a little glimpse of who he used to
be. I know it annoys him, but I can’t help myself.
He is trying hard to
grow up, and I am trying hard to slow him down. Through all this we are both
losing sight of what it means to appreciate each other for what, and who, we
are now.
The more I push, the
more he pulls.
The more I hover, the
more he tries to push the boundaries and let me know he doesn't need my help.
People tell you your
kids grow up, and it goes by fast. You are reminded teenagers can be hard to
take, and they challenge you. But no one told me the little boy I gave
birth to would completely leave me. No one said he would fight hard not
to be that curious child who wasn’t afraid to ask questions, and dance, and
unapologetically be himself while he held his mama’s hand. I had no
idea how many times my own son could break my heart — not because I’m
disappointed in him for going through normal life changes — but because I miss
who he used to be so much I feel it in my soul and deep in my bones.
You know you have to say
goodbye to your kids and let them venture into the world; it’s inevitable. But
I thought everyone meant you said goodbye when they walked out the door, when
their social life became more important than spending time at home, or when it
was time for them to leave the nest and go out on their own. I didn’t
know I would have to say goodbye while they were still living under my roof and
I saw them every day.
My grip is too tight for
him but too loose for me, and I am still trying to teach him so many things.
“Remember when?” I say.
His response is always
the same deep “yes,” followed by a faint sigh he thinks I can’t hear. But I do,
and it’s louder than his “yes.” That sigh is telling me he wants to move on,
and I need to let him. That sigh is a reminder I need to accept the
fact the child I gave birth to morphed into a new version of himself.
He’s almost a man now.
And honestly, I’ve
changed too. He’s changed me in so many ways I never saw coming. And he’s been
able to accept my changes; he
doesn’t long for his old mom to come back. So maybe I should do the same for
him? I mean, I know I should. I’m so damn proud of him, but this letting go
business is so damn hard.
I am still allowed to
miss my baby. I can still mourn our old relationship. But I think it’s time for
me to step back and start learning from him and look forward instead of trying
to bring him back. This is who he needs to be now, and I don’t want to
miss the opportunity to get to know him because I am living in days gone by.
