Watching My 8th-Grade Boy Grow As I Learn To Let Go 

I woke up to a welcome Friday morning, finishing our third week of the new school year. Today is my son’s first basketball game of his 8th-grade career. I felt a bit nostalgic as I watched him prepare for the day. He’s standing several inches taller than me and truly looks like a young man: A very handsome, self-assured, often mouthy young man. But there are times…times that pierce an arrow through my heart while watching my 8th-grade boy grow as I learn how to let go. 

Like this morning, when he exited the car in the infamous Junior High car line at his school. He stood tall after he grabbed his backpack and basketball shoes from the backseat. He immediately recognized a friend being dropped off at the same time and hurried to catch up. I watched as he confidently sauntered away from my car toward his familiar school building. I simply sat alone for a moment in the car, with music playing and the background of reminiscent memories flooding my mind. All while watching my baby boy walk away. Toward independence, adulthood, and the fateful calling of where he is meant to land in this life. It is a beautiful thing. It is a heartbreaking thing. It is the only true, real, authentic thing I know. Mommas everywhere get this truth about raising our kids while we watch our babies grow up. It is both soul-piercing and painful, yet filled with a raw and natural beauty only a mother can feel. We want our precious babes to stick close to our hearts and homes. Yet, simultaneously, we want them to be independent, capable, and knowledgeable about the world. We pray they stay safe and protected while they explore their expanding landscape as they age.

Watching My 8th-Grade Boy Grow As I Learn To Let Go 

Watching my 8th-grade boy grow as I learn to let go is a constant emotional battle—knowing when to step back and when to step up. Understanding that space is necessary, but so is letting that behemoth of a young man know that I am here, waiting, willing, wanting to help him navigate these confusing and often torturous waters of adolescence. Sometimes, a simple look, a pat on the back, or a brief word of encouragement is all the communication he needs. Other times, it is an all-out emotional gut-fest with tears, yelling, cussing, throwing things (and that’s just me) ….

I recently stumbled across this famous quote, “A mother’s job is to teach her children not to need her anymore. The hardest part of that job is accepting success.”, by Rochelle B. Weinstein. 

Some mornings, I sit a little longer than necessary in the school drop-off line, watching my now handsome young man enter the doors of the school he has called home since kindergarten. Despite the rough waters of the ‘teenage wasteland’ (thanks to The Who, who ironically outlined these adolescent years for generations of Gen X and prior parents to fully understand), I know this kid has got a lot figured out. But I am here for so many things he is still working on. We are learning together. He is learning to fly toward freedom. I am learning to painfully let go. Yet, there will never be a time that I will fully relinquish my worry, protective nature, concern, excitement, joy, pride, and interest in this baby-turned-toddler-turned-little boy-turned-teenage-young-man ready to take on the world.

Tonight, as he plays in the first basketball game of his last year of middle school, I will sit in the stands- feeling so many emotions, like pride, excitement, grief, and gratitude. I might shed a tear as I watch the boy who made me a mother do one of the things he loves most in life. It is truly astounding this journey of parenthood. It is heartbreaking, soul-sucking, slap-in-the-face, and the most authentically glorious experience I have ever encountered in this life. I was made to be his mother. And I will, until my last breath, cheer him on in this game of life. Whether from the sidelines, bleachers, nose-bleed section, locker room, or on the long, quiet, deep-thinking, late car ride home, where he currently sits as my co-pilot.

I know full well that the tides of change will strongly culminate in a very distinct shift as he grows through these teen years. One in which I will soon accept the fateful role of being his copilot….. Whether that requires a literal action, such as teaching him how to drive, or metaphorically stepping back to give him space to navigate all the education, career choices, relationships, and life opportunities that will present themselves to him in the coming years.

This guy made me a mom. He was my constant sidekick as a young toddler. He grew to be my strong and stable big boy as he matured. He is presently testing those wings and preparing to fly as a teenager. How grateful am I to be able to witness firsthand the miracle of a boy becoming a man. And to know that no matter how much he will change or how far he may go, our hearts will forever be bound together by an invisible, yet indestructible, string of love that only a mother and son can know.