Born to Be — learning to let your child go to their great becoming

Summary

The content reflects a mother's emotional journey as she learns to let go of her children, allowing them to grow into independent individuals.

Abstract

The narrative begins with the author, Jackie, being asked to leave her son Timmy's classroom on his first day of school due to her emotional distress. This moment encapsulates the universal challenge parents face when their children begin to assert their independence. Jackie recounts her struggle with letting her four children attend school, symbolizing a loss of control and a step towards their own identities. The story culminates with Timmy's decision to move to Spain, further testing Jackie's ability to support her children's aspirations, despite her own fears and desires. Through her experiences, Jackie learns that her role as a parent is to guide her children towards their own paths, recognizing that they were never truly hers to keep. She acknowledges the individuality and self-sufficiency of her children as they embark on their unique life journeys, finding solace in their growth and the people they become.

Opinions

The author believes that releasing children to the influence of school and the world is a difficult yet necessary part of parenting.
She expresses a personal challenge in accepting the natural progression of her children's lives and their growing independence.
The author admits to a desire to preserve each stage of her children's childhood, indicating a deep emotional attachment.
She recognizes the importance of supporting her children's dreams and ambitions, even when it means they will be physically distant.
The author concludes that children are not possessions but individuals with their own destinies, and parents are merely conduits to help them find their way.
Despite the emotional toll, she appreciates each milestone in her children's lives as a step towards who they were meant to be.

Born to Be — learning to let your child go to their great becoming

Author and son at “show and tell”

“Jackie, you have to leave,” the teacher whispered as she nudged me gently out the classroom door. “You’re scaring the children.”

It was 1993 and my baby boy, Timmy, was about to begin his illustrious school career at St. Simon Catholic Grammar School. He looked like a happy-go-lucky Smurf in his tiny blue uniform, blond curls dancing merrily in the wind, when he bravely escaped my vice-like gripe and ran to the book corner. I, on the other hand, broke down into convulsions.

“I promise he’ll be okay,” she soothed.

Wiping my dripping nose on my sleeve, I peered into the loving face of this woman who taught his three sisters before. “Oh, I have no worries about him! It’s me that I’m concerned about. I have such a hard time letting go.”

Releasing a 5-year-old to their first full day of school is upsetting for many parents. You know they’re about to be influenced by their teachers, administrators and peers. From that point on they’ll belong to the maniacal claws of the world and will soon develop their own thoughts, opinions, desires and, hopefully, a conscience. While you are, of course, still a major influence in their budding lives, you’re no longer in complete control.

Freeing each of my four kids to attend grammar school was nearly my undoing. And I’m embarrassed to say the ensuing years never got better. I’m famous for wanting to freeze-frame each moment of their lives. I saw every graduation and first day of the school year as just another lost piece of their childhood.

In 2010, my then 23-year-old Tim announced he was moving to Spain. Apparently, a nagging voice deep within his soul called him to return to the country he fell in love with while studying abroad.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked panicked. “You have such a great job, and the economy sucks right now. Wouldn’t it be better for you to stay and make some money?”

“Mom, if I don’t go now, I’m afraid I’ll regret it the rest of my life.”

Holding back the tears, I whimpered, “Well, just promise me you won’t fall in love with a Spanish girl. I want you back!”

I studied the face of the boy I lovingly call my “man/child” and knew I shouldn’t try to stop him. After all, this was who I trained him to be — an independent thinker prepared to follow his dreams. But why did his dreams have to be so far away?

At the airport, I held onto his massive six-foot frame, blubbered like a toddler who just got her finger stuck in the door and said good-bye sadly. But despite the angst, I knew this new adventure would be good for him. He would mature, learn more about life, himself, and grow immeasurably from the experience.

When I gave birth to my children, I gave them life — their life. This is something, even to this day, I struggle to remember. They’ve never belonged to me. I was just a conduit to help them find the path that is right for them. And the result? Three daughters and a son who are totally self-sufficient and wonderfully unique individuals with families now of their own. They’re their own people and not clones.

I’ll never be able to withhold the tears when I kiss any one of them good-bye. Fortunately, maturity (and a lot of acting) has refined my ability to wait until they’re out the door before I break down. But I have come to appreciate each new departure as another wonderful step in becoming who they were born to be.

Author and son, now a grown man