I Am Your Biggest Fan

An open letter to my kids

Dear Kids,

Since I have been experiencing what is very much like an empty nest since the two younger of you went to boarding school about 5 ½ months ago, I’ve had time to reflect on who I am, who you are, and our changing relationship with one another. Two of you are literally on the other side of the world, which is a whole other set of circumstances, and while having your younger siblings 55 miles away is tough, wow, having you more than 4,000 miles away is SO TOUGH.

I know, you’re all grown up in your own way. You don’t need me to change your diapers, hold your tiny hands while you walk, clean up your scraped knees, and tuck you in at night (though I secretly wish you miss some of these things like I do… ahem, except the diaper-changing). All four of you are turning out to be incredible people. I don’t just love you because you’re my kids, but I genuinely like being around you. You’re smart, talented, confident, and I am always hearing great things about you from others.

There have been so many times in the past 22 years, since I first became a mom, that I have second-guessed myself. I’ve even beat myself up, because I knew that I failed you in some way. I remember holding you while you slept or when you were older, looking in on you while you slept, knowing how much I could mess you up if I just let myself go. And, I know that I’ve disappointed you, even hurt you, because of my actions or words. If anything could break my heart the worst in this job of parenthood, it’s that I cause my own children, whom I love with all my heart, to feel pain.

You roll your eyes and groan at my emotional tendencies. I over-react, I get my feelings hurt, I become a ferocious mama bear, and I blurt out words of love to you, because I feel things very deeply. I know that annoys you sometimes. I wish I didn’t feel things like I do. But, imagine how joyful your moments of joy were because of me and how comforted your moments of sorrow were, because I carried some of that sorrow along with you. Imagine a birthday or a great loss without this emotional mama. Ok, now, stop imagining that, because no matter what you do or how you gripe, I will always be who I am and I’m at my best and my worst with you. That’s what makes us, well, US.

Now that you’re older and we’re not together so much, oh boy, do I miss you.  I miss every part of you, the good and the bad. I miss when we would bump heads, because, well, you’re just as strong-willed as your dad and I are. I miss laughing over the stupid stuff that only we get because it’s our shared silly sense of humor. I miss watching you sleep. I miss making foods that I know you like. I miss sitting together, even when we didn’t interact, because I just love being near you. You are, after your dad, my favorite people in the world. No one could replace you in my life.

When you do anything, good or bad, I am your biggest fan. Now, I will tell you when you did wrong, and I cringe to think of the consequences that you face, but I am still heartbroken that you’re having to face them. I wish I could face them myself in your place. I tend to brag about you when you do something amazing- AGAIN!- to anyone that will listen. You grumble about that, but I just can’t help myself. I am your biggest fan. Though I know you’re not perfect, you have surpassed all of the wishful prayers I prayed for you, from the time I knew you were growing in my womb. You have so  much more life to live, but I can’t imagine how much greatness is yet to come because I’ve already been blown away by you.

Nothing brightens my day but a phone call or message from you. Even a short one. I love hearing about your day, laughing at events in your life, giving advice, and knowing how I can encourage and pray for you. But, if nothing else, just knowing you’re doing ok makes me happy. There are times when you call and I’ve been struggling with the missing you stuff, I may not tell you that I saw or heard or smelled something that made me think of you and it made me a bit sad. But, I’ll listen intently to everything you say and try to respond in all the right places, even if I’m aching to have you sitting next to me saying these things. Hearing your voice is like a salve to that ache.

One day, dear one, you’ll understand. You’ll hold my grandbaby in your arms and pray silently, like I did, “Oh dear God, help me not to screw this up!” and a tear will trace a line down your cheek. At the same time, your entire being will groan from the inside out because of the overwhelming love that you have for this tiny being that bears your genes. I hope that we’re not too far away so that I can wrap my arm around you, still marveling at the person you’ve become, and say, “You’re going to do just fine.”

Of all the things that God has given me to do, being your mom is by far the hardest and the best. And, though my role may change through the years, I will never give it up. I am your mom.

Love, Your Biggest Fan,

Mom