As moms, we tend to worry a lot about if we are screwing it up, or more accurately how we are screwing it up. Parenting seems like a long journey when you begin. It’s daunting, looming out before you all contained in this little bundle of a soft, squishy, mini-human that now contains your entire world. You are unprepared for the enormity of your new mom responsibilities. And you’ve never loved anyone even a fraction of this type of fierce love. Time becomes your most scarce resource, followed only by money and your patience. I remember seeing a chart one time that showed that we spend 93% of our hours with our children before they turn 18 and then the other 7% spread throughout the rest of their lives. It is haunting to look at. It is numbing to let it seep deep into that part of you that identifies so strongly as Mom. Here it is if you want to risk a view.

Drew is a senior this year and he asked me at the end of summer, “Do you think you will cry this year mom?” I answered that I didn’t know. I didn’t feel an overwhelming sadness or longing. I am generally not a person that yearns for time to slow down. I’ve loved each and every stage of their childhood and yet welcomed the next stage equally as much. I feel excited for him to create his future and watch him live his dreams.

Tonight, however, I feel a little pang as I get ready to walk him out for Senior Night for his cross country team. The weather is a chilly forty-four degrees with a brutal wind. I will wait to leave for half-time until he texts me. He knows I don’t do cold weather. My boys are used to me taking off running in a dead sprint from a winter parking spot outside Target, shouting over my shoulder “If you’re not going to run, I’ll see you at the door!” (Don’t worry, they were much older than hand-holding toddler age.)

As I get dressed that noisy voice in my head criticizes me as I pick out my clothes.

Not too dowdy or old lady looking, please.

“But, it’s freezing!”

Why can’t you be organized enough to even have two matching gloves?

“I guess I should have been more on the ball on winter gear. Why is there always something to buy?”

I remember the days back when my boys always thought I was pretty and looked nice whether I dressed up or stayed in my PJ sweats. Now my main goal is more in line with just try to not be too embarrassing. I don’t generally struggle with caring much what others think of me, but when it comes to my boys I just want them to remember all of our memories fondly. I want them to know in their hearts they knew me and loved me in a special, unique way and that I felt the same for them. I want to stay close to them even though these teenage years when they at times push me a tad to the background instead of welcoming me into the fullness of their lives. This too I know is healthy and part of the process I signed up for.

I have been blessed to experience so many roles in my life so far. Daughter, sister, partner, friend, leader, teacher, writer, coach, mentor. But not one single experience has even held a faint whisper to the full-on joy of being a mom. There is a different level of surrender in my being that comes with my mothering. There are things that my boys do that would trigger me if anyone else did. A different level of grace applies to them I find easy to give. There are things they ask for that I would normally view as a great sacrifice, but with them, it doesn’t feel that way. It is an all-encompassing desire to genuinely love unconditionally that I’ve learned to surrender into. It didn’t always feel this easy and gentle though. In the early years, I recall feeling resistance and overwhelm to the sheer neediness that was a part of every hour whether sleeping or awake. Now it is such a part of my being I don’t know where that part will go once their daily need of me loosens. I do thank God the transition is at least slightly gradual as they grow into young adults.

If there are tears over this last year of my oldest still at home I will welcome them as part of my journey, part of my calling. There was a time in my life I was so disconnected from my true self I felt like an empty shell of a human being blown through this life instead of actively living it. So, now even when pain, melancholy, or sadness come I welcome them like long lost childhood friends I haven’t seen for ages, knowing at one time I was so broken I yearned to feel anything at all.

For all the moms on this journey, know without any doubt – you were called to this exact spiritual work. You were made to do this. Only you were born for this particular role, this special child. You can’t screw it up. There is no final exam. There is no one right way. Even when friends, books, and doctors tell you the way, trust me, there is no one right way. There are no rules you have to follow. There is no judge here other than the one you create in your head. (And….that voice is a big liar in case you hadn’t realized that yet.)

You just follow your heart and love each child in the way that feels right for both of your journeys. The way that feels right can change day by day or hour by hour. And when you feel like you missed the mark you just get up and try again. All that matters is you showed up to this noble adventure with a faith that you were hand selected by the Divine for this assignment.

Carry on mom. One step in the direction you feel guided. Opening your heart. Opening the mind. Welcoming the soul level connection. Embrace the rawness. Love the messiness for the memories it will make more detailed. All that’s required is a willingness to support the unfolding of this beautiful human life you’ve been blessed to witness, realizing in the end, it wasn’t just their life you watched unfold, but also your very own one, true, wild, and precious life you watched unfold.

In Love, Light and Faith,

Dawn