To My Determined Son: I Think We’ve Made It

home insemination Kit

I catch a glimpse of him standing next to his 3-year-old brother, who is throwing an epic fit over the bagel I just handed him. Apparently, I was supposed to cut it into quarters, not halves (how could I forget?!) As I attempt to soothe the little one, encouraging him to breathe and articulate his feelings — explaining that if he could just stop wailing, we could sort out the bagel situation — my older son stands there, calm as can be, looking down with a slight grin.

Just a few months ago, he would have jumped right into the chaos, covering his ears and shouting “stooooop!” Or, on a particularly grouchy day, he might have blurted out “shut up!” which would only add fuel to the fire, leaving me with two kids in need of discipline. Instead, he remains cool and collected. As I begin to explain to his younger brother that cutting it into quarters is totally doable if he would just chill out, my older son chimes in, “Yeah, Mom can fix it,” in the most composed, supportive manner.

And I can barely hold back tears.

It feels like it was just yesterday that he was the one lying on the floor, wailing about how I cut his toast or flipping out over the color of his sippy cup. His tantrums were volcanic; he would scream until little blotches appeared under his eyes, kicking his legs in frustration. He would argue with me, crafting elaborate rationalizations for why he was right. Some of his arguments were almost convincing. My determined son; my fiery one. The one who never took “no” for an answer.

Conventional discipline techniques were useless with him. Diversions? Nope, he was too fixated on the source of his distress. Moving him to another room for a “time out” only escalated his outrage. Sometimes his screams were so loud, I feared the neighbors would dial 911.

I devoured parenting books and sought out advice, but ultimately, I followed my instincts. I sat with him, striving to stay calm, and waited it out. Eventually, he would collapse in my arms, sobbing, and we could chat. Over the years, we honed our approach to those meltdowns. It involved a lot of trial and error, and plenty of moments where we both felt lost, but together, we discovered what he needed during those turbulent times.

This summer, he turned 9 ½. Not quite a kid anymore, but not yet a teenager. He shot up this past year; his face has matured. He seems sturdier, more resilient. That headstrong nature is still present, but he’s learned to temper it. He can now take that extra breath — the one I’ve suggested for years — and it helps him keep his cool when things don’t go his way.

I want him to know that I see how much he’s evolved, both inside and out. I recognize the incredible individual he is becoming. I see him consciously choosing maturity. He’s realized that behaving like an adult is powerful and cool. He embraces it, just like he has always embraced every part of himself.

Everyone told me that raising a strong-willed child was a blessing, that he would grow into a leader, a confident individual, a visionary. He has always possessed an insightful nature — wise beyond his years, a true thinker. But I never quite believed that the struggles would transform into something beautiful and admirable.

Yet I clung to that hope, even when things were tough. My goodness, I think we’re nearly there. I believe we’ve made it, him and I. But the credit goes to him. It wasn’t his fault that his emotions ran so deep; that’s just who he is. He’s someone who feels everything intensely, with complex thoughts and opinions about the world — from how justice should function to the way our plans for the day ought to unfold.

He was just a little guy, grappling with emotions that felt too big for his small frame.

Dear son, I apologize for the moments I lost my patience with you. I’m sorry for the times I still do. And I preemptively apologize for the ways I might lose it during your teenage years — those days are approaching faster than we realize, and a new whirlwind awaits us.

But I have faith we’ll get through it. We’ve built a solid foundation of trust over the years — forged through blood, sweat, and tears — trust that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Most importantly, I want you to know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, I see you in this moment. I am so proud of the person you are becoming, and the man you will eventually be. I can see that man in your eyes, in the way you smile knowingly at me while your brother is having his meltdown, resting a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder and telling him it’s going to be okay.

Truth be told, I have loved you through every phase you’ve encountered. Even when each day felt like a marathon with you, I would often find myself marveling at the fire in your heart. You only get better with age; that fire has transformed into pure light, illuminating your path to a vibrant and amazing life.

Thank you for instilling hope in me, for reminding me that all I needed to do was my best, follow my instincts, and love you unconditionally. And I do; I love you so incredibly much.