My Child Has Grown Up, And I Wish I Had Just a Bit More Time

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The other day, my son reminded me that I haven’t posted anything in nearly a year. Not for lack of inspiration, though—plenty has happened during that time.

I could have shared the tale of how I nearly severed my thumb while using a mandoline slicer. Yes, I picked up the sliced-off part, pressed it back into place, and wrapped it in a paper towel—all while contemplating whether I really needed medical help. Spoiler: I did, and it took weeks to heal. Only a true Italian would go to such lengths for perfectly sliced fried eggplant!

Then there was the incident right after my “mandoline mishap” when I found out I had skin cancer on my scalp. My writing usually leans toward the humorous side, so I struggled to put a funny spin on that one. But just to clarify, I’m perfectly fine now—take that, squamous cell carcinoma!

Oh, and I could have written about my oldest child graduating from high school. That’s pretty monumental, right? She got accepted into her dream school, the University of Washington, and our family gathered for the graduation celebration. I might have shed a few tears during the ceremony, but honestly, it’s a bit of a blur.

This summer, she worked hard to save up for college, and we chatted about all the essentials she’d need for her dorm. We bought new bedding and a mini-fridge, and I thought I was handling it all just fine. We even ordered her textbooks online a few days ago and shipped them to her dorm. Still, I felt okay.

But then came the day we loaded the car, took the ferry, and headed for Seattle. Upon moving her into her shiny new dorm, everything seemed great as we enjoyed dinner with her roommate and their lovely family. I thought I was fine.

However, when I hugged my daughter goodbye and watched her walk away, it hit me like a ton of bricks. That moment felt like I was watching her step out of her childhood and into a vast, uncertain world. Suddenly, I was not okay. So here I am, writing about it.

It’s like I’ve been caught in an emotional hurricane. I anticipated feeling sad when she left. After all, you spend 18 years with someone; of course, you’ll miss them when they go, even if they can be a bit of a handful (which mine isn’t, making it even harder).

I knew worry would come, too, because until now, I always knew where she was. I knew her bedtime, her wake-up time, and even what she had for breakfast. Now, she’s in a bustling city, and I have no idea if she’s sleeping well, what she’s wearing, or if she remembered a jacket. It’s all just so… unsettling.

Alongside the worry, guilt has crept in. I’m second-guessing every parenting decision I’ve made. Did I prepare her enough for the “real” world? Did I scare her too much or not enough? Will she actually keep that pepper spray in her backpack? Will she know how to mail a package? Did I ever mention the post office closes at 5:30?

And anger? I didn’t see that one coming. I’m frustrated at the world for not prepping me for this. We receive endless unsolicited advice about parenting newborns, navigating toddler tantrums, and dealing with teenage drama. But when it comes to sending your child off to college, the response is always, “Oh, how exciting!” and that’s it. Seriously, why didn’t anyone tell me that this milestone is the hardest of them all? Not a single person said, “Oh, your child is going to college? I’m so sorry. That really stinks for you.”

Of course, I’m thrilled for her future. I wouldn’t want her to stay home forever. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s tough for me right now. So to all you parents with younger kids out there—consider this my warning: it’s hard. You’re welcome.

People say, “Oh, at least she’s only an hour away,” and that used to comfort me. But I’ve learned it doesn’t really matter if she’s just an hour away or five. Either way, she’s not here, and the house feels way too quiet.

I keep picturing my little girl walking away toward her building while I fight back tears, shouting, “Wait! Turn around! I’m not ready yet! I need more time… just a little more time!” But alas, my time has come to an end, and all I can do is hope I made the most of it.

Despite my heavy heart and muddled emotions, I know the truth: I may need more time, but she doesn’t. She’s strong, smart, and beautiful, and she’s ready for whatever comes next. World, please take care of her.

If you’re interested in parenting advice, don’t forget to check out some of our other posts, like this one on the contact page for more tips. And for those curious about conception, you can find a fantastic resource on IVF here. Plus, if you’re looking into home insemination, you can explore this at-home insemination kit for more information.

Summary:

In this heartfelt reflection, Jamie Brooks shares the emotional rollercoaster of sending her daughter off to college. From moments of joy to overwhelming sadness, she navigates the challenging transition of letting go. Amidst feelings of worry, guilt, and unexpected anger, she realizes the importance of cherishing the time spent together, even as her daughter steps into a promising future.