Dear Son,
Here we are, at this pivotal moment in your life. You’re transitioning into manhood, eager to shed the childhood you once embraced (and my hugs every time I reach out), while I find myself watching you closely, perhaps too closely.
This journey is undeniably challenging for your mom. I recognize that it may be more difficult for me than for you. I understand it’s typical for you to gradually push me away, a reality I anticipated, yet the emotional toll has been more intense than I ever imagined. I long for the days of our past.
Being your mother has been the most remarkable experience of my life thus far. It’s not comparable to that first night I brought you home, trying my best to nurse you as we navigated those early struggles. Your toddler tantrums seem trivial beside the emotional complexity of guiding a teenager through puberty.
Maybe I shouldn’t express how much I yearn for the times you would run around carefree, exclaiming in delight at a frog in the road. Perhaps it’s best not to remind you of when you’d hold my hand with all your attention focused on me. Still, I can’t help myself. A piece of me wishes to revive that little boy.
I’m genuinely striving to balance being a good parent while allowing you the space you need. I know that if I stifle you, our relationship might wither, yet I fear that if I don’t communicate enough, I could lose you in other ways. It’s a delicate act, and many days, I feel like I’m failing.
I’m doing my best to remain composed as I assist you with your tie, observe you holding hands with a girl from a distance, or see you exerting effort yet feeling inadequate. I’m resisting the urge to control every aspect of your life, trying not to hover or shield you from every stumble. It’s an all-consuming experience, and there are days when it feels suffocating.
Witnessing you mature, falling in love, and hearing you respond “you too” when I express my love can be heartbreaking. Your eye rolls and sarcastic comments often push me to my limit, making me want to lock you away and plead with you to slow down.
I want the absolute best for you, and I miss being able to care for you in every way. However, I understand it’s time to release my grip slightly. You must carve your own path and uncover who you wish to be, all while I hold onto my values. I recognize you perceive me as overprotective. Yes, I am strict, and I won’t apologize for that. I’m not here to be your friend; I’m your mom, and I will maintain boundaries until you’re ready to navigate the world on your own. We cannot afford to lose each other in this process.
You’re growing up, and I believe in your capabilities. I can’t always be by your side, and I won’t know everything you’re doing (as much as I might want to). This is a hard truth for me to accept.
I will always be here for you, even if I can’t always be right next to you. There will be times when you’ll have to pick yourself up after a fall, and I cannot fix all your mistakes. You will need to learn to own them, even if that means the resolution looks different from what I envision. I’ll need you to remind me of that truth more often than not.
I apologize that you’re navigating these challenges with me as your guide. I wish I could do better. I know I’ll stumble along the way, but I will never apologize for loving you fiercely.
Please promise me that you will venture out and make your life meaningful. Be kind, and strive to live your best life. I will do my utmost to allow you the freedom to pursue it in your own way, even if it proves difficult for us both.
With all my love,
Mom
Additional Resources
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Summary
As a mother, I grapple with the bittersweet process of watching my son grow into a teenager, balancing my desire to protect him with the need to grant him independence. This journey is filled with emotional challenges as I navigate my role, support his growth, and learn to step back while still being present for him. It’s a complex experience that requires understanding, love, and patience from both of us.