maiden, mother, crone

I am officially a military mom.

It’s taken me a couple of days to compose myself in reality and in my conscious mind as this scenario has played out. It seems like just mere days ago I was nestled into a hospital bed holding my newborn son in my arms. The first night we spent together I couldn’t stop running my fingers through his thick, dark hair and rubbing his palm with my fingertip just to get his little fingers to wrap around my own. Our first night I was counting his tiny fingers, and brushing the tops of his tiny, little toes. I had so many things to tell him and I was so excited to finally be holding him in my arms. It was just me and my boy that night. A new space had been hollowed out in my chest and he had nestled in and made a home for himself before I could even begin to comprehend just how much being a mother changes you.

One thing I had always intrinsically known was that my son was going to be a soldier. I can’t tell you how I knew, or what prompted me to know that… call it intuition or a fear manifested; something I knew to be true all those years ago before any of it could make sense.

It all went so fast. Time is a thief.

Being a mother has been one of the most honorable and humbling things I think will ever happen to me. Childhood from a parent’s perspective goes so rapidly. Babies grow up so quickly; learning, growing, & experiencing life at a pace faster than I am able to keep up. It wasn’t until just recently over a dinner of boneless buffalo wings with my son that I was reminded how brutally fast his childhood went.

My infant baby boy who needed his mom for every waking need, who saved his own mother by offering perspective in ways I will never be able to put into words. The boy who around the age of two called me “Mommia” unprompted one day to continue to do so for the next two years. The middle schooler I would have to gently remind that he didn’t need to scream so loudly while playing xBox, to the teenager calling me at 2 AM one night to come and take him back home from a place he had no business being.

I realized as parents we aren’t given the liberty to mourn the loss of one version of our babies before the next version of them is already standing before us; requiring new experiences on which they can expand and learn from. Soon, our parental heads (and hearts) stop swiveling on an axis at Mach speed and these growing versions of our kids do actually turn into adults. Adults with their own beliefs, thoughts, feeling and experiences. Before we know it, the version of the baby you once held in your arms who needed your guidance and support for quite literally everything, evolves to walk out the door, and all that’s left for us to do… is let them.

We let them and we hope like hell that in the midst of stresses of every day life that we’ve supported them enough, taught them enough to believe in their own potential. To hope we’ve placed the right people at the right time to support them in all the ways that are important. We hope we’ve instilled the confidence in them to believe in their potential and the hunger they have to succeed. We hope we loved them enough. All we can do is remind them, and only hope they know.

Not only do we hope, we mourn. We mourn each version of the person they had been. We mourn all the rough patches, the sleepless nights, the first giggles… we mourn first steps and the healing of broken hearts we endured together. Believe it or not, we mourn the mess and the noise. We mourn small details and habits we thought we couldn’t stand. We mourn being asked for snacks, for a ride, and the piles of laundry. We wish we could take some of that time we spent angry back. We mourn the love we acted out on a daily basis that now has nowhere to go.

The long ago thought of my baby growing up now lays at my feet. The entrance to a reality that I had felt and perceived just a short 17 years ago for no other reason than just an intuitive knowing.

Listening to him come to me with a plan, a flow chart, timelines, a list of positives, and belief in his ability to achieve everything he is setting out to do was a moment of pride I don’t think I can ever translate from my heart to paper, only from feeling to happy tears. Proud is an understatement, but it will have to do for now.

So my baby, I leave you with this: Your heart has been and always will be your greatest asset. Watching you take the initiative and steps to forging your own path onwards towards the hopes and dreams you have nestled into your own chest is going to be a painstakingly beautiful thing. Your courage and bravery already outsteps the ranks of most. Watching you take that oath this week was one of the hardest and most exciting things I have ever done. From holding you in my arms as a baby to having to stand on my tippy toes to hug you and cry into your shoulder… being your mom has been the honor of a lifetime & I hope you know that I love you so much, Jackson Lyle. You are one of the greatest souls I have ever known. While this world isn’t good enough for you, it’s much richer because you are here.

I love you with every beat of my heart.

You are my hero in more ways than I think you understand.

xo - mom