I’ve decided that the primary task of motherhood is letting go.
It starts with the physical pain of letting go of a tiny human being who has become part of our body for many months. This child has moved within us, been nourished from the vessels inside us, and has grown and developed as part of us. Despite this powerful physical connection, we must set this child free. This tiny son or daughter needs to become independent to survive. The first letting go is birth. It always involves pain. The recovery is difficult. Even the adopted child starts his life’s journey with a mother’s letting go. It is nature’s law.
As this child grows and develops, every step is one toward independence. The crawling baby scurries across the room, in search of his own freedom. The toddler on his two feet is in pursuit of autonomy. The kindergartener, wobbly on his bicycle, finally breaks free from the running parent’s grasp and sails into the open, beckoning air. Again, and again, we let go. And yet, we quickly bring our child back. It’s not time. You’re not ready. I’m not ready. No, not yet.
And so we prepare them. We teach. This is how you brush your teeth. Here is how you tie your shoes. This is how you make a sandwich, use the telephone, drive a car, and balance a checkbook. The goal—the unspeakable goal—is to eventually let go of this child. When our son or daughter becomes a responsible self-governing adult, we have supposedly succeeded. Yet this also brings pain.
In the case of a child with a disability, some of these steps may never be taught. And a strange dichotomy occurs. There is sadness in the realization that this child may never break free completely and live independently. And yet, perhaps there is also a sense of relief, that the ultimate pain of letting go may never materialize. We might even become comfortable in the idea that this child will constantly need us and remain in a state of innocence. Yet we must check ourselves. Are we holding our child too tightly when we could be encouraging more steps toward freedom? Are we assuming this child cannot achieve, and refusing to imagine any other scenario? Are we frightened—even terrified—of letting go of this special child?
What if he fails? What if she is rejected? What if the world is cruel? As mothers, we want to protect our children from pain. And deep down, we hope to protect ourselves from it as well.
Letting go requires hope, patience, and wisdom. It requires risk. May we as mothers have the courage we need to help our children spread their wings.
Kristyn Crow is the author of this blog. Visit her website by clicking here. Some links on this blog may have been generated by outside sources are not necessarily endorsed by Kristyn Crow.
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