This past Monday, after twelve weeks of maternity leave, my daughter Maggie headed back to work leaving her new son, Kaspar, in daycare. It was a tough day for her, as would be expected, not only because she missed her tender times with her little one, but also because she was entering the workplace with a new identity, she was now a working mother.
We didn’t get a chance to chat at all on Monday and by late evening I was feeling my mommy disquiet detector beginning to ping. Why hadn’t she called? Was something wrong? Was she just tired? After almost three months of touching-base with her almost everyday, I have to admit, I was becoming a little uneasy. Finally, about nine-thirty she texted me to let me know she was fine, it had been a long hard day and of course, that she loved me.
It was a lovely “ahhhhh” moment but it soon transformed into an “ah ha!” moment as I realized that after more than thirty-three years of motherhood, I still have those moments when I need to know everything is all right with my babies. Just as Maggie agonized about dropping Kaspar off with thoroughly vetted “strangers”, I was right along side her, agonizing less about Kaspar and more about my baby. It was another little moment of letting go.
All mothers know that one of the most challenging aspects of the role is in letting your children go out into the world. From the first time you leave your baby with a sitter, to your first night away from each other to the time they take that first step onto a school bus, mothers are constantly biting the sides of their cheeks, smiling tautly, taking a deep breath and letting their children grow into their place in the world.
And, as I’m relearning, that feeling of loss doesn’t end when your children are adults and on their own.
p.s. So keep that in mind all you adult “children” – call your mother from time to time!