The past few weeks have been filled with a series of challenges in letting go. Well,

let’s be honest, motherhood is one long exercise in letting go, from the moment you let that precious little being out of the protective confines of your own body, to the day you wave goodbye as they drive themselves away from the shelter of the family nest.

I started writing about letting go as the school year got under way and I had to say goodbye so many times, in so many ways. I wanted to write about how mothers and fathers, and others who love deeply, have to constantly let go. About the importance and necessity of allowing your children to grow and become independent. About how hard it can be as a mother to step back, make space, and trust these little people to make their own way. About the worry and anxiety, ever present in motherhood – will my precious little bundles be competent enough, brave enough, strong enough? will the world be too rough for them? will they receive the love and care they need and deserve? will they make friends; will these friends treat them with affection and kindness; will they stand up for themselves when confronted with injustice? will they know what to do when I am not there to help them navigate the wild world?

And of course my own anxiety… I have spent almost 7 years doing little other than caring for these boys. And now I am at a crossroads, on the brink of an existential crisis! Will I know what to do with myself; will I find something meaningful to do with my time? That is after I deal with the endless piles of paper and bills that have been accumulating waiting for my attention, implement the fitness regime that I never seem to get around to, and get into a rhythm of cooking healthy and delicious meals for myself and my family…

I set out writing about how hard the start of this school year was, but how I was learning to let go. I remembered a particularly rough day as school started, when I had to head off to jury duty when one boy had his first field trip of the year and the other had his first playdate at his new school. It was no small thing for me to leave it to someone else to ensure they had all the necessary gear, wore the right clothes, brought the right food and snacks, carried enough water, remembered dry socks (and the little one a change of clothes just in case), and arrived where they had to be on time and in good spirits. Both were nervous about their days and needed not only the right stuff, but special guidance and support, to navigate new terrain, and find ways to open up to new classmates and teachers. I spent half the night ensuring I had done everything I could to prepare them, and then I had to let them go, let them find their way without me. I lost sleep over this big day, but they had excellent care (and all the gear I had painstakingly prepared), and they made their way without me. I let them go, even if it was just for a little while.

I reflected on moments where letting go felt right and I saw my kids grow because I stepped back and gave them space. I watched as my boys walked away, venturing into new territories, not needing me to hold their hands for every step. I was amazed at all that was expected of them, and of me. I left my big boy at the door to his classroom; not walking in, not staying for the morning meeting, not stopping to chat with the teachers.  I picked up a child, somehow more independent, more mature, more self-sufficient at the end of the day, and marveled at how he had grown since the morning. I no longer know everything that happened in his day, or monitor all his interactions with others. He is still my baby boy, and still adorable (though I’m not allowed to say so), but he is stretching out his wings and testing them on short flights of his own.

Preparing to send the little one to preschool for three long days all on his own, was even more difficult. I wondered how I would know what he did all day when he told me the tales of his adventures in his own peculiar language, and I lacking context, didn’t understand. I wondered if they would take him to the potty often enough, listen to him well enough, talk to him gently enough, allow him to rest when he couldn’t go on another moment… We talked about school and he was so excited, and so proud. He carried his new lunchbox, wore his new shirt, and walked in with confidence. He seemed pleased with the things he was learning and the chance to teach us something for a change. It seemed that letting go was what he needed, at least at first…

But then I was confronted with a pain to deep to ignore. I wrestled with myself because I thought letting go was so important, but this did not feel right. I tried to convince myself that I just needed to make space and this little person would emerge, more competent and independent than before. And we would both be so proud of what we had accomplished. But the searing pain in my heart and the wracking sobs escaping from both of us, told a different story.

I picked him up at the end of the first day and he was swallowing sobs, because I didn’t come soon enough. The second day was better. The next time we had to go to school, he started crying hours before we got there. By the time we got to school, he was calmer, but as soon as I said goodbye, tears began running down his cheeks. I left him with a forced cheery greeting and came home to sob in my empty house. Now I can’t bring myself to take him back to school. We tried again a few times, but the way he crumpled and begged me not to drop him off when we got there, made it impossible for me to leave him.

After trying to ignore these protests, sleepless nights, and tears (from both of us), I finally listened. I realized that sometimes, it is not letting go, or stepping back, or making room, that is required, but rather just listening and trusting and staying close. I listened to my child, who was very clear about his feelings, and I listened to myself, whose physical and emotional reactions were equally clear.

So perhaps I will cling to them a little tighter, just for now. Enjoy a bit more time being full time mom, devoting my time and energy to simply loving them, feeding them, clothing them. To sharing stories, playing games, kicking balls, riding bikes, snuggling at bedtime. Because I know that I will never regret spending this time with them and making them my priority. But I might regret if I don’t. After all, there is plenty of time for letting go, isn’t there?

I don’t believe that keeping a 3 year old out of preschool is going to jeopardize his future. It was not so long ago that I weaned this little guy; not so long ago that he cried when I strapped him into his car seat and walked around the car to my own seat because he thought I was gone; not so long ago that he finally got used to a babysitter so I could get away for a few hours; not so long ago that they learned to sleep in their own beds (most of the time!) So we are constantly separating, but we don’t need to rush it!

We do many of these things several times a day, in some form or another. I let them go to school without brushing their hair; I let them make Nutella toast for breakfast and pack snacks and lunch for school, and bite my tongue about the choices; I let them leave the house with clothes on backwards and shoes on the wrong feet, because they dressed independently. I leave them overnight to see my sister, or call the sitter so I can go out for dinner or pilates, or just a sanity break at a coffee shop!

When we are ready and able to deal with another goodbye, I will continue carefully stepping back and watch them take short flights of their own. I know there will come a time when I will have to let them go, let them do things that are hard for them and for me, say goodbye, step back, and watch them make mistakes and maybe (probably) even get hurt.The goodbyes will just get bigger… I am reminding myself that we are all people, with very real and valid emotions. If we can keep talking about how we feel, and how hard these goodbyes are, maybe we can make it through them. What I do not want to do, is ignore their feelings, or my own, and force us apart before we are ready. We are all figuring this out as we go along, and I will let go slowly and gently, a little at a time.