Holding On but Letting Go

Nineteen years ago, my husband and I began the beautiful journey of parenthood as we welcomed our first born baby girl into this world. She was a wonderful miracle, a precious gift and a tremendous amount of work. We documented each move she made with a photograph or video, watched her sleep and studied her every move. We read endless articles on parenting, enriched her surroundings with books, music and laughter, and fed her wholesome meals to nourish her growing self. We celebrated each milestone tremendously and marveled as she quickly grew into a young woman before our eyes, no longer needing to hold our hand every step of the way. Our first born daughter has always been extremely independent, longing to achieve great heights, challenging her mind and her abilities and constantly filling our hearts with pride. We always enjoy her company and love spending as much time as we can with her. But last year, for the very first time in our lives, she left our protective nest to explore the world through her own experiences without our constant watchful eye or hand within our reach. And we are about to do it again. I don’t think I am ready, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

Although it is common practice to allow our children the opportunity to study abroad for a year or more, no one can prepare you for the variety of emotions you will feel when you let your child go for the very first time. I remember watching her disappear beyond the gate at the airport, smiling and waving behind my sunglasses even though we were indoors, trying to choke back my tears and storm of emotions that stirred right beneath the surface. I was trying to keep it together; for my daughter and for my other kids who were already missing their big sister even before she left. For about a week afterwards, I couldn’t even walk into her room, the emptiness echoing throughout the house. We tried to fill that void by chatting often and talking to each other over face time, receiving detailed visual tours of her new space and excited for her and her endless possibilities of growth. As time went on, we got used to doing things without her, missing her all the same but happy to know she was happy, forging her own path, creating memories and building foundations.

When the pandemic hit, hysteria ensued when discussions of border closures and lockdowns became the topic of conversation in every household across the world. Without much choice, we brought her home as quickly as we could, knowing her year abroad was not done although it had to be for now. Dazed and confused, and giddy with excitement we hugged and kissed our precious girl who returned home halfway through her year of studies. But we quickly realized that even after just six months, our amazing caterpillar had grown into a most beautiful butterfly.

Despite the chaos and uncertainty of the world that surrounded our four walls, we thoroughly enjoyed being able to spend so much time together with nowhere to go and nothing to do other than to figure out how to acquire basic supplies for our necessities. We bonded and grew closer learning more about each other, laughing and crying and pretty much going stir crazy together. We felt grateful and lucky and though we prayed for the pandemic to end, we reveled in our time together as a family.

These past six months have been a roller coaster of emotions. And I guess we are going to ride that coaster again. In just a couple of days, our baby girl will be leaving us once more, wanting to finish what she started last year, and despite the pain and the hole that is already growing in my heart, we are going to let her go. Because that’s what parenting is all about. You spend your life giving and loving, teaching and leading. You shape and you mold and you mess up in between. And then you do it again. There are always choices and decisions to be made and you try your best to make the right ones. You give it all you got and you hold on tight. And then, without warning you let go.

We have watched our marvelous butterfly soar to great heights. And it has been amazing. After nineteen years, she is ready to establish her own roots with the seeds that we have planted and toiled over all these years. I know those roots are strong and sturdy. And they are greatly connected to ours. May they serve as a reminder that no matter where she flies, she is always welcome to return home when she is ready- where we will all be waiting with open arms.