Catching my Balance

I've written a couple posts lately about preparing for my nest to empty: sadness about losing my children to their own lives and my nostalgia as I think back on my children's young lives.

And here it is, Christmas. I always have a tough time getting into the Christmas spirit. I rarely even feel like putting up a tree, and I almost never buy gifts until just a few days before Christmas. And the real meaning of Christmas always seems to elude me, too.

This year, the prospect of Christmas was rather bittersweet. My husband has been working second shift, six days a week, for the past month; we rarely see him. My kids have been busy with their own work schedules as well. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day would be the first time in months when we could all be together. I longed for this, yet I knew it would be the last one with all my kids living at home. From next year on, at least one of my kids would be visiting, not living here and being part of my everyday life.

Several years ago, I spent Christmas Eve waiting for biopsy results, wondering if it was the last Christmas Eve my family would have me with them. Last night, I cried all through the beautiful candlelight "Silent Night" as I wondered if it was the last Christmas Eve my family would be intact. I thought how grateful I would be for even a few hours of having my entire family together on Christmas.

Yeah, well, so much for that.

Son #2 has a girlfriend. They've been together over a year, and I really like her--but (you knew there was a "but" coming, didn't you?) they aren't married, he is still 17, and I needed him for one more Christmas. So guess where he decided to spend his Christmas Day? You got it--not with us.

Although all of us wanted him here with us today, in an effort to be kind and respectful of the relationship he has with his girlfriend, I agreed that he could go with her family to visit relatives in Illinois today. Every time I said, "We'd like you here with us, too," he would respond with, "I'll be home by 5. You'll still have me half of the day." (No, coming home at 5 does not leave us with half the day.). I held off Christmas dinner so he could be with us--and when I texted him to ask him to let me know what time he would be home so I could start getting dinner things together, he replied that he would be late tonight and that we should just eat without him.

After a rather lengthy exchange that included me telling me how sad I was and him announcing that he was just as much part of A's family as ours (what? seriously, dude? I birthed you! grrr), I simply broke down. I am not ready for my babies to be gone. I so needed to have all my family together for a few hours, with my husband and the children we made and raised together. Instead of having even so much as a dinner to gather my family to my bosom and soak in their presence, I was already letting them go before I'd even started to say goodbye.

Is that what parenting is? When they were little, the kids would start to walk, and there I would be, chasing behind them, trying to protect them and catch them and watch them. The child takes a step. Mommy is right behind, ready to reach out to steady him as he tries to catch his balance. I think I'm still doing that. My arms are reaching out to steady my child, only it seems that I'm really trying to steady myself as I try to catch my balance. Knowing that kids are supposed to grow up and leave their parents' home doesn't make it any easier when I'm the parent who's having a hard time letting go. I find myself wanting to say, "Wait, I'm not ready for you to go just yet!" Again and again and again.