By Beth Vogt, author of BABY CHANGES EVERYTHING: Embracing and Preparing for Motherhood after 35

I’m in the middle of a break up. My sister was the one who made me face reality. She could see all the signs because she was in a similar situation about four years ago. It was difficult to listen to what she was saying, but I knew she was lovingly telling me the truth.

After 18 years, he is changing in ways I can’t control.  He moved out nine months ago.  I saw him a few times these past months and he called occasionally.  Now he’s decided he wants to move back in, but I know he won’t stay.  My daughters still get excited when he is around.  I know I need to let him go, but it is so hard to do. The truth is I was not totally prepared for my firstborn son Josh to turn 18 and leave home to go to college.

Isn’t that what every parent wants for their children?  We want them to grow up, to become independent of us.  When they do, we assure ourselves we have done a good job of raising our sons and daughters to be independent, capable adults.

I realize now I didn’t adequately prepare to let go of the son I bore, rocked, potty-trained, taught to read, sent off to camp and school, cheered through sports competitions and urged to make wise choices.  Yes, the apron strings stretched as Josh grew up, but they didn’t break. 

They stretched as I watched Josh run a bit farther from me.  As I watched him jump off the much-too high dive at the pool.  As I hugged him goodbye with a smile plastered on my face as he left for a nine weeks mission trip to Kenya.  (What was he thinking?  He had just turned 14!)  As he made job choices and some wrong choices.  As he drove away in the car by himself for the first time—to go buy a comb!  As he walked across the platform and received his well-deserved high school diploma.  As he left home in his loaded car and settled into apartment life and college—and living with four other guys. My son had never shared a room in his life!

I need to cut the strings.  I need to allow myself to lose control of Josh’s life.  After all, it is his life, not mine.  I need to be thankful for the years and for the memories—and joyfully await seeing his life unfold. As it often is when I struggle, I find myself falling to my knees in prayer.  Seeking guidance and peace and strength to do what I need to do.

And so, I pray.
 “Abba-God,
  Your name reminds me you, too, have a parent’s heart.  You understand the joys and sorrows of being a parent more than I realize.
  Only you, my heavenly Father, can look in my heart and understand my struggle to let my son go.
You gave me days, weeks, months and years to hold Josh.  I rocked him, read to him, sang to him.  I chased him and slid down slides with him.  Stood at the sidelines of soccer games, swimming meets and wrestling matches. 
 I wept over his hurts, be they skinned knees or bruised emotions.  I laughed at his antics and rejoiced at his triumphs.  And I wept over his mistakes.
 Truly when you say children are a blessing, it is the sum of all these things I treasure in my heart.
 Now may I know—and accept—the blessing of letting Josh go.  It is not my place to nag, but rather to encourage.  May I never stand in the way of Your will for his life.  May I never assume I know what Your will is for him.  May I support his dreams.
 May I rejoice in the letting go."

Read Beth's Blog at PreciousMoms.com