Growing Pains {Letting Go is Hard to Do}

“Are you okay to go in by yourself?” I nervously ask my 4-year-old as we pull up to the dance studio. It’s only her second class; surely she’s still going to want me to walk her inside, right?

“Yep, Mommy, I’m independent!” she says as she happily bounces inside, blissfully unaware that she’s taking a little piece of my heart with her.

I get that it’s supposed to be this way. 

As parents, it’s part of our job to encourage and foster independence. I should be thrilled that my daughter has the self-assurance to tackle new adventures on her own, and truly, I am. But no one ever told me how hard it would be.

My sweet first-born now has these small slivers of her life that do not always include me. I know that as she grows, the slivers will as well. As a parent who can admittedly teeter on the helicopter side, I want to know every single thing about her life. I want to be there for every single moment. Yet I can’t and I won’t.

I was a painfully shy child. I would have begged my mom to walk me into whatever activity I was doing, and then clung to her legs for dear life when it was time for her to go. For the first few years of her life, my daughter was the same way. With age, however, she’s changed. She’s blossomed. She is the first to extend a hello to a neighbor while we’re on a walk. She readily pays compliments to anyone she sees with fun shoes or a fancy hairstyle. She eagerly approaches other kids at the playground. In these moments, I see her growing confidence, and of course, it fills my heart with pride.

Can you be nostalgic for a moment you’re currently living?

I’m not always great about savoring the present. I tend to reminisce on the past or dream about the future. Right now, though, I want to hold on to the friendly, talkative, gregarious 4.5-year-old that I have. I want to remember her animatedly showing us leaps and twirls in her pastel leotard and her first pair of ballet slippers. Her word is relatively small and full of so much magic. I want to keep her this way, just a little bit longer.

Part of growing up is learning how and when to let go – it’s hard, more on me than it is on her, I’m sure. Sometimes she’ll say to me, “When I’m a grown-up, you won’t have to take care of me anymore.” What she doesn’t know is that another part of being a parent is always taking care of your children, no matter how “grown-up” they are. And I promise to do just that.