A few weeks ago I went to see Lauren Alaina and Hannah Harper. The tour is called Stages. Lauren talked briefly about how the name of the tour and her music represents the different chapters and phases of her life. I certainly haven’t lived like she has but I could still relate.
Life is full of stages.
Having been a mother for over 21 years now I can tell you there’s no way to prepare for all the stages of motherhood.
We spend years raising our kids, loving them, showing up for them, being there for the big stuff, the small stuff and everything in between. We spend so much time making sure they know they're loved, that they're supported, and that they always have someone to come to no matter what. And then one day, with what feels like no notice at all, they grow up. They may or may not go off to college. They may or may not fall in love and get married. But regardless of which direction life takes them, they inevitably start building a life of their own and you're left trying to figure out how to be happy for them while also learning how to live with missing them.
My daughter is married now and lives about three hours away with her husband. I truly couldn't be happier for her. For both of them. They have a wonderful marriage, and I love seeing the life they're building together. I want all of those things for her. I want her to experience a wonderful life with the man she loves, make memories, create traditions, and planning their future.
I wouldn't change any of that.
But I miss her.
Sometimes I think those two feelings are harder to reconcile than I expected.
I miss being part of her everyday. I miss the little things. The spontaneous conversations, the random visits, the ordinary moments that never seemed particularly significant at the time. I miss knowing what's going on in her world without having to plan a phone call or wait until the next visit. In reality, three hours isn't that far but it feels a whole lot farther when you just wanna see your girl.
I think what I'm struggling with most isn't necessarily the distance itself. It's the feeling that I'm missing out on parts of her life now. She's navigating life and building a future that I don't get to witness up close. And while I know that's exactly what she's supposed to be doing, there's still a part of me that wishes I could be there for more of it.
Knowing all of this, I also know there's something deeper going on here. Something that has a lot to do with my own childhood and the kind of mother I've tried to be.
Growing up, I don't feel like I had a lot of people in my life who genuinely cared about me. I don't remember feeling like I always had someone I could count on, someone who was consistently there, someone who made me feel like I was important simply because I was me. That has definitely influenced my motherhood more than I care to admit.
I've always wanted my kids to know they matter. To know they're loved. To know that no matter what happens, they have someone who will show up for them. Someone who cares about the details, who wants to hear about their day, who celebrates their accomplishments, and who will be there when life gets hard.
For the past 21 years I’ve overcompensated for the things I felt were missing in my own childhood. Maybe I've poured a little extra into motherhood because I know what it feels like to wish someone would pour into you.
I've never wanted my children to question whether they were important to someone. I've never wanted them to feel like an inconvenience or an afterthought. I wanted them to have the kind of love and security that I didn't always feel growing up. Maybe that's part of why this transition is so hard for me.
When so much of your life has been centered around loving, raising, protecting, and showing up for your kids, it's difficult to adjust when they no longer need you in quite the same ways.
I know that doesn't mean they love you any less. I know it doesn't mean you've become less important. I know it's healthy and good for them to grow up, find their person, and create a life of their own. If they didn’t, then I didn’t do my job... But knowing all of that doesn't automatically make the adjustment easier.
I'm learning that being needed isn't the same thing as being loved. Just because my daughter doesn't need me in the everyday ways she once did doesn't mean there's any less love between us. I'm learning to miss her without making her feel guilty for leaving. I can wish she lived closer without wishing she had chosen a different life. I can feel a little sadness over what has changed while being genuinely grateful for what she's gained.
I want her to go. I want her to experience life. I want her to build a marriage, make memories, and have a thousand little adventures with her husband. I want her to be happy and fulfilled. I want her to have a life that she loves and deserves.
I just wish I could be a little closer to it.
I guess this is just another one of those things motherhood teaches you that nobody really talks about. Sometimes loving your kids means learning to take a big step back. Sometimes it means being happy from a distance. Sometimes it means getting used to being included in different ways. And sometimes it means missing someone who is still very much a part of your life.
I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to be there for all the little things. I'll probably always wish I could stop by for a quick visit, have a dinner, or be there for an ordinary afternoon.
My role in her life hasn’t disappeared, it’s just changed. I don’t need to stop missing the way things used to be, I need to make room for this new chapter without constantly wishing it looked like the old one.
My hope is that I've given my kids roots strong enough to grow and wings big enough to leave. I hope they know they can build beautiful lives of their own without ever questioning whether they have a place to come back to.
To my daughter, if you ever read this: I hope you know how happy I am for you. I hope you never feel like you have to make your world smaller to make room for me. Keep growing. Keep dreaming. Keep building the life you want and deserve. I am now, always have been and will forever be your biggest fan.