It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! No one ever told me the wrenching pain that comes with your fledgling bird taking that final leap from the nest! No one told me about the stabbing grief that seizes you in the very middle of your being when you realize she is not only not coming home but calling some place you have never seen home. I was totally blindsided. Actually, maybe friends had alluded to the changes that come with your child moving out. Maybe they mentioned it would be sad. Perhaps they even said you would have to adjust but I feel like I am completely reweaving every nerve fiber, renovating my soul as her life flashes before my eyes at the most unexpected times.
I suppose the conspiracy is similar to that which happens when you are pregnant. Other mothers sigh noncommittally about the pain of childbirth. They may say it is the worst pain they have ever lived through but they say it with a smile so you don’t really get it. They play it down, I am sure, so as not to scare you. And, after all, your own experience might be different. Of course, they are right. If you knew, the whole human race might come to a screeching halt.
If I had realized the heartbreak of Marci leaving home maybe I wouldn’t have bonded with her so thoroughly. Maybe I would’ve have kept her at an arm’s length though this may have made breastfeeding a bit cumbersome. Just think of all those times happily baking cookies with her, clapping at the end of Disney movies, proudly displaying her grade cards…no, never mind, it will only make me cry.
But don’t get me wrong. There are also times of laughter. For instance, I laugh wryly at myself now for so blithely teaching her to drive, taking her numerous times to the DMV to pass her driving test and then actually helping her buy the vehicle she would later use to leave! What was I thinking!
When Marci first came home with us from the hospital there were so many firsts. There was her first ride in her car seat! Her first bath! Her first diaper change without the supervision of the nurses. Now there are different firsts. The first trip to the grocery store where I am not buying special foods she likes. The first time I sleep through the night (or not) without an ear set to hear her key in the door. The first time I come home from work without her breakfast and lunch dishes in the sink. The first time I watch what I want on TV with no one making snarky comments about why I watch such trash. The first time I buy cookies knowing I will get to eat more than one before they get spirited up to her room to reside under her bed where they will slowly turn to dust through no fault of her own.
Raising a child is a trip. The key word is raising when all along I thought the key word was child. However, from the word go we teach our babies how to grow up in the best way possible. Our main job is preparing them to be healthy, happy adults. So, in the end, I have to tell myself good job, well done. I have succeeded but who knew the reward would be so painful! It is like giving birth all over again but in reverse.
Yet, if there is any conspiracy it is the conspiracy applied to all of life. Love is too beautiful and precious to scare others from it by grousing about the down sides. And, if I could do it all over again I would do it the same, even now… knowing the outcome.
