It was a blink of an eye ago, the day you became mine. My little silver backed gorilla, so angry at being ripped out of my safe warm belly and thrust into a world so loud and bright.
Was that really 18 years ago? 18 years ago you made me a mama. 18 years ago you changed me forever more. 18 years ago i discovered pure, selfless, unconditional love.
When i gaze back across those years, the images flicker and jolt like an old movie; its hard to hold onto a single frame for more than a second. We’ve come so far you and i, on this incredible journey as mother and child. We’ve covered so many miles and learnt together how to live this life we fell into.
If I’m honest I never expected to get to this point. I’ve always felt like a fraud, like someone was going turn up and take you away- “you aren’t a real grown up!” They’d say; “You can’t be in change of this tiny human!”.
I knew I’d fight to the death to keep you, but i never considered we would ever get to the point that you would naturally leave me.
The next adventure.
The big bad world.
Did i prepare you enough? Have i done my job and taught you what you need to survive on your own? Will you cope with the million tiny responsibilities that are thrust upon you when you finally fly the nest?
Will you keep yourself safe?
As a mother that, despite my best efforts to be fun and carefree, has firmly been planted in the helicopter faction, i worry.
I worry you’ll forget to look when you cross the road whilst running with your headphones in.
I worry you’ll get in a friends car and forget to put your seatbelt on.
I worry you’ll get drunk and leave the cooker on.
I worry your carefree friendly Cornish nature will leave you naive to the dangers of walking alone in the city at night.
I worry that you’ll smile and be oblivious to that guy in that bar thats looking for a fight with some fresh blood.
I worry that your kindness will be exploited and you’ll end up broke and broken.
I’m not ready.
You’ve not trained me in how to cope without you.
I can feel you slipping through my fingers. Like water, you rush to join the stream that leads you to the open ocean. The deep, huge, terrifying ocean.
I taught you to swim though, right?
We’ve only been apart for mere days, never weeks or months. I’m not even sure how to go about preparing myself as a mother for such a fundamental change in my life. This week we’ve practised- you’ve made me live in a world dominated by your sisters and without our only boy.
Did you do that to help prepare me for you leaving me? I hope you did.
You see I’m not brave enough to do this alone, i need your help to get used to a world where I don’t get to hug you each day. To get me ready to not see your goofy face and huge smile through the window as you get home. To help me adjust to a home without my boy asking me weird questions and imparting strange nuggets of information about the world into my brain.
You’ve become my buddy, my boy.
My main man.
I guess you always were my main man, even as a squirming, screaming, mama obsessed bundle, 18 years ago. Now you truly are the most important man in my life. You’ve been an incredible role model for your sisters and as a human being you are one of the best i know. I truly mean that.
Kind. Loving. Smart. Honest. Patient. Calm. Gentle. Brave.
Brave; oh i cant begin to tell you how proud i am of you. Like your mama, you are a survivor, a fighter and despite life throwing spectacular challenges your way, you always bounce back, head held high, full of love and compassion.
You are everything a man should be, my boy, never forget that. Continue to Fight with hope and kindness in your heart and you will survive.
It’s going to take us all time to get used to this new version of our family with you stretching the strings for your next big adventure.
I will try to grow and learn to let you go. Ill cut those apron strings eventually, I promise. I guess There should be space between us as you leave the nest and enter the world for your first solo flight; It’s how we all learnt to survive the big bad world.
By living and standing on our own two feet.
So, my boy, my first born, the one who made me a mama, fly steady and strong.
Live your very best life.
But know that there will always be room under my wing, in the nest for you.