It’s August, already.
It’s the August of my oldest child’s 18th year. Already. I’ve been thinking about this August, in particular, since the
day he was born. On that first night in the hospital, when everyone had gone
home, I looked into those big blue eyes and thought, “You are going to leave in
18 years.” I burst into tears. Morphine and hormones create dramatic
moments, but it was true. My gut told me
this experience was going to go fast, already.
In the weeks leading up to his early (over a month) birth, I
had a lot of doubts. I even had a
conversation with my husband about how worried I was that I wasn’t going to be
a good mom. I had no clue as to what I was doing, no maternal instincts, whatsoever.
The day he was born, I went to work, as usual, and quickly realized I wasn’t
going to be there long. Already?! I am not ready!
Do you know what happened?
Of course, you do. A switch turned
on. Call it maternal instinct, gut, faith, etc. I learned to trust it. Our
pediatrician advised me to always trust it—because in his experience, it was
always right. During one visit, when
that sweet infant cried loudly the entire time we were there, the pediatrician
asked me how long he had been crying. All
day. Every day. We had worn a path in the grass around the
perimeter of our house because that’s the only time he stopped crying—while we
walked him in circles around the outside of the house. Our wise pediatrician
reminded me to trust my gut, to just put him in his crib and let him cry. “After all,” he said, “no one ever failed Algebra
because he was left in his crib to cry it out.” Before I knew it, we were back
in that office telling him he was right, I’d trusted my gut, let him cry it
out, and he had just sailed through algebra.
Already.
I have not spent the last 18 years obsessed with this August
coming, already, but I have always been aware of it. I think that awareness has made me remain
more present in the moment that we are in…to not get too bogged down by what is
coming. There were tough days and easy
days…they pass, eventually and already.
He can do his own laundry, clean a bathroom, make a mean risotto and
fill out a HIPAA form at the doctor’s office.
He’s learned the value of working hard toward goals and that kindness is
the most important rule in our house. “What
did you do for someone today that was kind?” is the question he was asked over
and over at dinner each night. We’ve
given him most of the skills he needs to function as an independent adult.
Those he doesn’t have, yet, he will learn on the fly like the rest of us who
have come before him did. That’s how it
works. We’ve raised him in a loving faith
community surrounded by saints. ”For All
the Saints”…it’s going to be running through your head all day now—you are
welcome. If he leaves that community for a while, he knows it will be here
waiting for him when he is ready to come back…already.
I am prepared for him to go (there is a difference between
being prepared and being ready, though). It won’t be easy. I expect it will
actually be pretty hard, but my gut tells me it will be an amazing adventure
for him. My gut tells me it will be a privilege
to watch his adult life unfold, already.
My gut is never wrong.
