Already August

It’s August, already.  It’s the August of my oldest child’s 18^th 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.