I’ve watched you grow up right before my eyes this summer. In your confidence, in your readiness to face change, in your willingness to tackle whatever comes your way. All summer I listened as the screen door slammed behind you, as you went out on your own to explore the same neighborhood I explored as a girl. I watched as you started middle school without a falter in your step. I stood back, with pride, as you took on the new challenges without a backward glance.
But I wasn’t ready for the last two weeks.
I wasn’t ready for a girl.
When you casually told me you’d asked a girl to the school dance, I was a little taken aback. My mom senses hadn’t tingled, my mom-tennae hadn’t picked up on any unusual activity. Still, I didn’t take it too seriously.
When you told me about the back and forth correspondence I was caught off guard. When I caught you getting up early in the morning to check for new correspondence I started to wonder.
When I caught you doodling her name on bits of scrap paper, my stomach flopped over.
“You.Are.Freaking.Me.Out.” I said. But you just…smiled. A new smile. I smile I didn’t recognize. A smile that maybe, could be (oh-God-already???) for someone else.
During this last two weeks of young–let’s not call it love, let’s call it curiosity–I’ve gone from oh, isn’t that cute to full-blown stomach dropping panic. The same feeling I get when you dangle a foot too close to the edge–when one false step can send you hurtling into nothingness.
Your dad asked if I was afraid you would get your feelings hurt. But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.
I’m not ready to give you up.
You see, for some reason us boy moms are expected to back off when it comes to other females. Oh, sure, we’ll probably be consulted here and there on matters of the heart. We’ll engage you in thousands of conversations about respect and consent. But when you are mom to a boy, there are ingrained expectations that one day you’re going to up and leave, not just physically, but emotionally. Us boy moms are indoctrinated to expect that someday you’ll hitch your wagon to another gal’s star and take off for the moon. And us boy moms? We are advised to stay out of it, not become too involved, do everything we can to avoid becoming the dreaded stereotype of the meddling mother-in-law. We are urged to accept that fact that some day another woman will replace us in your hearts and that’s just the way it should be. A daughter is a daughter for life, a son is a son until he takes a wife and all that malarkey. I don’t necessarily believe it has to be true, but I’m also not one to take chances.
Oh, I know you’re so, so young. This will be the first of many crushes, the first of many moments of hummingbird heart flutters, of butterflies and stomach flips. I remember them. I remember them with the first boy I kissed and I remember the way they made me feel when I met your Dad all those years ago. There will be plenty of flits and flutters for you as well. There will be disappointments and heartaches. There is so much ahead of you. But if this is your first faltering step, there is something I want you to know.
You are worth fighting for.
I fought for you. I fought hard to bring you into the world when it looked like it wasn’t meant to be and I fought hard to keep you here. For nine months I shielded you with my body, with the comfort of my very own self, but just because you were born doesn’t mean that I stopped cradling you, stopped cocooning you. I protect you with every fiber of myself. I still fight for you every day, though you may not see it or be aware of it or know it. I am a mother. I do what mothers do.
You are worth fighting for.
Don’t give your heart away to someone who isn’t worthy of looking after it. There will be those along the way who have temporary custody, those from whom you will learn. Love, like many things, can take time to learn to practice well. There will be those who love you more and those you love more. You will think you can’t go on, can’t tolerate the pain of a reciprocity not given, but you can. I promise. It’s often out of the ashes of those flames that the best parts of yourself are born. But whether it’s for a day or a week or a vow of forever, make sure whoever holds your heart is strong enough to keep it safe.
I hope some day you meet the right person, the one who will fight for you as hard as I have. The one whose chest will dance with the beats of your heart and the music of your breath. Look for the warrior in their soul, that core of shining armor willing to battle for you. Not fight for your love or for your respect, but willing to protect the squishy inner bits of you, the ones so delicate and ancient we keep them hidden. Summon the warrior within as well. Do the same for her. May you both close your eyes at night knowing there is someone there to shield your heart.
I know this is all a long way off. I hope this is a long way off; but if the last two weeks are any indicator, probably not as long as I’d like it to be.
If I do have to turn you over one day, I’ll sleep easier knowing you’ve hitched your heart to someone who will battle just as hard as I do.
*I’m using the pronoun she for the sake of flow. Right now it’s a she. In the end it could be a he. It could be a they. Love is love, heartbreak is heartbreak, and my hopes holds true regardless.