Motherhood: Our Privilege

My daughter looked at me with complete disdain this morning muttering about my stupidity under her breath. By lunch time I had received three text messages containing trivial content about the upcoming prom plans. And by the time she arrived home from school, she was calling me “mommy”; something she reserves for times when she wants something above and beyond.

You see, my daughter is a high school senior. This elastic band of a relationship we have right now is necessary and painful. I watch as she fights for freedom and snaps back to being a child. My woman child.

She is scared. She won’t say it.

I am scared. I won’t say it.

My first-born. The one whom I really believed I was born to parent. I had it all wrong.

She was born to give me the privilege of motherhood and to teach me humility and the important lesson of self-sacrifice.

I’m scared I didn’t do right by her. I didn’t give her the gift of street smarts. In my effort to protect her, did I handicap her? Did I give her too much or too little of the character building opportunities that only failure and trial and error produce? And most importantly, does she know she was and is worth it? All of it?

I’m not an overly sentimental person. I’ve been described as aloof and direct, not sappy. So it was much to my surprise what great pleasure I experienced from putting together a simple scrapbook of my daughter’s school years. The trials of the past few years made me forget what an accomplished young woman she is. It’s good to remember. I’m so proud of her.

To all you parents–it’s okay to be scared. We are privileged. Congratulations as you release one from the nest this year.

Fast Forward: My daughter, pictured above, is a full-time banker and is exploring the future she really wants for herself. Caroline, if you are reading this today, we love you and are so proud of you.