It’s no secret that I have been struggling with my girls getting older and becoming adults. There are very few things I have felt both deeply passionate about and pulled toward so fervently. Being a parent with something that called to my soul and pulled at my heart from my late teens until, at long last, I was pregnant with Amara at age 37. Havana’s birth two years later satisfied that decades old yearning. I was beyond grateful to support those two small souls landing on earth and growing up to be good citizens on this planet.
It is no secret how much I cherish my two small gems. I have an entire blog dedicated to them. I planned my early professional life (well it’s a calling not just a profession but I won’t digress) around being able to spend as much time with them as possible. I built community around other parents, so we had a strong network of friends, play dates and support so that they thrived. I took them with me when I traveled, forcing them to be my travel buddies from the time they were just months old and now we have countless memories, both good and challenging, of our adventures. They now have a respect of an understanding of the world and it’s differences and a love of the natural world. I have made sure they had what they needed to grow into the persons they are meant to be by ensuring they were educated by teachers who taught history truthfully, that fostered community building, that nurtured independence and agency, that was inclusive and fostered questioning, that not only spoke of but practiced social and racial justice and of course, the importance of giving back. All of this was to support them into being who they are meant to grow to be and be good people when they are adults.
I am the furthest person from perfect and that is reflected at times in my parenting. I have too many flaws to count. Yet my love for my two small gems, that can never be questioned. Even now, as I write this blog post, thousands of miles from home on a much needed reset holiday, I speak with them at least half a dozen times a day via FaceTime and texting. The communication goes both ways. I will miss them and want to share something, so I call. They have something going on and want my input or just want to talk so they FaceTime. So while I have failed as a parent in so many ways, our bond is mighty and impenetrable and I trust I (and of course their dad) have laid enough of a strong foundation and planted enough seeds to ensure a safe, stable, healthy, spiritually balanced life as adults.
I want them to grow and branch out. And still I am not ready. I am aware I have this last year of high school for Amara to process all my feelings. I am aware that our recent trip to Oregon to visit colleges pushed my limits at times for how much I am willing and not willing to feel. I am aware that I had to step into the bathroom so I could cry silently at the reality that Amara, my little eagle, is about to take flight.
Of course, I want her to soar. I know she will do just that. Her passion for life, her curiosity, her love of community and her kindness will carry her far. I am thrilled she is going to do what she is so ready for. Is that not what all parents have wanted since the beginning of time? To see their gems leave and blossom into their truest selves? Yes AND. And I am just not fully ready yet.
Despite all my emotions and struggles with the individuation of Amara, I am beyond proud of her and am excited for where she ends out and what she ends up doing. The college decision has been slightly daunting on her. She is both beyond ready and understandably nervous. But mostly she is ready. She was born to explore this world and do great things and that she will do. Whether I am ready or not. No matter where I am at mentally and emotionally in a year from now, I will however, support her and be her biggest cheerleader. She is a rock star and I know that no matter how hard it will be, that millions of parents have taken this path before me and survived and so will I.
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