The Hardest Part of Being a Parent

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

You can feel that baby growing inside of you, waiting for the natural birth process to begin.  The time draws near and during the most severe contractions, you find yourself trying to bargain with the universe.  You say that you’re willing to remain swollen and pregnant forever, if only the pain will stop.  They tell you to start pushing.  Push now!  Harder!  C’mon, you can do it!!

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

Your child is born.  As that child grows she begins to discover her world and herself.  She learns that she has hands.  She’ll feed herself, thank you.  She begins to crawl and then walk.  She falls and cries.  You want to run to help her, but you don’t.  You know that she must learn to shake it off and get up and try again.  She must fall many times before she masters the art of walking.  Each fall breaks your heart.  If she keeps depending on you, she will never learn to depend on herself.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

She begins kindergarten.  You walk her to school that very first day.  She’s excited and can’t wait to get there.  She walks into the classroom, as grown up as she can be at her fragile age.  She waves goodbye to you as if she’s been doing it all her life.  The anticipation of her new journey prevents her from seeing the tears in your eyes as you realize she’s not a baby anymore.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

She’s in fourth grade now.  She wants her own cell phone.  She wants to go to the mall with her friends.  Everyone else’s parents are cool, and you are a loser.  Don’t you even dare trying to hold her hand in public now.  She’s not a baby anymore.  You find yourself hoping for a thunderstorm so that she’ll want to seek comfort in your arms again, even if it’s just for a little while.  Instead, she wants to stay up until 10 PM to watch a TV show.  You tell her no, and she stomps off to her room screaming about how mean you are to her.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

How has time passed so quickly that she’s in high school already?  Driver’s Ed?  You’re kidding, right?  No?  Well, if you keep your grades up, we’ll give it a try. 
Do you have any homework?  I did it at school.
Do you have any homework?  I did it on the bus.
Do you have any homework?  Not today, mom.
The next report card has Four D’s.  You are so disappointed in her.  She is so much smarter than that!  I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait until next summer for Driver’s Ed.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

It’s 11:30 PM.  She’s not home.  She’s 30 minutes late.  Where is she?  At 2am the phone rings.  Juvenile Detention Center is calling.  Drugs?  My child?  You know you taught her right from wrong.  You took her to church and prayed right beside her the night she asked Jesus to come into her heart.  You had all the talks about smoking, alcohol, sex and drugs.  She made a bad choice.  You still love her, but ache inside for her.  You allow her to take the consequences for her behavior, probation.  She violates it again and is back in jail.  Again, again and again. 

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

She’s 18 now.  You are no longer in authority over her, she tells you.  She’s leaving home.  Her boyfriend and her are going to see the country.  Their mode of transportation will be hitchhiking and stealing rides on boxcars of trains.  You can send her off with a screaming match and the harsh slap of angry words, or you can send her off with a hug in the hopes that she will eventually find herself along the way.  What will she remember more, the slaps or the hugs?  You opt for the hugs.  After she leaves, you sit down and cry until you’re exhausted.  You’ve done all you can.  The rest is up to her.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

She’s in her early 20’s now.  She only calls when she’s in jail.  A few months ago she told you that she has hepatitis C from using dirty needles.  She got arrested for heroin possession.  She could have opted for treatment to have the charge expunged from her record.  She chose to be convicted instead.  You have to come to terms with the fact that your firstborn, your precious daughter, is now a convicted drug felon.  Unless she gets help, you will outlive her.  Yet, she doesn’t want help.  She just wants out of jail.  You let her sit there.  Her choices, her consequences, even though it breaks your heart.

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

When will “the call” come?  You cringe every time the phone rings and you don’t recognize the number on the caller ID.  Is this the day you’ll have to go identify her body?  Will you even recognize her after the drugs have left her body emaciated?  You’re thankful that you let her get that tattoo for her 17th birthday.  You really didn’t want her to get it at the time, but now you’re glad you did.  It will help to identify her.  You’re also glad that you took out that insurance policy on her when she turned 18.  You hoped you’d never have to use it, but each day that passes is one day closer to having to open that folder in the filing cabinet.  You know you are not to blame, yet it doesn’t ease the hurt or the sadness. 

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

How do some kids make it through their childhood and turn out to be responsible adults and some don’t?  It doesn’t matter if they’re from a two or one parent home, their economic status or geographical location.  You’ve seen children raised in the worst of circumstances become complete successes, and have seen those raised with every imaginable opportunity squander it for a life of destruction.  It’s a complete and utter crapshoot, you realize, and it makes you so very sad.  You’re so sad you can’t even cry. 

The hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

Then one day, you’re out running errands and going to appointments and the tears start to flow.  It doesn't matter that you're in public.  You can’t stop it, nor do you want to.  You lay down your pride and forsake your mantra of "If it hurts, hide it and if you're scared, don't show it."  You just want to cry, and cry and cry.  The relief the tears bring is unspeakable.  It doesn’t stop the pain or the sadness, but once it passes, it will allow you to function once again.  So you call in sick for work and sit down and having a good, long cry.  And you know so very well that the hardest part of being a parent is learning to let go.

9/11/07