Losing Sleep
I have been losing sleep lately trying to help my daughter Elaina. She is almost grown, I have known this for awhile, but it is now daily pressing on my consciousness. She is seventeen, and independent. Most of the time at least, but lately she has needed me. It is a difficult place for her and for me. She wants to break out on her own, but she is still wobbly on her feet.
She has been getting a taste of the world. It is exciting to be independent, to chart your own path. Still it is a cold dark place out there. I want her to succeed, but I constantly find myself looking back over my shoulder at the million little faults in the path we have walked as a parent and child.
Did I really lead her the way I should have?
I hate that question, but still it follows me every day. I remember when she was born. I was so happy to have a little girl. She was so precious and unique in her features. I loved her instantly and was sure I would raise her the best way that I could.
Time passed…and here we are.
I’ve been losing sleep.
When I first held her in my arms I didn’t know who the tiny little bundle would grow up to be. I had only heard rumors about the process of raising a child being hard. Naively I didn’t think all the bad teenage things would ever happen to my sweet innocent little pink baby girl. No, I was happily oblivious, and I am glad because mothers look back to such moments of novice bliss and smile.
One early morning a few days ago as I sat on the couch doing my devotions I heard a refreshing sound coming from the window behind me. It didn’t register until little Judah stood next to me. His morning hair was rumpled as he leaned up against my leg in his footie pajamas. I put down my bible to pull him up for a hug.
“Mommy, there is a cute bird out there,” he pointed toward the window. My ears became aware of the little song as we drew back the curtains. A brown plump Robin was perched on the branch of our tree. “Spring is coming, Judah,” I said happily. He smiled as he watched the little bird.
In truth, raising kids is a lot like a mother bird in her nest of hatchlings. Each of her offspring start out completely dependent upon her for all their essential needs. The mother spends much of her time caring, sheltering and feeding her young. But after time the little ones become juveniles and desire to try their own wings.
“Hey Mama, I don’t want to eat your worms anymore, I want to fly.”
For us, there also comes a day when the teenager we have raised grows restless in our nest and begins to do all sorts of things to get our attention. But like the mother bird, I am guilty of not really listening. I have busied myself with tidying the nest, updating the family calendar, and reminding my juvenile of all her deadlines for scholarships…
It is easy to distract myself so I don’t have to take in the reality that my mommy days are drawing to a close. My little Elaina bird is getting ready to fly. I find myself saying, “She has already attempted, but thankfully mom was there to rescue her.”
You might think, Get a grip lady, your child is growing up! But I would venture to say we all hold on tightly to things we know are changing. Change is a threat when we truly love something.
Getting back to the mother bird analogy, a mom is happy to be there while the younger bird feels frustrated and insecure about her own wings. She knows this young one has a burning passion to fly but is not always sure if she has what it takes to succeed.
To be honest, the mother bird doesn’t always have the confidence either.
But the mother comforts her young and encourages her to try again. She tells the fledgling that she will be a mighty bird, all the while she hopes in faith that her words will ring true for her headstrong child who doesn’t want to listen to caution.
Looking back at her own launch she remembers the restlessness her daughter feels. She had it too, it is a part of growing up. The pressure to jump out and try your wings is innate but the mother bird looks at her offspring and wonders if she is ready. She knows her daughter’s tendencies and she worries. She finds herself hovered closely to the younger as if she could stop time. It is how her heart can process the inevitable launch.
As I write this, thoughts of little blond pigtails pop into my mind. Here come the tears. My little girl is now almost grown, she is more woman than girl.
“Did I do enough?” I wonder as I lay on my bed in the darkness. It is 11:30 PM again, as I have been spending more time with her getting her scholarship applications in. I have been helping her with college class homework, and though I am tired I fight to just be with her. I need this time even if I wake up exhausted.
The years… where have they gone?
I can still see the self reliant kindergartener jump out of the mini van on her first day of school. Her hands on her hips as her backpack swings back and forth. She is strutting toward the door without even pausing to look over her shoulder to say goodbye.
This time I need a goodbye.
In a bird’s life at the season’s end, the youth grows into a subadult: the stage when the young bird can actually live and fly on its own but still lacks experience and the markings of a full grown adult. Now the mother must let go so her offspring can launch.
I compare us to birds but in reality, real live birds don’t feel sad when their young leap from the nest. They know by instinct the cycle of life. They fly away without regrets, but as human beings we are not so instinctual. We bond with our children, we give them our name and raise them carefully in hopes that we would have a relationship with them for our lifetime.
I know I must let go, so that one day my daughter will want to return for a visit. She will want to pick up the phone to hear my voice. We will still be close even when she is fully grown and starting a family of her own, but right now I am losing sleep over the process.
Are you losing sleep over something right now? It might not be a transition like having a child graduate from high school, but you feel the same sense of apprehension. Maybe it’s your job, or getting older. What do we do with this pressing anxiety?
I am not a counselor or expert by any means but I can say pausing to be honest about the struggle is helping. In this season I am reflecting on the wonder of being a mother, and thanking God for all the moments I get to have right now with my daughter.
I pray.
My heart is too connected to this young woman not to look up to a Higher power. Not to seek the Creator God for wisdom. I can worry for sure, but I don’t act very gracefully under such strain. Instead, I am learning to reflect on what God has done for my daughter. I am learning to trust Him for what lies beyond the nest. As she is prepping her wings for flight I praise the Lord for this beautiful opportunity to truly love someone enough to let her go.
Whatever situation you face today, I hope you will not give up in letting go. I hope you will have the strength to face the grief of losing control of something you love. This is my belief: on the other side of the loss, as hard as it is, there is still…
God.
This is an anchor for my soul in troubling times.
“Be strong and courageous: do not be afraid or terrified of them; for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.”
Dear Elaina,
I know you are almost grown. You are strong, bold and beautiful. I believe in you. You have big dreams, but I know you can accomplish them. When the pressure gets overwhelming, be kind to yourself. I pray you will pick friends with noble character. I hope you will be anchored in your faith in Christ. I encourage you to keep aiming for the stars my dear, but somehow stay down to earth. I am so proud of you.
Love,
Mom