(Trigger warning: mention of child death, but not actual! Just as a basis for comparison)
My husband and I are blessed with one biological child: a nearly-eighteen-year-old, tall, handsome, responsible, kind, gentle young man. I may be a bit biased, but he really does seem to be a good guy. I love that boy with all my Zach-loving heart! That has 100% not changed, nor will it likely ever.
….And yet, thinking back on his infancy & childhood, returning my mind to snuggling with him, breastfeeding him, carrying him around, laughing and playing with that little boy…. That’s all definitely gone, never to be retrieved. It’s just as well that our young adult progeny doesn’t require breastfeeding or carrying, goodness knows! We’re proud of his achievements in the various aspects of his life, not the least of which is his ability to nourish himself and get himself around, not only within the house but now from one suburb or city – or state – to the next; and we wouldn’t change a thing about him, really……
It’s just that it hurts. I blessedly haven’t experienced a child of mine dying – praise be to God! I hope I never will, and my heart aches for those who have; but it occurs to me that this transformation from little child to grown (nearly) adult is akin to that. The baby that we knew, the toddler, the rambunctious preschooler, the inquisitive, parent-adoring, question-asking schoolboy, he’s definitely gone. We weathered the holier-than-thou phase of adolescence and, I’m happy to say, appear to be on the other side of that: Zach really is such a sweet young man, and I very much love sharing hugs and kisses and laughs and insights with his nearly-adult self. I wouldn’t trade him for the world! ..I just mourn the loss of my sweet little boy, sometimes.
Looking back at old photos of his infancy and childhood is bittersweet: I absolutely adore it, and yet, it tears a little bit of my heart, every time. I don’t wallow in the loss (unless, of course, he’s being a real pain in the tuchus!) I enjoy the neary-eighteen-year-old Zach every day. It’s just…. Well….. If you’re a mom of a grown child, you know what I mean, right?
“…[T]he innocence flowing into the souls of parents conjoins itself with the innocence of their infants. That the conjunction is effected by the mediation of the senses of the body, but especially by touch, can be learned by parents from experience. Thus, the sight is inmostly delighted at seeing them, the hearing by their speech, the smell by their odor. That the communication and thence the conjunction of the innocences is effected especially by the touch, is manifestly perceived from the pleasure felt in carrying them in the arms, and from hugging and kissing them. This is especially the case with mothers. They experience delight from the pressure of their mouth and face against their bosom and, at the same time, from the touch of their palms there, and, in general, from the sucking of the breasts and the giving suck; also from stroking their naked body and the unwearied labor of swathing and cleansing them on their knees.” (Conjugial Love 396)
“[Spiritual] fathers and mothers, after they have tasted the sweetness of innocence with their infants, love their children altogether otherwise than natural fathers and mothers. The spiritual love their children according to their spiritual intelligence and moral life; thus they love them according to their fear of God and actual piety, or piety of life, and at the same time according to their affection for and application to uses serviceable to society, that is, according to the virtues and good morals with them.” (Conjugial Love 405)
Oh my, Jenn – you hit the nail on the head! Often when I see a mom with a young child, I pause and bask in the glow and memories of that sweetness. I ‘borrow’ that innocence for a few moments. And it’s fun to share these thoughts with our own kids, accompanied by a photo of their cute, innocent selves. What a powerful reminder that the Lord has many ways of reaching us as we go about our lives.
Interesting perspective, Jenn!
Oh yes yes yes Jenn well said! I wander into my girls’ rooms and just sit there sometimes, weepy if I’m perimenopausal, thoughtful sometimes. (they are both gone, but only just. they still have rooms.)
Here’s how my friend Ann put it, (this is when her eldest daughter left home)
“Overwhelming mix of emotions for this mom— wonder in her ability to dream big and pull it off, awe in her intensity of passion and determination, excitement and joy for the adventures ahead, a touch of doubt worried I didn’t cover the essentials to set her up to thrive with resilience, total confidence in her abilities, and admittedly totally selfish however intense and overwhelming heartbreak that suddenly in the blink of an eye we’ve reach that point where if all goes as hoped she will be mostly gone far away and home only briefly from here on out. Laughing at my breakdown with [my husband]. Feeling like parenthood is rather cruel- we set ourselves up to aim for this point of setting them free into the world, but along the way get so attached, never want to hold them back but success brings this heartache.”
This is more about when they actually LEAVE, I realize, but you know that time is coming. And you’re right, there’s mourning to be done as they leave each stage.
Yet it feels impossible to fully appreciate each stage as it’s there too! I know I will also mourn the end of the stage we’re at right now, (young adult children).
To me it sometimes feels like a healthy confrontation with my own proprium too, or “storge” …. how much of my love of my child is actually a love of myself? Sometimes this can be quite difficult to parse out, methinks….