Loving mothers love their children. I don't want to devalue another mother's love and devotion to her children by assuming that I appreciate my motherhood more because it didn't come easily. It took several years for me to have my first baby, and I experienced several difficult miscarriages throughout my childbearing years. That colors my every experience as a mother, and I mindfully cherish my role because I understand what it means.
My daughter turned 14 this month, and she has truly been off in the world (though not too far) with a great deal of fledgling independence this summer. This was her 3rd year at Young Women's Camp. 5 days there. She was able to attend Youth Conference because the cut-off date was her actual birthday. 3 days there. She is currently at EFY for 5 days, and this is the furthest she's ever been from me without at least her dad. None of our familiar local ward members are there supervising. It was a big step, and I encouraged her in taking it. Not without some heart flutters, mind you, but with excitement for her as she grows and finds her way. She has been so eager to go, and she saved part of the registration cost herself.
Isabel and 2 other girls from our ward set off on the 4-hour drive with the other girls' dad Monday morning. By 4:00 I was hearing from Isabel and she was crying and having a tone that was so far from her bright, adventurous spirit that I was ready to jump in the car and go get her. Nick and I prayed for and with her, and I was restless all night hoping she'd feel better after a good night's rest. She wasn't home even 48 hours between Youth Conference and EFY, so I thought it was possible she was just exhausted. By this morning, she sounded slightly more hopeful, but I still felt something was off. She called again when it was time to settle into their rooms tonight and there was a clear shift for the better in her mood. I felt so much relief. I knew I couldn't leave her there through the week if she didn't come around, but I wanted to give her the chance to rally. She shared about her day and some of the fun they had, and I mentally put my keys away for the night.
Isabel has always been a steady thing. Happy, content, easy-going. "Seeing" her out of sorts really turned my world on its ear. I find myself wondering if I struck the right balance of protectiveness and faith in her that she would find her way. I am not a helicopter parent, so I'd hate to startle her by suddenly squashing an opportunity for her to learn and grow free from my intervention. But what if I fail her by not coming to the rescue when she really needed it? I think I succeeded, but I won't be surprised if this comes out in therapy someday. There has to be some therapy fodder in here somewhere.
I've spent the last 14 years mindfully parenting in precisely the opposite manner to which I myself was parented. I'm hoping to minimize the damage to my own children, but I feel almost as if it is impossible that they won't be angry at me for something someday. How can someone with so much baggage not shove some of it off on their own kids, right?
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