My Mother’s Day Gift

Several years ago I began a journey to find my “why.” While exploring, I came to understand and believe that we have two primary emotions: love and fear. Every other emotion stems from one of these. Worry, anger, anxiety, judgement, jealousy, resentment, and doubt originate from fear. Joy, peace, happiness, confidence, hope, honesty, and understanding arise from a place of love. During the past couple of years I have come to realize that I have lived most of my life out of fear—and I have passed some of this on to my children. I have made a choice to now live out of love.

Below is a letter I wrote to my first-born son.

Dear  Evan,

Before I became pregnant with you I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to have children. No one told me I couldn’t. Having children was something I had always dreamed of, and fear creeped in. While I carried you in my belly, I worried about what may happen as you grew inside me. As I read multiple parenting books, I doubted my ability to be the mom I wanted to be. I was thrilled and frightened at the same time—and then you were born.

I felt a love like no other. Love flowed from every cell of my body, and I was overwhelmed by this love. Within hours came fear—fear that God would take you back after sending me his angel. I placed a monitor under your mattress to detect every breath you took. As I held you to my chest, this fear invisibly seeped through your newborn skin. I wasn’t aware I was capable of passing this fear on to you, but I was.  During your infancy my fears continued: When would you sit up? Would you be a picky eater? Because if you were, you would certainly never get invited to a dinner party when you were older.

As you grew into a toddler I questioned most everything: Would you learn to share? Be potty trained by a reasonable age? In my mind there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to attend kindergarten because you would still be in a pull-up. Would you ever sleep through the night, or would I send you off to college to wake up your roommate for a sip of water? Preschool brought concerns of fine and gross motor skills: Could you stand on one foot with your eyes closed for 14 seconds and not fall? Were you a Late Emergent Reader or a Transitional Reader? This was clearly going to dictate whether you would go to college or not. Why was there a curve on your Developmental Readiness Report—shouldn’t it be uniform?

When you turned the ripe old age of 5, I became concerned about what sports you would play, and how you would play them; what friends you had, and how you would keep them; what school you would go to, and the grades you would get. How much did you grow each year? Would you always need glasses? Would you be empathetic and connect with others? You didn’t make eye contact with the stranger in the park today—were you on the spectrum? Honestly, I’m exhausted right now from reflecting on how fear controlled me. I love you more than anything, but I didn’t let love lead. I was parenting from fear and not faith. I wanted nothing more than to set you up for success, simultaneously knowing you needed to fail in order to learn. I did all of this with a smile on my face. My fears were hidden from the playgroup moms, and from my friends who knew me so well. 

As I write this you are 11. You walk, talk, eat, and sleep through the night. You are handsome and smart, you play sports, and wear contacts. Your heart is kind and compassionate. You talk back to me, while looking me in the eyes. You play way too much Fortnite, fight with your siblings, refuse to eat asparagus, and wipe your egg-laden hands on your school clothes each morning. You see, Evan, you are perfect!

It wasn’t the worry and anxiety that created the wonderful boy you are, it was the love. Thankfully love found its way through the fear! Love is so powerful, and it will always prevail. I have only recently discovered this. The hours and days I spent worrying about what may happen distracted me on what was happening. My beautiful boy was blossoming and growing, and I didn’t take it all in.  

As for the fear that seeped through—the one that causes you to doubt yourself and causes you to worry—I promise to help guide you out of its grip. I promise to lead by example and to teach you all I have learned about fear and love. I will talk with you about why I believe I chose fear.   

On this Mother’s Day, I am giving myself a gift, the gift of forgiveness and grace. I’m forgiving myself for letting fear guide me for so long, and for inadvertently passing it on to you. After many years I have decided to follow my soul, my heart, my faith. I choose love. The peace and joy that comes with this choice is endless. Take my hand, sweet boy, as I lead you on this wonderful journey—to a place of love that we will explore together, and where we will grow beyond our wildest dreams.

All my love,
Mom