Letting Go with Love
Originally published in Women's LifeStyle, June 2004

The first time I had to let her go was within minutes of her birth. She was a tiny, red squalling bundle and, because of her premature debut into the world, she was whisked away from my arms to be thoroughly examined. Pangs of worry overtook me. Was my too tiny daughter going to be alright? Days later, when the standard maternity stay was over, I was informed she had to remain in the neonatal center and I was free to go home. To walk out of that hospital empty-armed was one of the most difficult and gut wrenching moments of my life. It seems as if from the very beginning, I was destined to begin a lifelong process of letting go of my children, as are all of us.

Yesterday, as I walked by her side, touring the campus of the boarding high school she desires to attend, those letting go pangs washed over me once again. For a brief moment, the fear welled up, closing off my throat, constricting it with unexpressed emotion at the thought of only seeing her on weekends. At fourteen, this seems like too much to ask of me - to unreservedly let her go to experience dormitory living and a rich academic life away from home.

The fear and worry abate when I realize I have done this many, many times before with my two older children, now 22 and 20. A boy and a girl, they have each caused me gargantuan moments of angst as they confidently moved in the direction of their desires - “Oh, mom, you’re such a worry wart! I’ll be fine,” was their mantram, while visions of trauma and injury were mine. And yet, I know that I can do it again. This one more time I can let go.

How can we let our children go, gracefully, to fully become the individuals they are meant to be? The answer is not simple or even singular, but a combination of things. It begins not with techniques, but with a mindset. Each one of us, despite our family's best intentions, made choices for ourselves that coalesced into who we are today. Whether good or bad, wise or faulty, these choices resulted in life experiences that were crucial in forming our personalities, talents and and values. We are a unique combination of ‘family of origin’ choices and personal choices, and to disallow one over the other would be foolish and naive. Our children are the product of our choices and yet, they are not. Logically, we must allow them the opportunity to live the results of their choices so that they can fulfill their own destinies. However, emotionally, this is pretty rocky terrain to be traveled as a parent, as I can well attest.

If this mindset is our dominant one, then we can move into step two: Trust. Letting go of our children is an absolute act of trust. I am speaking of trust in the spiritual sense here. Trust that a higher power or universal force is surrounding them, guiding them toward the next highest version of themselves. Trust is no cakewalk, that is for sure. But I think, thank goodness, that our trust lessons begin so early on in our parenting experience, that they build one upon the other and, so, when it is time to do great big letting go’s, we have been somewhat prepared. We trust the very first time we leave our child in someone else’s care. We trust when they climb aboard the big, yellow school bus in kindergarten. We trust when they solo drive for the first time, and so on. When you think about it, from birth day to graduation day, and beyond, we are engaging in little acts of trust.

And then there’s love. One of the most valuable pieces of advice anyone ever gave me was to never, ever, withdraw my love from my children. No matter how they may err or mis-choose, to never stop loving them. This “technique” alone is probably the most powerful aspect of successful letting go. If a child knows that the love is constant, a big forever kind of love, no matter what road they meander down, they will always know that they can come home to your love.

Just imagine... if you could see your child’s life as one of those fairy tale walks through a deep forest, some bright rays of light shining through the leaves, some patches of total darkness. Walking, walking. Never quite knowing which path leads where. Yet, there you are as watchful parent off to the side, a gentle beacon of light, never wavering, strong and steady. When the way gets really rough or uncertain, you’re not there to dictate how to do their journey. What you are there for is to be a luminescent dot in their peripheral vision, a homing signal, if you will, so that they know you’re present, ever-loving, wishing them the best.

I don’t know who said it, but I’ve always loved the quote: “There are only two things you can give your children. One is roots. The other is wings.” Letting go of our children may be the ultimate act of love we are asked to perform in this life. And, as in all of life, it is all about balance. Balance our desire as parents to keep them rooted, with our desire to see them soar to new heights all on their own. “Roots and wings, roots and wings,” maybe that could be new mantram as I watch them step to the edge and spread their wings...