As I Let My Babies Go, My Heart Remembers It All

I sat on the back pew of the church Sunday. From there, I could see everything except the preacher. Around the time of tithes and offerings, I noticed a young mother soothing her 3-month-old son. What I noticed wasn’t her ponytail or her calculatedly black clothes; I noticed the mama sway. Back and forth, she swept him, soothing and entertaining, pacifying both the baby and her motherly instinct. It probably even went unnoticed by the patrons around her, but I remembered; I remembered the mama sway.

I looked to my right and saw my daughter. I am starting to lose the memory of her pudgy dimpled cheeks; she is so poised and adult these days. On my left sat my son, who went from 4’11” and round to 5’8” and muscular overnight. They don’t need me to rock them anymore. I thought about my daughter, knee-deep in college applications: “far away but not out of state” was the limitation she provided. My son has started telling me “Don’t make it weird” when I ask about the girl he likes.

History tells us change is difficult; common sense tells us growth is better than any alternative. But as I watch my babies grow, I watch myself letting go of them. The mama sway turns to a hug that releases too quickly. And then the hugs grow fewer, farther between. I catch myself picking up the cat just to find a baby who will let me rock her, if only for a minute. My daughter is walking away from me, from the security, from any tangible way I can soothe her. Along the way, though, she has learned to soothe herself and to pump her own gas, to buy and wash her own clothes, to make her own rational decisions. My son is coming into his own as well, and he is perfectly capable of making his own choices too.

So I release my grasp, and against my will, I let my babies go. My mama reminded me that I am still in her life, and that now, I am much easier to manage. I do still need her and crave her influence in my life. As I watch the new young mothers sway to the tune of the lullaby they hum, grasping the new lives they created, I envy them in so many ways. I miss that mama sway, but I certainly look forward to all the other ways I can move in support of my children.

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Articles by Melissa Jernigan

Melissa Jernigan

Melissa Jernigan is a school counselor in Georgia. She enjoys writing poetry and laughing until she cries. If you meet her husband, tell him she needs at least two more cats.