A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I’ve truly enjoyed raising my kids. Sure, it’s been exhausting—the laundry, the cooking meals, the shuttling to all the activities—but mostly, it’s been a joy.

When my kids were little, it was easy to control their behavior. I put the television on the channels that I thought were best, made their meals, and purchased the clothes I wanted them to wear. I decided the playdates we would have and punished them for behavior I didn’t like. We thrived in our routine, and I may have even been a little bit smug in how smooth parenting was going for our little family.

I’d try to give them choices. “Do you want to wear the blue or pink shirt today?” Or, “Carrots or string beans tonight?” But, let’s be honest: I was the puppet master behind every scene.

Then it happened. It was slow at first—an eye roll here or a sarcastic comment there. It was when one pulled away from a hug in front of her friends or another started retreating to her room a bit more.

And little pieces of my heart began to break, bit by bit.

As my kids continue to grow older, their choices now become their own—and it is so hard when they don’t align with how you feel you have raised them. Worse, sometimes you wish you could do things differently.

Now, here I sit with three kids in the early stages of the teen years, and I wonder how we will get through it. We fight for control and gingerly pass trust back and forth like a carton of eggs. 

And when that trust is broken, when they push me away, when one of those eggs splatters on the ground, my heart breaks a little bit more.

I know kids make mistakes. I know children will disappoint. I know it is all about the process of growing up and letting go.

But knowing this still doesn’t prepare you for the surge of emotions you feel when it happens to you.

I wonder, Where did I go wrong? Or, I thought we had a better relationship than this. 

But mostly I think, Wow, I am really screwing this up.

So as I look at the pieces of my shattered heart scattered all around me, I want to pull away to protect myself, to protect my heart that has given so much to these three little souls. It’s tempting to walk away, to throw my hands up in the air and give up.

But instead, I choose to lean in, I choose to move toward the pain and the betrayals of trust and the mistakes. I choose to relinquish control of how their choices reflect on me. 

And instead of speaking my emotions, I choose words from my broken heart: “No matter what you do, dear child of mine, no matter the mistakes you make, there is nothing you can do to make me love you any less.”

Because I have to believe that with every action, with every mean-spirited word, with every effort my teens use to push me away, they want me—they need me—to be there for them, no matter what.

While I still may feel angry or disappointed or frustrated, I find other people to share those feelings with, so eventually, I can give my teens the love they need—and the consequences to know they must be accountable in this life.

And we keep talking and trying to navigate this growing up thing together—and in those moments, my heart starts to piece itself back together again, if only just a little bit.

Letting go of your kids is not just them physically moving away from you. Sometimes it’s letting go of expectations or aspirations or even dreams. It’s letting go of the control of their choices. It’s letting go of your heart while trying to hold onto your values.

And when I let go, I hope an even more beautiful life will come to fruition for my kids than what I could have ever imagined. 

I wish I could say this rough road for my kids and me is almost over, but in truth, I know it’s just the beginning. I’m trying to develop a thick skin while keeping a tender heart.

Because my teens may keep breaking my heart, but I know it’s big enough to carry us all through to the end of this journey.

You may also like:

Dear Daughter As You Move On To Middle School

To the Tired Mom in the Middle of the Night

The Kids May Be Grown, But Mom Is Still Their Home

Want more stories of love, family, and faith from the heart of every home, delivered straight to you? Sign up here! 

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Whitney Fleming

Whitney is a mom of three teen daughters, a freelance writer, and co-partner of the site parentingteensandtweens.com You can find her on Facebook at WhitneyFlemingWrites.

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

If You Give a Mom a Bouquet…

In: Motherhood
Woman arranging bouquet of pink flowers on table

If you give a mom a bouquet… She goes to grab a vase to put it in. As she grabs the vase, she also grabs the duster because she knows the spot for the vase is probably dusty and she has guests coming for dinner. As she begins dusting, she notices the stack of books that needs to go back on the shelf. When she gets to the shelf, she sees the bendy action figures in battle formation that need to go back in the bin. When she gets to the bin, she spots the toy food that needs to...

Keep Reading

Here In the Liminal Space of Parenting

In: Motherhood
Woman in tunnel

It’s Friday night at 8:00. The intermittent snoring of an 80-pound lap dog is the only thing slicing through the silence of my home. It feels empty, and there is a stillness in the air. I have nowhere to be; there is nobody waiting to be picked up. I’m staring at the empty takeout boxes from dinner sitting on the coffee table. There was no need to cook a big meal; it was just the two of us, my husband and me, sitting together wistfully in this liminal space of parenting. It is the quiet place between an empty nest...

Keep Reading

Mothers Are the Givers

In: Motherhood
Mom embracing young daughter

As we were decorating the tree last Christmas, my son dug to the bottom of a box and pulled out a Snoopy ornament. He set it off to the side quickly and continued his rifling. But I noticed the faint crack along the red jukebox that Snoopy stood beside. In an instant, I was standing back in the kitchen of our first home watching my son wander in to ask, in the cutest toddler voice, if he could “pwess” the button on the ornament to play the music. With gleeful excitement, he pressed too hard. The ornament slipped from his...

Keep Reading