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.

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

In: Motherhood
Mother and child silhouette

For most of my life, I believed becoming a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a choice, it was the ultimate goal. The kind of life a “good” woman was meant to want. The kind of life that meant you were doing things right. I grew up surrounded by that message. In conservative spaces, in church circles, in subtle conversations about what a “real” mother looked like. Women who stayed home were praised. Women who didn’t were quietly questioned. I learned, without ever being directly told, that a mother’s highest purpose was to center her entire world around her children and her...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

In: Motherhood, Teen
Teenager on phone

I was not prepared to be a mother of teenagers. Sure, I was warned by other parents about the difficult journey I was about to embark on, but I did not expect it to be this challenging. I remember these two sweet, innocent children who wanted to be with me all the time. Now they barely give me the time of day. How did we get here? Like many parents, we long to have that child who once, a long time ago, called us Mommy and Daddy and begged us to read them another story. Where are those kids I...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman standing over water

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise.  From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

To the Mom Worrying She’s Not Doing Enough This Summer

In: Motherhood
Kids looking at lake in summer

It’s only the second week of summer, and, thanks to modern-day social media, I feel like I’ve already seen it all. Picture-perfect beach getaways, color-coded bucket lists, backyard neighborhood movie nights, you name it. And if I’m being honest, I’ve already caught myself wondering if I’m doing enough. More than once, at that. As a solo mom of two, I’m still adjusting to our new norm while trying desperately to delicately let go of any expectations tied to all of our past experiences…including summer vacations. I’m reminding myself that our summers won’t look like they used to. At least not...

Keep Reading

Your Worth As a Mother Is Not Defined By How You Feed Your Baby

In: Baby, Motherhood
Mother and baby stand by crib

I’m not breastfeeding my baby. I wanted to. And I was able to for the first several weeks of her life. But as the days went on, I could tell it wasn’t enough for her anymore, so we started supplementing. And sure enough, without warning, she began screaming through nursing sessions, but was satisfied with a bottle. And that’s when I knew what I needed to do. A similar situation also happened with my first. She didn’t gain her birth weight back on my milk alone, so I had no choice but to supplement right away. And before I knew...

Keep Reading

A Mother’s Love Doesn’t End When Her Kids Move Out

In: Motherhood
Family posing in Time Square

When my last sibling moved out of the house, I watched my mom struggle in a quiet, almost unspoken way. It wasn’t something dramatic or visible; it was something I could feel in her presence. For 40 years, her life had revolved around taking care of us—my siblings and me. Every season of her life had been shaped around our needs, our schedules, our milestones, and our growing up. Being a mom wasn’t just something she did. It was who she was—the structure of her days, the cadence of her thoughts, and the center of her purpose. So when the...

Keep Reading

The Hardest Part of Divorce Is Being Away from My Kids

In: Living, Marriage, Motherhood
Woman in driver's seat

I’ve written several times about how divorce has allowed me to find myself again, and how that version is even better than the one I was before I was married. All of that is still true. I am happier than I’ve ever been. More confident and sure of myself. I understand my emotions and how to handle myself when things get tough or scary. I am more grounded and calm than I’ve ever been. Truly, I have come out on top. I’ve received comments about how happy I look, how I’m “living my best life with kids only half the...

Keep Reading

I May Let Go of the Baby Things, but I’ll Hold the Memories Forever

In: Baby, Motherhood
Woman looking through closet of baby items

It’s easy to think of multiple sayings and mottos about how invaluable earthly possessions are. “It’s not what you have, but who you share it with” “Worry less about things and more about experiences” “Who cares what you have, you can’t take it with you when you go” And trust me, I know these to be true. I am not a hoarder of hotel pens or mini shampoo bottles or every receipt and coaster from my favorite restaurants. I don’t care much for name-brand shoes or designer purses, yet there are a few things I just can’t easily let go...

Keep Reading

Mom Showed Us Love that Lasts

In: Motherhood
Vintage photo of mother and three young kids

We moved a few years ago, and we had a closet that needed some reworking. In doing so, my husband found some old photos. He pulled out an album that held this vintage photo of my mom, my sisters, and me. It was probably circa 1983 when prints were made from Kodak. I actually don’t remember seeing the photo before. But I love it. In the photo, my mother’s eyes are shut with a blink because those were the days when blinks weren’t edited. It’s beautiful, and I can’t stop thinking about the captured connection. She was showing us something...

Keep Reading

This Is How I’m Raising My Sensitive Son

In: Motherhood
Little boy hugs a cat

When I was pregnant with my son, everyone warned me of what was to come. “Just you wait,” they’d say with an underlying schadenfreude, “you’ll never sleep again.” I fully expected sleep-deprived days and long, unrelenting nights, calming my son down from tantrums, trying to keep the peace with my marriage. But I got lucky—my son sleeps through the night, doesn’t throw tantrums, and my marriage is stronger than ever. I didn’t expect that, especially because I struggle with my own mental health and assumed I’d be in the weeds during my postpartum period. Now that my son is almost...

Keep Reading