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.

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

In: Motherhood
Moms with arms around each other watching baseball

Spending hours on end on a ballfield on Mother’s Day may not sound ideal to most, but the ones who get it know that it’s about so much more than watching young kids play ball. It’s about the instant bonds you make with families who end up becoming like your own family. It’s being surrounded by people who cheer for your kid louder than you do yourself. It’s about being lucky enough to have a pack of moms who will care for your child in your absence and send you pics and videos of what you are missing when you...

Keep Reading

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

In: Motherhood
Little boy sitting at table talking to adult

I thought the experts were going to fix my child. I didn’t say that out loud. But it was there…quiet, desperate, sitting underneath every question I asked. If I just found the right strategy… If I just understood ADHD well enough… If I just listened hard enough… Maybe the meltdowns would stop. Maybe the chaos would settle. Maybe I would finally feel like I knew what I was doing. So I started asking questions. Over the past year, I’ve had the opportunity to interview ADHD experts (clinicians, researchers, specialists) through my podcast. And I showed up to every conversation like...

Keep Reading

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

In: Motherhood
Child hugging mother

Some moments in motherhood stay with you. First steps. Preschool graduation. A first dance recital. And then there are harder times. The ones that do not make it into photo albums. The moments when the world feels too big and your child feels painfully misunderstood. When you are parenting a child with a disability, those moments tend to find you more often. This day should have felt like a win. My son had just met a goal in therapy. We walked out of his OT’s office smiling, carrying a page full of lopsided circles that had never looked more perfect...

Keep Reading

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

In: Motherhood
Mother holding baby looking sad

I don’t think people truly believe me when I say I came back from the depths of hell after having my son. Birth is often portrayed as pure bliss. The moment a mother holds her baby and instantly falls in love. Life quickly returns to normal. Even in real life, new moms can look like they’ve settled into motherhood with ease. But what no one talks about is the ugly, incredibly hard side of it. Not every mom experiences postpartum depression, anxiety, or OCD. For some, it really is bliss. But for many of us, it becomes a fight for...

Keep Reading

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

In: Motherhood
Little boy playing with toys on the floor alone

There is a moment nobody warns you about. Not the sleepless nights. Not the feeding schedules. Not the endless cycle of laundry and worry that comes with keeping a tiny human alive. Those parts everyone mentions. The part nobody mentions is the moment you realize your child has started becoming his own person. And you are standing there watching it happen, equal parts proud and completely unprepared. My son is two years old. And lately he has been leaving the room. Not in a concerning way. In a he has somewhere to be kind of way. He will be in...

Keep Reading

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

In: Motherhood
Smiling young woman

I remember the exact moment it hit me. I was talking to a young girl, the kind everyone praises. She was polite, well spoken, respectful. The kind of girl people point to and say, “She’s so confident.” So I asked her a question I knew would reveal more than her smile ever could: “What do you do when something doesn’t feel right?” She froze. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, almost invisible way. She looked down, shifted her weight, then looked back up at me, searching my face like the answer might be written there. Because she...

Keep Reading

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

In: Motherhood
Woman holding baby's head in hands

After the traumatic birth of my daughter, I searched for others who had experienced vasa previa, but most of what I found were support groups for stillbirth. It’s easy to understand why; vasa previa is one of the most preventable causes of stillbirth, and yet most people, including most pregnant women, have never heard of it. My daughter is almost three years old, and I still carry a complicated guilt about that: why did we get to be the lucky ones? I want to share my story—not to frighten you, but because awareness is the only thing that saves lives...

Keep Reading

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