My baby boy left home, and is off pursuing adulthood in his way. After all these years – I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t affected me, a lot. For the first month (before I knew it would be permanent) it was weird and I didn’t want to be at home when he wasn’t there. When he said he’d be there for a few weeks, I settled in for a few carefree weeks – and that was nice.
Then he lowered the boom and told me he was moving in…I cried. It took everything I had to tell him I supported his decision and that I was proud of him for moving on in this way. ALL I HAD. It’s my job to take that backseat now, to encourage his independence, his decisions, etc. Even if I don’t agree with them – it’s not up to me now. I’ve had many days where I’ve been on the verge of tears all day because I miss him. I miss his hello when I would get home, I miss his sweet smile when he’s tickled about something, I miss his jokes, everything.
That’s natural I’m sure. I’ll take a little credit because he moved in with his father, and his father and I haven’t spoken in over a decade. But I was not the mom to talk trash to my son about his father, I have a heart and I couldn’t hurt my boy like that. So he’s exploring a relationship with a different part of his family he hasn’t had in his life, and though I know I’m being blamed for that – I don’t really care….most of the time.
What hurts me the most is that I don’t hear from him. My birthday came and went – without a comment from him. Mothers’ Day I don’t really care about and he’s always known that so I’m not real hurt that he didn’t reach out that day either. It’s the not reaching out at all that gets to me. I can make excuses for him easily enough, but being an adult means you have to balance your relationships with people. I’ve told him this and I think eventually he will…but until then.. Ouch.