5/24 - Motherhood, Loss, & Letting Go
Motherhood, Loss, & Letting Go:
The Quiet Grief No One Talks About
Motherhood is often described as a season of gaining.
You gain a child. You gain a new identity.
As your child grows, you gain first words, first steps, bedtime routines, inside jokes, sticky hands reaching for yours, and moments that somehow feel both ordinary and sacred.
But hidden beneath the beauty of motherhood is something we do not talk about nearly enough:
Motherhood is a journey of continual letting go.
And every act of letting go carries its own form of loss.
Losses can range from the simple things, such as not having to help your children get dressed anymore, or them not wanting a bedtime story or a snuggle with you to much bigger things such as when your sons start dating and you are no longer the most important woman in their lives. Or when your children start driving and you no longer need to cart them around. It's a loss of dependence that we celebrate and grieve all at the same time.
Some losses arrive suddenly and leave obvious wounds. Others are quieter. More subtle. They are the losses that happen while life is still moving forward and everyone around you is celebrating milestones.
You carry your child into kindergarten and smile for pictures, while something inside of you whispers, They're growing up.
You notice that they stop climbing into your lap.
You realize they no longer ask you to tuck them in.
You watch your child walk into middle school and realize they no longer need your hand crossing the parking lot. I'll never forget when my husband and I took my oldest son to his Junior High Walk Thru Registration. By the looks of me, you would have thought something terrible had just happened. We got out of the car and started walking to the Junior High Courtyard and I had to stop, so I could regain my composure. Tears were coming down my face. I was happy and proud, while at the same time, I knew this was one of a number of upcoming steps that would lead to my son's eventual independence. It is a joyous loss, but as a mother, heartbreaking at the same time. I mean, we always want to keep them young and next to us.
One day they run toward independence while your heart lingers somewhere behind them.
Motherhood often asks us to celebrate while simultaneously grieving.
And that can feel confusing.
Because grief is usually associated with death, tragedy, or endings. We don't usually associate grief with positive milestones.
But grief isn't limited to losing people.
Grief also appears when we lose seasons.
When identities shift. When roles change.
When life moves forward and we weren't quite ready for it. When we lose what was.
Many mothers quietly carry grief and never call it grief. Many don't even know to call it grief.
Instead they say:
"I don't know why I'm emotional."
"I should be happy."
"I feel guilty for feeling sad."
"Something just feels different."
But perhaps what they're experiencing is not weakness. Society teaches us to think of emotionality as weakness, like we are unable to handle what is happening to or around us. But what if these emotions of motherhood aren't weakness.
Perhaps it's grieving.
Because motherhood is a series of tiny, microscopic goodbyes, over a period of 18+ years.
Goodbye to rocking them to sleep.
Goodbye to first days of school.
Goodbye to little shoes.
Goodbye to childhood traditions.
Goodbye to being needed in the same way.
Goodbye to the version of yourself that existed in another season.
And if we're honest, some of the losses surrounding motherhood go deeper.
For some, motherhood includes miscarriage or infertility. These type of losses are unfathomable, yet mother's are expected to manage them with complete grace and composure.
For some, motherhood includes estranged relationships. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding or an unintentional hurt and their adult child has pulled away. This is an entirely different type of unexplainable pain, torture, and ongoing confusion and maybe even guilt.
For others, motherhood involves a child moving away. And maybe they aren't close anymore. And contact gets less and less frequent. And suddenly that little life you carried inside of you becomes a distant memory.
For many, motherhood includes watching your children struggle. We know this is how our children grow. How they learn to be adults. As a mother, it's hard to watch, but we know it's for the best. And yet, it still carries a bit of grief.
For most, motherhood eventually leads to becoming an empty nester. For some mothers, this is a time of celebration, where they can now reclaim their own identity, revive their marriage, or simply embrace this new stage of life, knowing they successfully launched their children. For others, this transition is extremely difficult and hurts more than one can imagine. It is hard for some mothers to adapt to their identity no longer revolving around being someone's mother. They have forgotten who they are on their own. This creates a multi-layered season of grief.
As we grow older, motherhood shifts to watching your own mother age. So while you are no longer the caregiver for your children, you now become the caregiver for your aging mother. You grieve the loss of you mother as you knew and remember her at the same time you grieve with and for her, her own loss of self, of independence, and her slow decline of memory of who she is and who you are.
Watching roles reverse. Watching yourself become the caretaker instead of the one being cared for.
Sometimes motherhood is holding joy and heartbreak in the same hand. Often motherhood is holding joy and heartbreak in the same hand. Motherhood is a complicated role and emotion.
The difficult truth is that love and loss often walk together. The deeper we love, the more vulnerable we become to grief.
But there is also something beautiful hidden within all of this letting go. Because letting go isn't the same thing as losing love.
We sometimes fear that if we release a season, release control, or release who our children once were, somehow we are losing them.
But love does not disappear because things change.
Love simply changes shape.
The rocking chair of their childhood becomes a late-night conversation on the edge of their bed.
The bedtime stories become phone calls or Facetimecalls.
The little hand that once reached for yours becomes an adult child seeking your advice. They still need you, but not in the same way they once did.
The relationship evolves.
And so do we.
Letting go is not surrendering love. It is allowing love to grow.
There is also a deeper invitation within motherhood that many of us wrestle with.
The invitation to loosen our grip and trust God with what we cannot hold onto forever.
As mothers, we often want to protect, control, fix, and carry. Forever.
We want guarantees. We want certainty. We want our children safe, even well into their adulthood.
But eventually we discover something difficult:
We were never meant to be our children's savior.
We were meant to point them toward the Savior.
There comes a moment where motherhood becomes an open-handed act of faith.
A whisper that says: "God, I love them deeply, but I trust You with what I cannot control." I remember whispering something similar to God, acknowledging my undying love for my children, but recognizing, at that time, He could parent them much better than I can. So I handed over control of my children to God. And yes, I know He had control all along, but things changed when I released my perceived control and relinquished it to God.
That prayer is not easy. It broke my heart. And if I'm honest, sometimes it still breaks my heart.
But perhaps it is one of the bravest prayers a mother can pray. Because motherhood was never about holding on forever. It was always about loving deeply while learning to release gently. It was about teaching them all you could, and trusting God for the rest.
And maybe that's the hidden sacredness of motherhood.
Not that we avoid loss. Not that we avoid letting go.
But that we continue loving through every transition. Through every goodbye. Through every change.
Through every season. Because even when motherhood changes, love remains.
And perhaps that is what our hearts were trying to tell us all along.
We were never losing the story. We were simply turning the page.
If I being honest again, I sometimes envy the seeming detachment that men have, because they were created differently than women. But I also cherish that God saw fit to bless me as a mother, through all the ups and downs.
You can also check out the Married & Confused Podcast episode that tackles this topic, as well. Click on the link below and look for Episode #62.
If you'd like to see any of my previous blog posts, please click here or visit the Blog tab on my website.
If you're interested in couples or individual counseling, please visit my website and schedule a free 15 minute consultation - www.mustardseedchristiancounseling.com.
I provide online individual and couples counseling throughout California, Tennessee, South Carolina, and Florida.
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