The Grief of Letting Go

This post is a very personal one for me and explores the grief of letting go as we watch our children grow. Feelings of loss do not always relate to bereavement. This is not about grief in the traditional sense. It’s about the many small losses we can experience as we watch our children change and grow. It’s about saying goodbye, little by little, to the different stages of their childhood, and adjusting to the changing relationship as they become more independent.

Watching my own children grow into adults has brought pride and joy of course but also, an underlying ache for the little people who needed me in a very different way.

I remember the babies I would feed in the middle of the night. Their sleepy faces, little fists wrapped tightly around my finger as I held them close. The rest of the house would be sleeping and it felt like time stood still. But time doesn’t wait for us to be ready. It rushes forwards, and our children grow at a rate that I still can’t quite comprehend.

When I look back now, I can see just how quickly those years passed. There were the toddler years, filled with cuddles and love and seemingly endless hours spent playing together. Then came the pre-school years, when they would take such pride in showing me their latest drawing or Lego invention. At the time, I was simply living through each stage.

As the milestones became bigger, I really started to connect with those feelings of grief. I remember the last day at preschool, with the special ‘graduation ceremony’ put on by the staff, and the lump in my throat as we took one last look at the lovely, nurturing space my children had enjoyed. A place where they had spent their days climbing trees and playing with their special friends.

I felt it again on my daughter’s last day at primary school. I was very emotional. She had such a special bond with her teacher, and I knew that secondary school would feel very different for her. I wasn't sure what to do with my feelings at this time. After all, these are occasions that are meant to be celebrated. They are momentous moments in a child’s life. But for parents they can also be an ending. The ending of one chapter and the beginning of another. Parenting is full of endings.

I remember how my daughter used to love having us read to her. We’d climb up to the top of her high sleeper and squeeze into the small space – my nose almost touching the ceiling. I can't remember the last story I read to her. I wish I could. I don't remember which book it was or what the story was about. I just know that one day, without either of us knowing, that ended. It just became another ordinary moment in an ordinary day.

That's the part nobody tells you. There is no little moment where someone whispers, “Remember this, because it won't happen again.” You just don't know when you are doing something for the last time.

I miss all those different versions of my children. The newborn, the toddler, the school child and everything in between. But I also feel so thankful and happy. This is the complicated part of parenting that we don't always talk about. It can be hard to know what to do with these conflicting feelings, but I have come to realise that they are all valid.

I've come to accept that parenthood is a series of slow and beautiful goodbyes, as we say goodbye to one version of our child and hello to another. I celebrate every milestone because each one shows me that they are becoming more confident, more capable and more independent. I feel proud when they learn something new, achieve something they have worked hard for or take another step towards building a life of their own.

But I also allow myself the space to feel the loss. We can spend so much time helping our children move forward that we rarely stop to notice what we are leaving behind.

Every version of our child is loved. The heartbreaking thing is that we only get to meet each version for a little while.