Yesterday my first born, my only son, turned seventeen. S E V E N T E E N ! I was 17 when I graduated from high school. I was 17 when I started college. How is it possible that I could possibly have my own child this same age?
A few nights ago, we talked about when his high school graduation is in order to plan his graduation party around out of town guests. I’m still in shock this is even a real conversation on the near horizon.
As more of these upcoming events are my reality, I find myself thinking about his early years when instead of dragging him out of bed like I have to now, I had to bribe him to stay in his bed beyond 6 am.
I used to have to say to him, “Can you please give me just 5 minutes without talking?” so I could finish whatever it was I was working on. Now I have to say, “Can you please just come out here and talk for 5 minutes?”
Given that the age range for all of our kids is from 3 to 17, I have had plenty of time to reflect in which ways I have parented differently between my oldest and youngest… what I wish I knew, what I would have changed and done differently all those years ago the first time.
I try to live my life not having regrets –especially with leaving things unsaid or undone with people. I’m definitely not perfect, but for the most part, I have been able to live authentically with that. So my wishes for what I could have done differently aren’t regret, but rather a wisdom I have been able to carry along in my motherhood journey with my other children.
I wish I had been more relaxed about nursing when he was first born. There were many days I spent sobbing on the way home from the pediatrician for weight checks in the first few weeks and would beat myself up for not being able to feed my baby “the right way,” where he was gaining enough. I remember legitimately thinking, “I’m going to starve my baby because he’s not gaining.” Turns out, he had a tongue tie. At 3 weeks old, it was clipped, he nursed better and gained weight.
I wish I had written everything down. You really think you’ll remember, but it is just not possible. Of course, I have things like the “firsts” written down. But so many of those cute things he said, I wish I had written them all. I keep hoping they’re locked up in my brain somewhere and I’ll just remember one day. The day we met, his birth day, is so very vivid in my memory. I blinked and it’s seventeen years later.
I wish I had videoed more. I took a ton of photographs, for sure. It wasn’t unlike me to head into Costco with 13 rolls of film and get triple prints developed. But, the movement, the sound of his voice, the way he walked, or tucked his sippy cup under his arm when he was running…I wish I had more of. Now when I hear his voice, I wonder who this man’s voice is and those sweet sounds of the first voice to ever call me ‘mama’ are a faint memory.
I wish I had slowed down and embraced even more of the present when he was younger.
I wish I had known just how quickly it would go by.
He’s planning for his future. A future of his own.
That is absolutely the way it is supposed to be. Now I find myself simply wishing we had more time together before our journey’s path takes a new turn.
I am choosing to make the most of our present. I take those 5 minutes of talking whenever he’s willing to share.
I am so grateful that I have been given the gift of being his mom. Happy 17th birthday, my favorite son! 
