I became a mother at the ripe old age of 29. I noticed immediately that my energy level couldn't begin to match that of younger mothers yet I was grateful that I'd had some adult years to play and explore life without the responsibility of a child. The timing seemed right. My (then) husband worked the graveyard shift for years so it was a pass-the-kid back and forth affair much of the time.

One of the first lessons I learned about parenthood is that a mother's love for her child is fierce and leaves the heart wide open to all sorts of excruciating pain. To love unconditionally like that is an invitation to have your soul trampled on when the going gets tough.

There have been plenty of those tough times, but they've mostly been outweighed by the good ones and the joy of watching a life unfold that is a distinct mixture of two parents who couldn't be more different. When the marriage ended the separate relationships between that child and each parent continued in the spirit that we intended.

Becoming an adult is a scary thing for anybody...I remember it well. It still scares me to think that I am responsible for ME. Navigation of the passage from know it all teenager to I don't have a clue young adult is tricky business. The longed for adulthood that seemed so far away suddenly catches up to you and BAM...you realize that life is what you make it and not what Mommy and Daddy want you to be. It's a gift and a curse all at once.

I will spare the details and leave this post as a confession that no matter how old they get your baby is still your baby and can leave your heart feeling like it's been punched full of holes and left to die. And that, my friends, is when the wisest thing of all is to let go. In love. ^j^