To The Mama... [A Love Letter As School Begins]

To the mama with the crying kid. The one with tears streaming down his face, holding you with all his might and begging you not to leave him at school. The one with screams rising in his throat and you turn to leave, calling your name over and over again through his tears. The one who is being coaxed into the room by his teacher, carried even, as his tear-filled voice fills the hallways.

I see you.  I support you.

To the mamma with the with a cling-on that won't let go. The one that furrows her brow while having a death grip on your hand, and begs you not to leave her. The one with the sweaty palms, currently wrapped around your leg, saying she won't go into the classroom without you. The one who started telling you she wasn't going to go back to school way back in July when summer break began.

I see you.  I support you.

To the mama with the new child. The one who looks around and doesn't see a single familiar face, and swallows hard with fear. The one who has no one running up, after months of not seeing them,  breathlessly recounting their summer of fun. The one who looks at his shoes, scuffing them back and forth, maybe even leaning up against you for a bit of moral support.

I see you.  I support you.

To the mama with the excited little one who is just bursting at the seams to get back to school. The one who is first in line, excitedly waiting for her friends to arrive. The one who skips and bounces into the playground happy as can be, without a care in the world. The who doesn't look back, even when you call her name, even when you beg her for a hug goodbye.

I see you.  I support you.

To the mama with the one who has become too cool for school. The one who doesn't want you to walk her there on the first day. The one who would rather die than admit you are his parent. The one who has all but stopped the hugs, kisses & 'I love you', even when you're alone at home. 

I see you.  I support you.

To the mama who turns her own head and wipes away her own tears. The one who swallows hard, letting her child go and turns her back despite her child's tears and pleas. The one who still sees her growing child as the baby they were not that long ago, relying on their mama for their every need. The one who wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around that baby, holding her close, telling him that everything will be absolutely fine. The one that takes a deep steadying breath and closes her eyes in a silent prayer, simply hoping and praying that things will go well. The one that races to her car to cry and simply release it all.

I see you.  I support you.

Know, mama, you are not alone. Know that I see and understand that tears that well up in your eyes as your child turns away. Know that I see and understand that pain in your heart, that longing to be with your child, the desire to scoop them up and just run home with them. Know that I see and understand the fear of letting go, of allowing your child to begin the journey of finding their own wings and learning to fly in this world. Know that I see and understand your heart - your mother's heart - and hold you closely in my own silent prayers. 

You are not alone.

Know, mama of that child, that you are not alone. Letting go is hard. Sending this baby that you have poured yourself into out to the world is so hard, no matter how capable the hands you pass them into. Know that they will gladly [at times] still need to hold your hand and steal your heart. Know that they will [yes, it's the truth] stop the tears & the fears eventually, and learn to hold their head high. 

You are not alone.

Take solace in the knowledge that you are not alone, dear mama. Take solace in knowing that you have joined a sisterhood of moms who understand that letting your baby go [no matter their age] is harder than you ever could have imagined.

You are not alone.

Hold your baby [even if they squirm] a little tighter when they get home. Listen to their stories - even if they involve tears - about their first days back at school. Kiss their forehead and tell them that it will be the best year, that they will be the happiest they have ever been, that their success will be greater than it has ever been before.  

And hold back your own tears, mama, until they've rested their head for the night. You've done a great job, you've prepared them as best you can, and it really truly be a wonderful experience for them. 

Know that they know you are by their side, you are their biggest cheerleader, you are their constant rock, a solid foundation of support. 

And pat yourself on the back mama, for a job well done. You got them here. You have raised them well. You have shown them love and compassion. They will be ok. You will be ok.

Take a deep breath and exhale it loudly.

We are all in this together.