I remember needing you.
I remember needing you when I fell off my bike.
I remember needing you when the sound of thunder filled the sky.
I remember needing you when I had a bad dream.
I remember needing you when I had those first-day-of-school jitters.
I remember needing you when I didn’t do as well on that test as I’d hoped.
I remember needing you when I was told I didn’t make the team.
I remember needing you when I had my heart broken.
I remember needing you when I was applying to college.
I remember needing you when I moved into my dorm.
But I thought that was where it would end. I figured once I became an “adult,” I wouldn’t need you anymore. And especially once I had children of my own, once I became a mother and you a grandma, that they would need me, I’d no longer need you, and that would be that. The circle of life.
Gosh, how wrong I was.
Because I needed you to scoop me up in your arms when I’d fallen off my bike, take my hand to combat those first-day-of-school jitters, and hold me as I sobbed over my freshly broken heart.
But now? Now that I’m a mom, raising my own children, trying my best to figure it all out?
Now, I need you more.
I need you to tell me if the fever is high enough to warrant concern.
I need you to tell me what you think that cry means.
I need you to tell me how you would’ve handled that tantrum.
I need you to tell me how to juggle it all.
I need you to tell me how to navigate all the grumpy attitudes and eye rolls and hormones.
I need you to tell me that it will all be OK.
I need you to tell me to cherish this season, because all too soon it will be gone.
I need you to tell me that you felt clueless, too, but you did it anyway.
Because motherhood is so much harder than I ever could’ve imagined. So much better, but so much harder.
And not everyone has the gift that I have. Not all moms have the ability to turn to their own mother as they journey through motherhood. So I want to recognize it as the gift that it is, cherishing each moment that I have you—your grace, your wisdom, your help.
And I know I’ll still get a little frustrated with you at times. I won’t always heed your advice, and there will be plenty of times that I’ll do things a bit differently than you would have.
But I finally get you. Why you did the things you did; why you were the way you were.
And needing you?
Now I understand that I will always need you. That I could do this without you—that I would figure it out, find other family and incredible friends to look to for support and advice—but I’m so incredibly grateful that I don’t have to.
Because I have you. And what a blessing it is.