Oh my heart… I feel this so so deeply Ellie. I wrote a price ages ago that was about Motherhood being a long series of goodbyes. It hurts so much! The transitions bring so much ache… I felt it so much this week as S came to the end of her first year in Reception. I feel it when she wants to read to me now and me not read to her as much… it’s daily reminders that we never get those versions of them back. A beautiful piece. Xxx
I know, it is so heartbreaking isn't it! I didn't have this grief in the first 3 years because it was so tough and I just wanted things to get better. But now it's starting to feel like time is speeding up and I can't believe my little boy is growing up so quickly... I bet the transition from reception to Year 1 is a really big one too xxx
Sigh, what a beautiful piece you've written Ellie. Thank you, I watched my 22 year old son drive off in a moving truck two weeks ago and just haven't been able to wrap my brain around the amount of loss and grief that I am feeling. It feels like yesterday that I waved goodbye to that crying little 5 year old boy as he walked backwards, blowing me kisses and slowly making his way to his new kindergarten classroom. It took everything in me to not run after him and grab him up for just one more day in our sweet little world together. Gosh I miss him so much, all of the versions of him. Thank you for making me feel seen. I'm just going to be over here crying for the rest of the day. <3
Oh Amanda your words made me cry! I can really see both of these versions of your son and sense the huge love and grief you must be feeling. Being a parent really does push us to our edges, in so many ways. So much love to you as you navigate this big shift in your life x
I am crying big old tears. When my son was born someone gave me a card with a poem on it, and the last line was something like he will only been a little boy for just a little while. Your words made me think of that. The everyday grief is hard and I see you.
And being the mom of a grown-up son is like being introduced to a new young friend who is faintly recognizable but someone who needs your acceptance that they are no longer dependent on you yet still need your friendship and guidance, but only solicited.
Ellie, this is so beautiful, well done. I strongly resonate with this piece and I am sure many other mothers will too. I love how you stay with 'what is', the ultimate practice of connecting with the self and our feelings rather than disguising or running away from them and realising it's the tonic we need, the therapist we need, the attention we needed and need. Our growth mindset changing our fixed mindset. Well done on the ongoing practice of presence, the writing of this beautiful article and sending that important message to River through example. I wish you many beautiful summer holiday moments before the next chapter starts in all your lives.
This, oh dear, this. Lovely is a word I am growing conscious of using here, and this too, is lovely. I wonder, as I type, if I use lovely here because that is, in fact, what substack is, many tellings and realizations of love. The love of the person cut down by suicide. The love of children, family, the love for the child that bear's the author's own name and need the love as the trauma began scarring. And even those who might not write about love, maybe they are struggling to express or to find it. But that is not at all what I meant to say. I am in love with this writing as I have come to the realization that life is bounding from one grief to the next, like dancing the Giant's Causeway. That each year our versions of our children die, and it is ok to mourn their passing even as we stare in wonderment at the new arrival. And this is important to remember of our partners (if we be so lucky) and even ourselves. If we have just survived, as Lizzie called it, an Annus Horribilis, we grief ourselves for having had to suffer, and we sit in wonderment that we survived, and the lucky of us are amazed at the possibilities before us. So, this piece is not about River, but THE River, of time, of life, and how each moment is unique, each ripple of water over rock our under air, is once in a universe, even as it often seems all the same. And this piece is not about River but you. And this piece is about your love for River, those reiterations that have come before and that you see unfurling now. And this piece is love, is that moment, that breath, that some would call mindfulness, I would call in the grace of living in hope.
Such beautiful words Ellie ❤️. I love that quote about how you parent so many different versions of your child, it's so true. Allowing those moments of grief to pop up and sink into them, mixed with gratitude as well that maybe that stage has gone but we've had all of those lovely memories together. My youngest starts half day nursery in Sept, after 3 years of being a SAHM with him, it'll be very strange and I think how is he old enough already? But also he's ready for the next stage too ❤️
So glad this piece resonated with you Jenna. I think this is the medicine, allowing the grief, and the love, to flow rather than try and change it or escape it or delay it.
Oh my heart… I feel this so so deeply Ellie. I wrote a price ages ago that was about Motherhood being a long series of goodbyes. It hurts so much! The transitions bring so much ache… I felt it so much this week as S came to the end of her first year in Reception. I feel it when she wants to read to me now and me not read to her as much… it’s daily reminders that we never get those versions of them back. A beautiful piece. Xxx
I know, it is so heartbreaking isn't it! I didn't have this grief in the first 3 years because it was so tough and I just wanted things to get better. But now it's starting to feel like time is speeding up and I can't believe my little boy is growing up so quickly... I bet the transition from reception to Year 1 is a really big one too xxx
Sigh, what a beautiful piece you've written Ellie. Thank you, I watched my 22 year old son drive off in a moving truck two weeks ago and just haven't been able to wrap my brain around the amount of loss and grief that I am feeling. It feels like yesterday that I waved goodbye to that crying little 5 year old boy as he walked backwards, blowing me kisses and slowly making his way to his new kindergarten classroom. It took everything in me to not run after him and grab him up for just one more day in our sweet little world together. Gosh I miss him so much, all of the versions of him. Thank you for making me feel seen. I'm just going to be over here crying for the rest of the day. <3
Oh Amanda your words made me cry! I can really see both of these versions of your son and sense the huge love and grief you must be feeling. Being a parent really does push us to our edges, in so many ways. So much love to you as you navigate this big shift in your life x
Thank you so much Ellie! Enjoy all of those sweet little moments, they go so fast! 😢💗
I am crying big old tears. When my son was born someone gave me a card with a poem on it, and the last line was something like he will only been a little boy for just a little while. Your words made me think of that. The everyday grief is hard and I see you.
Thank you so much for reading Emma, and for sharing this with me. Being a parent is so tough! x
And being the mom of a grown-up son is like being introduced to a new young friend who is faintly recognizable but someone who needs your acceptance that they are no longer dependent on you yet still need your friendship and guidance, but only solicited.
Gosh another new phase of the relationship to navigate, Wen. Thank you for sharing this, and for reading my piece x
I love your writing! Your words spoke to me on so many different levels! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you David. I really appreciate you reading and sharing this with me.
Ellie, this is so beautiful, well done. I strongly resonate with this piece and I am sure many other mothers will too. I love how you stay with 'what is', the ultimate practice of connecting with the self and our feelings rather than disguising or running away from them and realising it's the tonic we need, the therapist we need, the attention we needed and need. Our growth mindset changing our fixed mindset. Well done on the ongoing practice of presence, the writing of this beautiful article and sending that important message to River through example. I wish you many beautiful summer holiday moments before the next chapter starts in all your lives.
Ah thank you for reading and for sharing this with me Birgitte!x
As I now find myself crying, I'll just say thanks.
Thank you so much for reading x
This, oh dear, this. Lovely is a word I am growing conscious of using here, and this too, is lovely. I wonder, as I type, if I use lovely here because that is, in fact, what substack is, many tellings and realizations of love. The love of the person cut down by suicide. The love of children, family, the love for the child that bear's the author's own name and need the love as the trauma began scarring. And even those who might not write about love, maybe they are struggling to express or to find it. But that is not at all what I meant to say. I am in love with this writing as I have come to the realization that life is bounding from one grief to the next, like dancing the Giant's Causeway. That each year our versions of our children die, and it is ok to mourn their passing even as we stare in wonderment at the new arrival. And this is important to remember of our partners (if we be so lucky) and even ourselves. If we have just survived, as Lizzie called it, an Annus Horribilis, we grief ourselves for having had to suffer, and we sit in wonderment that we survived, and the lucky of us are amazed at the possibilities before us. So, this piece is not about River, but THE River, of time, of life, and how each moment is unique, each ripple of water over rock our under air, is once in a universe, even as it often seems all the same. And this piece is not about River but you. And this piece is about your love for River, those reiterations that have come before and that you see unfurling now. And this piece is love, is that moment, that breath, that some would call mindfulness, I would call in the grace of living in hope.
Chris these are such beautiful and profound words. Thank you.
Such beautiful words Ellie ❤️. I love that quote about how you parent so many different versions of your child, it's so true. Allowing those moments of grief to pop up and sink into them, mixed with gratitude as well that maybe that stage has gone but we've had all of those lovely memories together. My youngest starts half day nursery in Sept, after 3 years of being a SAHM with him, it'll be very strange and I think how is he old enough already? But also he's ready for the next stage too ❤️
So glad this piece resonated with you Jenna. I think this is the medicine, allowing the grief, and the love, to flow rather than try and change it or escape it or delay it.
Absolutely, giving yourself permission to feel it all ❤️