Slipping Through My Fingers

Today, the landscape feels very different.

Not just the physical changes presented when she left home but the emotional relationship shifted. The vocabulary changed: shorter, brisker, sometimes tinged with a coolness I don’t recognise. I can sense the eye-roll even if I don’t see it. And while I know I’ve done my job. I’ve raised a confident, capable, independent woman. Watching her fly the nest with confidence and independence. Is that not what we’re supposed to be proud of as she lives her best life; the detachment I can’t deny has been complicated at times to accept.

And then there are moments when pride gets tangled with a little ache. A pang of disconnection I didn’t see coming.

I think many mothers of daughters might know this feeling.

The Beauty of Youth and Wisdom

It often occurs at a time when we are going through a transformation of our own. Any woman with a daughter will observe the most profound changes that can occur all too often while they struggle with ageing. At a time, all too often when they are in a phase of seeking to establish their own identity separate from their families.  We are feeling like we are losing  beauty and youth just at a time when our daughters are stepping into their own; radiating the vibrancy of their young adulthood; radiant, full of purpose, in full bloom receiving the kind of attention and admiration we once enjoyed.  That juxtaposition can catch you off guard. You can start to feel invisible just as they become luminous. This natural development can sometimes be interpreted by us as a rejection, exacerbating the emotional strain of our own ageing.

And it’s not just about looks. We’re navigating hormone swings while they’re figuring out who they want to be.  And sometimes it feels like they’re doing it at our expense. Suddenly, topics we used to agree on become battlegrounds. Things I once thought of as charming, like the odd flirtatious compliment in the street, she finds offensive. I get it, but I also remember how a catcall, however wrong, once used to put a spring in my step!

Now, conversations can feel like tightropes. Sometimes nervous to say the wrong thing. Some days we’re in sync, laughing about the same thing, and other days I wonder if we’re even speaking the same language.

But this is a phase. An important one. And it’s not all bad.

There’s a strange beauty in this time of adjustment. This shift presents a unique opportunity for growth and deeper understanding; embracing new perspectives on how one sees the world is intriguing and enjoying the robust conversations as she questions perhaps my preconceived ideals.

She’s learning to see me not just as her mum, but as a woman with her own beliefs and experiences. And I’m trying to see her not as the little girl who needed me constantly, but as a young adult with her own evolving truth. Sometimes that truth clashes with mine. Then there are times,  I admit, I don’t want to understand.

It’s hard when your daughter challenges the very values you thought you’d passed on. Is it nature or nurture? Has her upbringing, albeit closely aligned with yours all these years, developed into a set of values contrary to yours? You ask yourself: Did I really raise someone so different from me, or did I raise someone strong enough to think for herself?

The answer, of course, is both. And in that tension lies the magic.

Some days I feel left behind, on the outside looking in. But more often, I see a woman I deeply admire.

Over the past twenty years, I’ve seen this child blossom into a young woman of poise and beauty.  I’m amazed by her ability to understand situations that I once had to guide her through; she now commands the room with pragmatic confidence.  Her confidence is thrilling. Her independence is astonishing. And yet, there’s a quiet grief too. Perhaps this feeling of being ever so slightly redundant in her world bit by bit contributes to my feeling that she is slipping through my fingers.

Relationships

Then come the relationships. Romantic ones. Watching her fall in love, or just fall into deep affection, adds another layer of change. Suddenly, someone else is the first phone call, the weekend plan, the confidant. Of course, it’s healthy. Of course, I want that for her. But it still stings sometimes. Especially when she dismisses your concern with a roll of the eyes or a tight-lipped “I know what I’m doing.” Try gently raising a red flag about someone she’s dating, and it’s like stepping into a minefield. One wrong word and the whole thing explodes.

So we learn to tread carefully. We keep the invitations coming; meeting for a coffee, shopping, a walk, a film we used to watch together. Sometimes they say yes, and sometimes they don’t. But when they do, those old moments resurface. Singing Disney songs at the top of our voices in the car. Watching Bridesmaids for the umpteenth time. Laughing until we cry.

Those are the moments we live for. The moment they walk down the stairs looking so beautiful, it takes your breath away.  Then there are the accomplishments and any small achievements that remind us what a truly special human being you have created and nurtured. The ones that remind us of this bond, complicated and evolving as it is, are still there.

Strong. Fierce. Sacred.

Because, despite the misunderstandings, the unkind words, the silences, we still know our daughters better than anyone. And they, perhaps more than anyone else, know us. This is the most beautiful and maddening relationship we’ll ever have. It will break our hearts, and it will piece them back together.

But mostly, it will teach us that love doesn’t stand still. It changes shape. It tests us. And if we’re lucky, it grows deeper in the process.