The alarm on my phone began to nag, but I'd been staring in the dark for hours - trying to determine the feelings I had inside. Almost like the morning of a flight or a surgery. Two things I hate the most.
Hitting snooze, I decided it was because of the unknown. Something out of my control and could do nothing about. It was going to happen even though I really didn't want it to.
For months I'd connected with different moms, listening to every range of emotion from, "I don't want them to leave for college...or ever", to "I already have their bags packed". The biggest takeaway I've gained from this is to respect each person's path. People are wired differently, with their own life experiences and emotions. They handle change in their way and respond accordingly.
That being said, I knew myself and assumed I would take, "dropping our firstborn off to college" as an adventure filled with nothing but, "You can do this" or the "Places you'll go" kind of attitude.
When the actual morning arrived however, this was the furthest thing from the truth.
Still dark, I went down the hall to see if Christian was awake. Quietly opening his door, I heard his even breath as he slept. Refusing to cry, I immediately returned to the first days we brought him home from the hospital, when Adam and I ridiculously took turns watching over our sleeping newborn to make sure his breathing was steady.
Knowing we had too much to do, I shook my thoughts and began to brush the side of his hair above his ear, causing my throat to tighten as I've done this since he was a child. Again fighting the swell to cry, I smiled as I heard him whisper, "Today's the day".
The house awakened as our younger three began to appear from their rooms, my husband entered and I tried to gage his emotions. His expression was solemn. He and I knew the day would eventually come, it was impossible to believe it was here though.
Beginning the hustle and bustle of a home of six, I took each step with a gut punch as I methodically made four bagels, four this, four that, refusing to imagine what tomorrow would be like missing one.
Christian was packed and ready, said goodbye to our dog and headed to his car as the rest of us followed.
Hitting snooze, I decided it was because of the unknown. Something out of my control and could do nothing about. It was going to happen even though I really didn't want it to.
For months I'd connected with different moms, listening to every range of emotion from, "I don't want them to leave for college...or ever", to "I already have their bags packed". The biggest takeaway I've gained from this is to respect each person's path. People are wired differently, with their own life experiences and emotions. They handle change in their way and respond accordingly.
That being said, I knew myself and assumed I would take, "dropping our firstborn off to college" as an adventure filled with nothing but, "You can do this" or the "Places you'll go" kind of attitude.
When the actual morning arrived however, this was the furthest thing from the truth.
Still dark, I went down the hall to see if Christian was awake. Quietly opening his door, I heard his even breath as he slept. Refusing to cry, I immediately returned to the first days we brought him home from the hospital, when Adam and I ridiculously took turns watching over our sleeping newborn to make sure his breathing was steady.
Knowing we had too much to do, I shook my thoughts and began to brush the side of his hair above his ear, causing my throat to tighten as I've done this since he was a child. Again fighting the swell to cry, I smiled as I heard him whisper, "Today's the day".
The house awakened as our younger three began to appear from their rooms, my husband entered and I tried to gage his emotions. His expression was solemn. He and I knew the day would eventually come, it was impossible to believe it was here though.
Beginning the hustle and bustle of a home of six, I took each step with a gut punch as I methodically made four bagels, four this, four that, refusing to imagine what tomorrow would be like missing one.
Christian was packed and ready, said goodbye to our dog and headed to his car as the rest of us followed.
My head kept reminding me of how absurd it was to be upset. This was a good thing and he wasn't going far at all. His school is within the hour and I've watched many of his friends travel miles if not states away.
My heart though, my heart pounded out of my chest.
Pulling onto campus and navigating to his residence hall, tearful moms with eager kids and frustrated looking dads were scattered throughout the parking lot.
Bag by bag, we unloaded while helpful upper class students began to guide us in the right path. Music played and happy, fun older students welcomed our son. He met his two RA's, both girls which made our younger sons look like they were holding back high fives.
Little by little, almost as though on autopilot, we unknowingly fell into our places. The bed was turned into a loft, our daughter organized the desk and bed to her liking, while I Lysoled every square inch of the room.
My heart though, my heart pounded out of my chest.
Pulling onto campus and navigating to his residence hall, tearful moms with eager kids and frustrated looking dads were scattered throughout the parking lot.
Bag by bag, we unloaded while helpful upper class students began to guide us in the right path. Music played and happy, fun older students welcomed our son. He met his two RA's, both girls which made our younger sons look like they were holding back high fives.
Little by little, almost as though on autopilot, we unknowingly fell into our places. The bed was turned into a loft, our daughter organized the desk and bed to her liking, while I Lysoled every square inch of the room.
Before we knew it, the room was as ready as it could be. I tried to imagine what the year would be like while hoping, praying it would be amazing.
We gathered and held onto each other, each giving Christian a word of encouragement before we left, then praying while I continued to fight back tears.
One by one there were hugs and goodbyes. The younger kids and my husband left the room as I remained. Wrapping my arms around him, he lowered his head into my shoulder, then sank into me. I wept. Not like, a little, but the kind of ugly cry that almost never happens. How could I let go of this baby boy who I still see as being on his first day of Kindergarten?
Holding him with an unnatural strength, I managed to whisper, "Not only do you need to spread your wings and fly, I want you to soar".
The stairs down were somewhat of a blur as Christian followed us to wave goodbye. His roommate moves in today, and we're happy and thankful they'll be together.
I would imagine it gets easier as the days, months and years go by, but I'm not there yet. Everyone says when you know he's happy, it'll all be okay and I believe that.
I have a whole new respect for all of those before us and a love for those yet to experience sending your kids off. It's quite possibly the greatest division between your heart and mind you'll ever have, knowing they need to go, while simply wanting them to stay. At the end of the day, my heart took the lead as it went with our son, all while knowing his greatest adventure is wonderfully in front of him.
One by one there were hugs and goodbyes. The younger kids and my husband left the room as I remained. Wrapping my arms around him, he lowered his head into my shoulder, then sank into me. I wept. Not like, a little, but the kind of ugly cry that almost never happens. How could I let go of this baby boy who I still see as being on his first day of Kindergarten?
Holding him with an unnatural strength, I managed to whisper, "Not only do you need to spread your wings and fly, I want you to soar".
The stairs down were somewhat of a blur as Christian followed us to wave goodbye. His roommate moves in today, and we're happy and thankful they'll be together.
I would imagine it gets easier as the days, months and years go by, but I'm not there yet. Everyone says when you know he's happy, it'll all be okay and I believe that.
I have a whole new respect for all of those before us and a love for those yet to experience sending your kids off. It's quite possibly the greatest division between your heart and mind you'll ever have, knowing they need to go, while simply wanting them to stay. At the end of the day, my heart took the lead as it went with our son, all while knowing his greatest adventure is wonderfully in front of him.
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