Raising Our Wolf
May 17th, 2019
“And she loved a little boy very, very much—even more than she loved herself.” –Shel Silverstein
With my Wolf.
We are gearing up for a milestone event in our family. Our oldest son, Wolf, will graduate from high school on Sunday. It’s a first for us. (Our middle son, Hayden, will graduate next year, and our youngest son, Fin, will follow but not for some more years.)
How is it that our first son is graduating from high school? I know it’s a cliché, but it’s true. The “raising” of our children passes in a blink of an eye.
For a while now, I have teetered between feeling nostalgic (what I call “happy-sad”) and feeling celebratory. I know I’m not unique in how I’m feeling. After all, a gazillion mothers have gone before me in this experience. Still, even though Wolf’s high school graduation is cause for an Epic celebration, I’m feeling a little emotional…
A couple of months ago, during a solitary hike when I was thinking ahead to this milestone, and while having some tears, I realized, When I’m feeling sad, it’s about me, and when I’m feeling excited, it’s about Wolf. This has been helpful for me to remember because while I surely deserve to have some feelings of tenderness right now, this was the plan all along. After all, I’m not raising babies. I’m raising adults. (I am borrowing this apt and wonderful quote from Michelle Obama’s memoir, Becoming.)
Of course, we raise our children so they can leave the nest and soar. We don’t raise them so they can remain dependent and never leave home. That would not be “raising” them.
One of my favorite, and most influential, books is The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran. I turn to its essays often, especially when in need of wisdom. And I always find it. One of my very favorites is the “On Children” essay. I love it so much that I memorized it last Summer, and have recited it to myself on many occasions, almost as a form of prayer and meditation:
“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.”
I so love, and trust, these words, even if their wisdom is difficult to implement!
I am grateful to both of my sisters, Alicia and Amber, and to my friends who have gone before me. They have offered wisdom and inspiration and are great examples of how to “do” this milestone event. And, I have coached several women as they were going through this stage. I have recalled, often, the coaching calls and meaningful conversations I’ve had with each of them. It was a tremendous honor for me to be in their corner during such a momentous time in their life, and their sharing about their personal experiences has informed, inspired and comforted me during this bittersweet and tender time. Thank you to all of these special women! I love all of you.
As Wolf’s graduation is now upon us, I would like to put down some words for how I’m feeling as I reflect on our Wolf. If you read on, I thank you for your time, and I promise I won’t be as long-winded as I usually am!
Our all-grown-up and handsome Wolf!
Our Wolf arrived into the world 5 weeks ahead of schedule. He weighed just five pounds and was in critical care for 13 days. Our adorable little baby boy lay there, covered in cords that connected him to various monitors, including oxygen. It was hard to not be worried about our son, what with all the monitors and cords, and our inability to hold him. We prayed–and worried–a lot, even though our neonatal nurse, Gail (an Angel!) assured us that Wolf didn’t have any serious problems. “He just needs a little extra support to develop fully,” she said.
My not being able to hold Wolf was devastating, but I tried to make up for it by constantly being at his side. I sang songs to him. Amazing Grace, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Row Row Row Your Boat, and even Kumbaya. We also read poetry to Wolf, mostly Robert Service poems and of course a little Mary Oliver, too.
Come to think of it, Wolf’s birth story is quite telling. Today, Wolf is a poet, and I can’t help but wonder if those early poetry readings had an influence. He’s always been an early riser and arrives everywhere ahead of schedule. And, if Wolf needs an excuse for his affectionate and positive nature, which he is loved for by many, and also sometimes teased lovingly about, I suppose he could trace it back to all the Kumbaya we sang to him at the start.
Wolf, in Hawaii, at age 4. (What the hat says!)
My favorite, most unforgettable moments from those initial days of Wolf’s life, and of my life as a Mother, were when Wolf would look up at me with his bright blue-grey eyes. It was such a deep and special kind of connecting that happened in those gazes. It was the mother-child connection that formed, and until then, I had never experienced anything like it. (There’s a quote I discovered on Mother’s Day a few years ago: “The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” I couldn’t say it better.)
Wolf would grasp, tightly, my index finger with his tiny hand. He would do this for a long time, without letting go unless I un-grasped his tiny fingers so I could change positions or leave briefly to pump breast milk, use the restroom, or get something to eat.
When I recall those early days of his life, I can still feel him grasping and squeezing my index finger…
For almost two weeks, even though our nurse assured us Wolf was doing great and we could leave his side, to run errands, get a break or to spend a night at home, I seldom did. I never spent a night at home during those 13 days. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave his side. After so many months in the womb, my baby boy was finally here and I wanted only to be with him.
Carrying Wolf on my back in Zion National Park.
As Wolf grew up, he enjoyed spending time alone during which he would write and create stories and act out dramas and comedies with his various wild animal figurines or superheroes. He made sales pitches to us when he wanted something. He made fast friends wherever he went, and has always been thoughtful. For years now he has taken his camera and headed out on mini adventures to capture photos of interesting sights and his closest friends. He performed music and acted in made-up shows during camping trips and here at home, and he delivered presidential speeches to all of us on many occasions. He went on to be in Student Council for 8 years, including Student Body President his senior year and he’s a counselor for a summer leadership camp. Interestingly, these passions are all related to the path Wolf plans to forge. (He’ll attend the University of Wyoming this Fall to study marketing and creative writing, and he plans to continue his musical interests–songwriting and music production–on the side. He will study abroad during his sophomore or junior year. He is very excited, and we’re proud of him for earning significant scholarships.)
Wolf, indicating an early interest in deep thinking.
For as long as I remember, I have loved rising early to catch a sunrise, and I also love to watch a sunset. Over the years, Wolf has often accompanied me to chase a sunrise or chase a sunset.
Sunrise represents the start of something, a newness, a beginning. The sun arrives and greets us. It’s a time of hope and energy and possibility. It’s a time of anticipation and looking forward.
Sunset represents the passing of something, an ending of sorts. The sun leaves us, and in its place is night and darkness. The day is not new but rather expired. At least the day-blind stars become bright and are twinkling. For me, sunset is a time of looking back and reflecting on the day that is passing.
I suppose Wolf’s high school graduation is similar to a sunset. It’s the turning of a page. The end of a chapter. And, it’s a beautiful and spectacular thing to witness.
In recent weeks especially, I find myself hovering, trying to hold Wolf close, to “keep” him near. While I’m doing this and finding ways to “insert” myself into his life, Wolf is so ready to not be monitored and held.
I know it’s time to let go, but dang…
I can feel Wolf not grasping my finger anymore. He’s no longer in critical care despite the fact that the risks for him out in the big wide world are likely greater than they were when he was in the earliest days of his life.
In 2015, I took Wolf on a Mother-Son Epic Backpacking adventure where we spent 4 days in the wilderness together, just my oldest son and I. We had a great adventure and meaningful conversations I will never forget. (I took Hayden in 2016, and I will do the same for Fin the summer before he starts high school).
During our mother-son expedition, Wolf climbed Mitchell Peak all by himself. During his mountain climb, I sat on a rock and reflected on my oldest son and on being a mother. While reflecting, I came up with these words to describe Wolf using the letters of his name, and they still fit: Wolf: Wise, Original, Leader, and Fun/Funny.
I saved our deepest talk for Deep Lake, a favorite destination of mine. It was our last day of the expedition and I asked Wolf if we could make a simple promise to one another. He agreed and here’s what we came up with:
Me/”Mooma”: “I promise I will trust you if you promise me you won’t get too close to the edge.”
Wolf: “I promise not to get too close to the edge if you trust me.”
I have tried to remember these promises during Wolf’s last year of high school. It is hard to let go and trust when it comes to our loved ones, but having these promises we made to each other to remember has helped.
As Wolf gets ready to “launch,” I will be working hard to keep my promise and I hope that he will keep his. I say this knowing also that we’re human and we are likely to falter from time to time.
I’m reminded of the quote: “Prepare the child for the road, not the road for the child.” I hope we have prepared Wolf for the road. I can’t wait to see what Wolf makes of his life, and am so blessed to have him for a son.
Now it’s time to celebrate, and we are going to celebrate hard! 🙂
Congratulations to my dear “Wolfie!” We are so proud of you. You are the best Wolf in the Universe, and I love you more than life itself! All my love, and more, Your “Mooma”
A quote Wolf loves, and that perfectly captures Wolf’s current perspective.
For kicks, I took a photo of Wolf (almost) every school morning during his senior year. This is his 12th school year in 12 seconds:
Wolf, with his “Pack.”
- Categories: Adventure, Family, Life and Leadership
- Tags: high school graduation, leaving the nest, milestone, motherhood, parenting, sons, wolf
- Comments: 6 Comments
