I had two boys, one vaginally and one by C-section. I wouldn’t trade either experience for anything. I will never forget the overwhelming love I felt holding each of them for the first time, lying in that hospital bed, just the two of us, looking into each other’s eyes.

We hoped our boys would be best friends. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Our oldest carries my laid-back side, our youngest my high-adrenaline side. Their personalities, interests, and ways of being are completely different. As toddlers, their relationship was sweet and simple, full of play at home and daycare. As they grew, things shifted.

Now, in their 30s, I see something deeper, a quiet respect for each other and the understanding that they will always be there for each other when it matters.

Balancing work and home life felt easy. My husband is a doer, always trying to keep everyone happy. I, on the other hand, was not much of a cook and not the mom who loved playing on the floor. But I did the best I could, with Hamburger and Tuna Helper… lots of it.

And those battery-powered swings? Lifesavers. My boys could sleep in those for hours while I got things done.

I loved my boys fiercely. I fought for them, made sure they had what they needed in school, supported their interests, and I showed up.

My husband and I didn’t fight. We showed love to each other, to our families, to our children. That may be the most meaningful thing we passed on.

If I could change anything, I would have fed them differently. I would have gotten down on the floor more, played race cars and video games with them instead of watching. I would have slowed down and let them do more for themselves.

I asked them questions, but if they didn’t answer quickly enough, I answered them. I filled the space.

Now I watch them with their own children.

They listen.
They don’t interrupt.
They let their children choose, ask their questions, take their time.
They are present. Patient. Intentional.

They are giving their children something we didn’t always know how to give.

And it’s beautiful.

I was, and still am, a good mother.

They took the love we gave them, learned from it, and built something even stronger. They are incredible fathers and partners.

They still tolerate my hugs, cheek and head kisses.

With my grandchildren, I’ve slowed down. I get to their level and look them in the eye, which I have learned from watching my sons. I listen more. I let them lead. I sit with them, play with them, and let them be exactly who they are.

I tire more easily, but I am doing the things I didn’t always do with my boys, and I love that my grandchildren want to spend time with me.

Life has come full circle.

What I didn’t understand then, I understand now in a different way.

So much of what I teach today is about slowing down, listening, and allowing someone to have their own experience, in their body, in their timing.

I see now how often I rushed that. Not out of harm, but out of habit. Out of wanting to help.

Now, I do it differently.

And when I’m gone, I believe my children will miss me, and smile at who I was and how deeply I loved them.

I did the best I knew how.

Image via Pexels

Read Articles by Susan