Moving Away

I am the oldest of 3 children. I was the first to go to school, the first to play sports, the first to graduate, go to college, get married and have kids. I am a family person. You typically hear of a “Daddy’s Girl”. My father is a wonderful and hard-working man. I have learned so much from him. I have found, though, that I am more of a “Mommy’s Girl”.

I have so much in common with my mom. After I graduated high school I went to college at UMF. Not terribly far from the small town that I grew up in, but far enough away from my family that I hadn’t been away from before. I shed some tears as my parents left that first day of college. Wondering how I was going to survive without them. Knowing that my mother broke down on the car ride home was even more heartbreaking for me.

Fast forward to when I had my first child. It was 2010, and I was living about 2 hours from home with my husband. My sister and mom have made the drive to Lisbon at the perfect time because I was being induced. They stayed at my house and had a “welcome home” sign for when we brought Carson home.

I remember coming home that evening and being so excited that my mom was going to be there for another night. Someone who knew what they were doing! That all came to a halt when my sister got sick. Which meant they decided to go home. I was devastated. I remember rocking Carson to sleep in his bedroom and just crying. Crying for my mom. Crying because I felt alone. Just for clarification, my husband was there and super helpful, supportive, you name it. But there is something about having your mom there with you when you have your first child.

Six years later I still live about 1.5 hours away from my family. My brother and sister both live with 45 minutes of my parents and are able to visit more frequently than my family is. I feel sad. I feel sad that I can’t just come home when I want or visit my nephews for the afternoon. When we come, it usually is for an overnight because it is just too much work to pack up 2 kids for just the afternoon.

When we do make the overnight trip, I shed a few tears again when Sunday comes and I know we have to leave. As we pull out of the driveway I hold back the emotions so that my son, who is already upset about leaving, doesn’t worry about why I am sad. Tonight I came to my parents house without the rest of my family. I spent the evening with my sister and her two kids. Tomorrow we will go shopping, just us girls (mom included). I am really looking forward to it. But what I am not looking forward to is leaving on Sunday. Leaving with those tears that I just can’t seem to hold back. At 33 years old I still need my mom…