A Seasoned Mom’s Updated Love Letter to a Teenage Drew

Dear Drew,

When I was pregnant with you, you dropped in the 30^th week and I went into pre-term labor.

The doctor could feel your head during my exams, which signaled to her that if I continued with my normal day-to-day activities, my contractions would continue and you would be on your way even though it was seven to ten weeks too early.

To paraphrase the doctor, you had to bake a little longer as there were vital organs that had not yet fully developed and you needed them.

When I told you this story a few weeks ago, you said, “See?! Y’all were holding me back!”

I replied, “Ah, Grasshopper, it was then that I intuitively embraced the role of protecting you from what you may think is best to ensure your safety and success because you just don’t know everything yet.”

Now as you grow into a young woman and begin preparing for the next phase of your fabulously destined life, we sometimes butt heads because, as your Mom, I know that you still have to bake a little longer.

There are still “vital organs,” facets of your maturing, that are not yet fully developed and you need them.

When you tried to enter this world prematurely almost 16 years ago, I was placed on bed rest for seven weeks to make sure you stayed put.

You see, even though the doctor wanted me to go the full 40 weeks, it was OK if you came in Week 37. So when Day 1 of Week 37 got here, I started doing jumping jacks and somersaults so you would come out!

But, in true Drew fashion, you took your sweet time and did not come until Week 39.

I like to say you’ve been engaging the world on your terms ever since.

So now you’re 15 in the tenth grade, which is kinda like Week 30. We still have a while to go before it’s time for you emerge from the womb of love, safety, security, and guidance, even though it’s an incubator you chafe against at times.

But trust me, when you do go out into the world, I predict you will look at me the same way you did when they first placed your tiny body in my arms.

You gazed at me steadily, appearing to be quite perturbed at the abrupt ejection from your warm and comfy cocoon, and, without blinking, your facial expression seemed to say, “So, this is it?”

But I looked back at you knowingly and smiled through happy tears and simply said, “Hey girl, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Just like carrying you and giving birth, preparing you to leave the nest is labor. It’s a process that seems simultaneously long and short and is often times uncomfortable, inconvenient, messy, bloody, and painful.

But it is also so very worth it.

So as we make our way through these last few years of high school, I’m keeping a watchful, loving yet appropriately distant eye on you.

I’m guiding you and praying.

I’m calling in the Village to encircle us in love and wisdom.

And I’m asking you to place your trust in me.

The life of promise I saw for you when I first laid eyes on you is beginning to come into focus.

And just like during bed rest, instead of rushing the process, I’m listening to the experts and learning, watching, growing, and loving right alongside you.

And I’m still so glad you’re here.

Love, Mom