A Birthday Letter to My Oldest

As I type this, I still find it hard to believe it’s true.

Admitting that you are turning 18 means that I am much older than I actually feel. (At least in my mind I’m still twenty-something, which apparently isn’t the case.)

We’ve grown up together, you and I. I was practically just a baby myself when I had you, but you became everything I could have ever hoped for. You made me a mom, which is a beautiful gift and also a slightly terrifying responsibility when you’re still figuring out life yourself.

You’ve been with me through a lot of the ups and downs of life. You were there for new siblings, new homes, new jobs, the messy and heartbreaking seasons and the beautiful ones.

You have given me strength and purpose when I didn’t have much to give.

We often joke that the oldest is the “guinea pig” of the family. It’s no secret that we didn’t completely know what we were doing and had a lot of trial and error in raising you. There were times when we got it wrong (sometimes really wrong), but there were also times when we got it right.

Hopefully, we got more right than we got wrong.

I love that you’ve always had this independent streak—equal parts brave and stubborn. (Still deciding if that’s a blessing or a curse, but mostly a blessing.) You were the first to test boundaries, the first to try things, the first to make me say, “Well, guess we’re never doing that again.” And at the same time, you taught me how true the statement "The love of a true mother comes nearer to being like the love of God than any other kind of love," is.

Eighteen feels like such a milestone.

I realize it’s just a number, just another year, but somehow feels heavy with meaning—like you’re officially grown, even though in my heart you’ll always be the little one who made me a mom.

It’s bittersweet, this letting go while holding on. It’s this in-between season where I’m both proud of your independence and grateful that you’re still here under my roof for a little while longer.

I’m excited to see all the places you’ll go, the choices you’ll make, and the person you’ll continue to become.

But part of me still wants to freeze time for just a minute longer.

Happy 18th.