PART 17 – I Had Spent Too Long Waiting for My Daughter to Tell Me She Was Struggling, When I Should Have Made It Easier for Her to Speak

I used to think the hardest part of raising a child was knowing when to let go.

Lauren had grown up.

She had a husband, two children, and a home of her own.

I couldn't make her decisions for her, and I didn't want to.

But I was beginning to understand that letting go did not mean becoming unavailable.

There was still a place for me in her life.

I had simply been too comfortable assuming she would tell me when she needed it.

A missed call had taught me more about that than years of ordinary conversations.

I had been at church that Christmas Eve, helping put things away.

Lauren had called.

I hadn't answered.

Then she sent a message that allowed me to believe everything was fine.

I had accepted it because it was easier than wondering what she might have needed.

I couldn't change that now.

I could only stop pretending it hadn't mattered.

The hardest part was realizing that Lauren had not needed to find a better way to ask for help.

She had already called.

I had missed it.

I had expected her to make another attempt if the situation was serious enough.

But she had been caring for two sick babies, both only seven months old.

She had already asked Cole to stay home.

He had refused.

She had tried to reach me, too.

Why had I expected her to keep trying?

That question stayed with me.

I had no answer that made me feel better, and I stopped searching for one.

I thought about the front door where Lauren had stood with Noah against her shoulder.

Cole had been getting ready to leave for dinner with clients.

She had asked him to remain home because both babies had fevers.

He had told her to contact the pediatrician again.

She had already done that.

I imagined how exhausting it must have been to explain something that seemed so obvious to her.

She didn't need a lecture about what a doctor could do.

She needed another adult beside her.

I had not been there.

For years, I had admired Lauren's ability to handle things.

If she had a problem, she tried to solve it.

If she was upset, she often found a way to make the situation sound smaller.

If she needed help, she usually apologized before asking.

I had called that independence.

I had never stopped to wonder whether she had learned to be so careful because she didn't want to inconvenience anyone.

I could not know how much that habit had shaped her life.

But I could see how easily I had benefited from it.

When she told me she was managing, I felt relieved.

When she said she was fine, I accepted the answer.

When she didn't ask again, I assumed she had everything under control.

I had allowed her strength to make my own life easier.

That was difficult to admit.

I had never wanted Lauren to feel alone.

But wanting something and helping make it possible were two different things.

I could not change what had happened on Christmas Eve.

I could change what happened the next time she reached out.

That was where I had to begin.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Christmas Rolls Were Ready on Time, but I Finally Understood That I Had Been Paying Attention to the Wrong Things