The Unexpected Gift of Sharing Motherhood with My Daughters

 

There is something very different about raising a little one when your older children are grown and raising children of their own.

I never really thought about what that would feel like.

When I had my older children, I was simply their mom. I was in the middle of the sleepless nights, the busy days, the messes, the worries, the laughter, and all the little moments that come with raising children. I was just trying to do the best I could with what I knew at the time.

Now, I’m doing it again.

But this time, something is different.

My older children are grown. My two oldest daughters have children of their own. And somehow, we have found ourselves in the same season of life together.

We’re all raising little people.

We’re all tired sometimes. We all have days when we wonder if we’re doing enough. We all have moments when we need advice, encouragement, or simply someone who understands without having to explain.

And I think that’s one of the most beautiful parts of this season.

I get to watch my children become parents while I’m still a mother myself.

There is something incredibly special about being able to lean on one another in a way that I never could have imagined when they were little. We can talk about the struggles. We can laugh about the crazy moments. We can encourage one another when parenting feels hard.

I’m still their mom. That will never change.

But somewhere along the way, something else happened too.

My grown children started to feel less like just my children and more like my best friends.

That’s a strange thing to realize as a mother.

These are the same people I once packed lunches for, tucked into bed, worried over, and taught how to navigate the world. Now I’m watching them navigate parenthood themselves.

And sometimes I look at them and realize how much we’ve grown together.

I also think about what it must be like for them to watch me with Sophia.

They can see the way I look at her. The way I worry about her. The way I laugh at the little things she does. The way I stop and take in a moment because I know how quickly these years disappear.

And sometimes I wonder if they look at me and think, “Wow. Is that how Mom looked at me?”

Maybe they can see something now that they were too young to understand then.

Maybe they can finally see just how much I loved them.

Because children don’t always understand the depth of a mother’s love when they’re growing up. They know we’re there. They know we take care of them. They know we love them.

But they don’t necessarily understand what it feels like to look at your child and realize that your heart somehow exists outside of your own body.

Now my grown children get to see that love in my eyes when I look at their little sister.

And maybe, in some small way, it lets them see the love I had for them all along.

There’s another funny part about raising a little one while being a grandmother, too.

My older children get to see me in both roles.

They know I’m a grandma, but they also get to watch me snap right back into Mom mode.

One minute I’m enjoying the sweetness of having a little girl again, and the next I’m reminding her that we don’t throw things, trying to convince her that bedtime really is bedtime, or wondering how one tiny person managed to make such a huge mess.

And I imagine my older children sometimes have to laugh because they remember that version of me.

I’m still Mom.

I’m still the one who worries. Still the one who gives advice. Still the one who sometimes probably says things they don’t want to hear.

But now I’m also standing beside them in a completely different way.

They’re raising their children.

I’m raising mine.

And somehow, we’re all learning from one another.

I thought getting older would mean that the parenting chapter of my life would slowly become a memory.

Instead, I was given something I never expected.

I get to experience motherhood again, but this time with the perspective of a woman who has already watched her children grow up.

And I get to watch those same children become parents.

There is something incredibly beautiful about that.

Motherhood looks different now.

It’s softer in some ways. Harder in others. I’m more aware of how quickly the years pass. I’m more likely to stop and soak in the little moments because I know they won’t last forever.

And perhaps the greatest gift of all is realizing that the little babies I once raised have grown into adults who are now raising little babies of their own.

We’re in different places, but we’re walking through the same season.

And somewhere between being their mother and becoming their friend, I realized something I never expected:

I don’t just get to watch my children grow up.

I get to grow alongside of them. 

Have you ever found yourself in a season of life where your relationship with your children changed in a way you never expected? Maybe your children became parents, or maybe you simply realized one day that your relationship had grown into something more like friendship. I'd love to hear about it. Tell me in the comments. I'd love for us to share this season of life together.