On letting go

It occurred to me recently that from the moment our children are born, we begin the process of letting them go. It's a slow process, or so it seems when you are living it, but yet it goes by in the blink of an eye. We let go of them when we encourage their first steps. We let go when we let them walk across the street to the neighbor's house for the first time. We let go a little more on the first kindergarten bus ride. We let go when they are young adults, and we see them doing stupid things and want to take the reigns from them but stop ourselves. We let go when we step to the side and let them develop their own families.
All of us are sons and daughters. Some of us have sons and daughters. We are all at some point of letting go. But, we are letting go only to embrace new and deeper places in our relationships. If our child never learned to walk, we could never cheer them on as they are running to home plate at the game.
I have been thinking about Isaac starting school next year. I had been seriously considering homeschooling him. But recently, for many different reasons, I have decided to send him to school (I will remain a homeschooling mom by heart, however, and reserve the right to bring him home at any time). One thing I realized is that part of the reason I contemplated homeschooling was to avoid letting go of him. In my mind's eye, I still picture him as my sweet little baby. The memory I pull out so often is from when he was so sick. In this memory, I am in his hospital room with him. We are alone, the room is dark, and we are rocking in a big rocking chair. I sing and sing, because that is all that keeps him relaxed. I sing until my voice is hoarse. He is so little and precious and helpless. I know he is a big boy now, but it is so hard to let go of that picture I have. He is still my baby, and I cannot imagine handing him over to this world. It is so cruel, so harsh. He and his brother are what is most precious to me in life.