Nā te moa te rākau i takahi — It is the tree that is trampled by the moa and its growth is stunted.
Yes, it feels like a loss to see my three kids grow into young adults. My three children are my best achievements, mainly because I haven’t completely ruined and stunted their growth with very average parenting, as if I were feeling my way in the dark. That is the most overwhelming thing about becoming a māmā — that your entire reason for existing pivots to these three wee humans and everything else just becomes a sideline gig. They reflect like a mirror your good, bad and ugly, and their honesty is brutal sometimes, but what you receive is pride and a love that is all-enveloping and endless.
My kids and I attached ourselves to each other with the loss of their pāpā and so my meaning in life became intrinsically tied up with them. I am now faced with their impending departure, obviously not forever and not in some dark silence where I can’t connect to them, but I will be honest that it does feel a bit doom and gloom for me. Tell me to grow up and forge my own pathway, judge me for my co-dependency but it’s my truth, for now anyway.
Hei wharekura mōhou e tama — a platform to learn from son
My oldest boy, who is now 15, decided to cut the intangible umbilical cord to me when he was 12. The death of his father was a critical reason for this, as he felt he needed to go to boarding school and take a step forward on to his own pathway. It wasn’t easy to let him go as I had never dreamt that in a million years I would be sending my beautiful blue-eyed boy away to a Māori boys’ boarding school in the North Island. However, something inside me whispered that I needed to let him go and I did. I hadn’t fully comprehended the "lord of the flies" situation he was entering and the first year away was particularly challenging for both of us. However, because he had chosen to go, he would look at me through tears at the end of each holiday and tell me he had made the decision and that he was going back, it was heartbreaking. But like a phoenix rising from the ashes, this boy grew stronger and taller! And became independent and I could see the strengthening of his backbone with each year away from me. Our relationship also grew strong and a mutual respect and love developed.
Taku kuru pounamu — my precious adornment
My oldest, my daughter, has actually always felt a bit like my sister, if I’m honest. She looked at me on the day she was born with eyes from an old soul and I felt like she was saying, "c’mon, you are a mum now, get your act together!". However, as she now drives away in her car to school and hangs out with her friends and makes her own decisions, I feel a little bit like a waka lost at sea. She needs me less and that’s just the way it is.
I know I have been the downfall here of my own creation as I pushed her to be independent and strong and that is exactly what she has become. If I am truly honest with myself, I should have realised that she was never really mine to start with as my parents took her from us regularly with no boundaries when she was a baby.
My father would look at me with a scowl and tell me I was never to break her feisty spirit — and they are like peas in a pod, the pair of them, stubborn Taurians together. But knowing she will leave home does leave me with a deep sadness at the moment. Selfish I know, but indulge me.
Mā te huruhuru ka rere te manu — Adorn the bird with feathers so it can fly
As for my baby, the poor boy who is 13 and will always be called my baby, he is stuck with me for the next few years. But the idea that he will leave home is giving me heart palpitations.
My youngest is a quiet and empathetic soul. He is a great listener because he has a special superpower, which is a stutter, something he developed when his pāpā got sick — he was only 4 years old.
He has been my best wee mate, my silent observer, my spellchecker, my memory, and my creative person. He listens and hugs me when he knows I have had a bad day. He helps me bring in the washing and always does what I ask of him. Yes, you may be thinking who is this kid? His father and I often looked at each other and wondered where he came from. This isn’t a fait accompli, he puts a pressure on himself that manifests in anxiety and I just want to protect him from the world ... but to his credit he is pushing me back and doing his own growing. I know I am overbearing but that’s where I am at right now. Work with me!
In a Māori world they are the next generation, a hope, a whakapapa, a future and I know that I have sown the seeds for them to live in a fulfilling way but also give back to their village and, like a full circle, continue the cycle of life. I am just recalibrating as I let them grow and fly and I am slowly coming to terms with the journey ahead.
