A Letter to my son’s previous Mom

There are so many things I need to tell you about your son.  The ways he has grown and matured, fallen and gotten up again are uncountable.  There have been moments of greatness and failures that made me cringe.

The path I’ve taken with your son curves in a much different direction then it did 8 years ago.  The turns became staircases and the levels we’ve reached have surpassed my wildest dreams.


Photo by Jeremy Paige on Unsplash

All those nights you suffered in pain after his birth, the illness that wouldn’t allow you to nurse, and the baby who drained your last bit of energy with his nonstop crying was worth it. The day you peered through the nursery window of the ICU weeping in silence because you couldn’t hold your baby boy, those tears would become tears of joy.

The daily RED behavior reports from preschool no longer kill your soul.  Your 4-year-old will cease to wonder why he never gets green.  The kindergarten meltdown in which he couldn’t stop screaming and you were called to pick him up, that too will become a distant memory.  Honestly, what would you do if you made it to blue for the first time, EVER?  Then, one word muttered out of turn moved you down the colors of shame spectrum.  The chance our B could’ve brought home a blue behavior chart to his Mami was shattered.  The one day he could’ve shown us he was a “good” boy, was lost.

The whispered conversations of family members and strangers have faltered.  They’ve stopped telling you to “get control of that boy.”  Others are now amazed at who he is, what he creates and how he guides his siblings.
The day you received the phone call that your son had fallen off the monkey bars, you thought he jumped, didn’t you?  That was the first thought to enter your mind.  The teacher’s exasperated looks and the principal’s awkward smile after the team denied a special education plan, also had something to do with you.  You told yourself he was different, but I know you’re insecure.  You secretly wondered if you might have caused this.

Photo by Arnold Exconde on Unsplash

For every step we’ve taken forward, I’ve left you further behind.  I’m sorry that your son isn’t who he was when you first met him.  I’m sorry that your hopes and dreams of motherhood have been smashed to pieces.  But I had to break you to see our son.  And the reason is so simple:  he was never yours, or mine. He was always himself.  As he embraces the power and quirkiness of his mind he lights a fire of learning and yearning in his heart.  He also leaves his stressed-out, misjudged and well-intentioned mother behind.  Out of your ashes, I came.  I’m a crusading partner.  I’m a shadow boxer.  I’m a shit-stirrer.  I’m a warrior.  I’m tearing down everything you thought motherhood would be.  The first rule of motherhood:  Mothering has little to do with the woman who bore the child and everything to do with the child she bore.

If you’re parenting a child who is “different” know you’re not alone.  October is ADHD Awareness month.  Please share this story.

Published by FamilyADDventures

I'm an educator by profession and mom to 3. My husband, eldest son and I have ADHD. My aim is to help families overcome the challenges of ADHD, whether it be at home or navigating the classroom. I'm an advocate for all children, but especially for those who are "different." Through this blog I share my story of building our best life and solving typical ADHD “problems” in creative and inspiring ways. Welcome to our Family ADDventures.

One thought on “A Letter to my son’s previous Mom

  1. Hi Colely – I love the way you wrote this but I was traveling when I read it and do not think I expressed my appreciation enough to you about how your put this together. It is dramatically written in a very positive way and really hits the ball home. You learned how to raise your Beni in fine ways and look at the young boy who you call Beni now. You and Beni have bonded over the last few years in greater ways and you both understand each other. There is a depth that has grown between you. I believe that he misses you when you are apart because he knows you will ALWAYS understand him.

    I certainly have grown from watching you raise Beni. I do not remember exactly when I went into a different mood of understanding Beni but I think it was when he was 4.5 to 5 — when the rest of us outside your core family really knew that Beni was his own little being and we had to realize that and understand him in order to love him, and, more importantly for me, have him love me.

    I put your recent picture of Beni as my home page on Facebook in honor of all you have done to learn about Beni and ADHD. I did not say that, of course, when I change my page, but that is why I did it.

    I love the way in which you putting the pen to paper on these posts.

    Love you always,

    Moma xoxox



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