Just because our kids can do up their own coats, cut their own food, and tie their own shoes doesn’t mean parenting gets easier. To be honest, I find it harder now than those days of toddlerhood. It’s hard to just sit. Sometimes, I just want to do something. But I can’t. Scrapes and sibling arguments feel like a walk in the park compared to the larger struggles they face as adults. We know what those are struggles are like ourselves, and despite our desire to shield them from them, we would be doing them a disservice to hope they didn’t have to go through them. They need them to learn that God is faithful.

My middle child was diagnosed with asthma when he was a few months past his 2nd birthday. The diagnosis came after a very acute attack, and a frantic trip to the ER where my son spent the next three days, and where my husband were given an education about asthma.

Every asthma sufferer has something that trigger his symptoms. Some people have allergies, or wheeze because of stress or exercise. Our son’s triggers were infection, both viral and bacterial. Kids get sick; trying to keep him from being set off was like nailing jello to the wall.

I feel like he coughed for the next ten years. After the diagnosis, it took a long time to get things under control. He would cough a lot at night, especially. It would wake me. I would lie there, listening closely, holding my breath, waiting to determine if he would need medication, if he was going to get acute enough to demand a trip to the ER, or if it would stop. When the house became silent again for a long enough time, I knew it had passed. I would relax, and think, “He’s okay. Now, I can rest.” It was a wonderful feeling.

This is a picture of parenting adult children.When my son was lying there coughing, I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was wait to see if I was needed. When we parent adult children, we have to do a lot of waiting and listening.

When my children were little, it seemed so much more straightforward. I prayed for wisdom to know what to say; now, I pray for wisdom to know if I should say anything. That is one of the hardest things I have learned as my kids have grown up: knowing when to speak. The wrong word can make a mess of things, and a word not offered can do the same thing.

My children are still establishing themselves as adults. There are still “growing pains,” albeit much more complicated ones. I continue to hold my breath, waiting, sometimes late at night, wondering: can I relax now?

I don’t know as if there is a permanent state of relaxation as a mother.

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