I cried a little because I was in pain and because I was slightly scared and because I was holding in my arms a tiny human who would totally depend on me and his daddy for every possible need.
Tears returned as we journeyed home, Steve driving north on Interstate 35E and me in the backseat, alternating my gaze between infant Cooper and the traffic that surrounded us.
Our little trio was out in the world for the first time, and I instantly understood the ubiquitous "Baby on Board" signs mocked by many. In that moment, I would have welcomed flashing yellow lights and a giant billboard atop the Passat, proclaiming "Brand-New Human on Board."
Parenting ever since has been an unpredictable journey marked by relief, joy, love, pain and fear, usually all at once.
This week brought one of the biggest milestones in the path so far. Cooper is now a licensed driver, with a used car that offers him newfound freedom. I'm happy for him and proud of him, of course, and I kind of want to drape his sensible four-door sedan in flashing yellow lights, topped with a giant billboard proclaiming "Brand-New Driver on Board."
As usual, many of my parenting worries aren't actually related to my children's choices. Instead, I'm concerned about the people around them.
I've got no control over the people who drive too fast on our street, when little ones are on scooters or drawing with sidewalk chalk or playing hide-and-seek on the block.
I can't force drivers at the four-way stop look up and pay attention to children walking across the busy intersection that separates our neighborhood from our schools.
I can do nothing about the folks out there who switch lanes without signaling or speed up when they should slow down or turn right on red without really looking.
So I'm facing this milestone like all the others. I'm praying that all the preparation plus all of his common sense will help guide him through tricky situations. I'm hoping that he keeps his cellphone in the glove box, that he chooses reason over risk, that he remembers no class schedule or appointment is worth skating through a yellow light.
With time, and a whole lot of deep calming breaths, I expect that I'll start to enjoy a little freedom, too. Cooper can now get himself to pre-dawn practices for band and cross country. He can drive to and from Sunday afternoon Boy Scout meetings and Wednesday night youth group.
I reserve the right, though, to chauffeur every now and then. I enjoy his stories from the classroom and his perspective on current events. I want to hear about the younger Scouts who act silly and the most recent lesson at church.
Those moments between destinations are often the most meaningful of the journey.
We're just a year and a half from another big milestone — high school graduation followed by college plans — and I'm starting to hoard the moments we have left. Because the thought sending my 6-foot-4 baby out into the world, far from home, overwhelms me with relief, joy, love, pain and fear, all at once.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.
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