When the Baby Drives Herself to School: A Reflection on Growth, Self-Care, and Letting Go

This morning, my baby drove herself to school for the very first time.

I didn’t even get to see her drive off. I had to be at work before she left, so I gave her clear instructions, equal parts love and mama-boss:“Text me the second you get there.” And she did. That text, that simple “I made it, Mama,” carried more weight than she’ll probably ever know.

Because while she’s growing up, I’m letting go.

And letting go is its own kind of self-care.

There’s something about your youngest stepping into more independence that makes time feel like it’s speeding up and standing still all at once. I’ve watched all my girls grow into strong, loving, wise young women. I embrace their independence. I love the bond we still share. I know they love and enjoy being around me. But if I’m honest… I miss the days of toting them around, sitting at track meets and basketball games, cheering at school productions, and juggling the beautiful chaos that raising three daughters brings.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what success really means.

Like many of you, I’m still chasing the wins—growing in my career, building my business, and walking confidently through the doors God opens for me. I want to build, to learn, to grow.

But even in all that… being a mother is my greatest joy.

There’s nothing that compares to the love I have for my girls or the pride I feel watching them grow. I’ve worn many hats and walked in many roles, but being their mama is the one that grounds me, teaches me, and fills me in a way nothing else can.

This kind of growth? It’s sacred.

It’s not just about our children growing up—it’s about us growing with them. As a mother, as a woman, as a person of faith, I’m learning to embrace the shifting seasons of life. I’m learning that it’s okay to feel both joy and sadness in the same breath. That it’s okay to miss the old days while still celebrating the new.

Self-care, in this season, looks like allowing myself to feel it all.

It looks like whispering a prayer for her safety, even if she doesn’t hear it.

It looks like trusting that the foundation I’ve laid will hold—when I’m there and when I’m not.

It looks like believing that my presence is still felt, even when I’m not physically present.

Maybe it’s because I’m older.

Maybe it’s because she’s the baby.

Or maybe… maybe it’s just because love doesn’t stop growing—even when your babies do.

So today, I’m giving myself permission to pause.

To feel proud. To feel a little tender.

And to honor this moment as another kind of milestone.

She drove herself.

And I’m still learning to let her.

And if you’re reading this—maybe in your own season of shifting roles and quiet milestones—I just want to say: you’re not alone.

You don’t have to choose between purpose and presence. You're allowed to chase dreams and still cherish the everyday. You can hold space for your becoming and still grieve what’s changing.

Let self-care be the bridge between who you were and who you’re becoming.

💛 Breathe before you respond.

💛 Step outside for just five minutes.

💛 Celebrate one thing you did well today.

💛 Speak to yourself with the same tenderness you give everyone else.

You’re not behind. You’re not too late. You're just evolving. And that? That’s something worth honoring.

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