Forget “Failure to Launch” - What if your child is too successful?

It seems like yesterday that my oldest, Katie, was a tiny girl. When she was little we communicated in an almost magical way. There were times when I swore she could read my mind. This special bonding, mommy to firstborn, is sweet and deep. From the beginning, Katie was alert, curious and busy with the process of living. She wanted to understand everything and explored her world with relentless passion. By 18 months she could talk me into a corner and asked questions constantly. I soon gave up on listening to the radio in the car; Katie kept me in constant conversation as we drove from grocery to bank to library.

“Mommy, look that car is blue. Monkeys are funny. Does God sleep? Why do people smoke if they know that it’s bad for them? I want to get a pink dress like a ballerina. Why is all the grass green but flowers are all different colors? Does it rain on the moon? Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, ….I love you. I want to live with you forever and ever.”

That was yesterday. Sometime late last night, she turned 16 and left home to attend college. It was too soon for me. I thought I had more time. One minute she was happily attending a local high school, the next we were contemplating a letter from the State of Missouri inviting her to attend a new state program for gifted kids. While it was exciting to think her test scores had been good enough to elicit this invitation, I just wasn’t ready to let my baby go off to college. Missouri Academy was all the way in Maryville, Missouri, six hours away. This was my baby girl, my firstborn, my special oldest. I had never been away from her for more than a day or two. She was scared but thrilled to have the opportunity. She desperately wanted to take advantage of the offer. So much for living with me forever and ever. We let her go.

Now, at 23, Katie is studying to be a doctor. Her relentless curiosity has found an outlet in the inexhaustible body of medical knowledge. She attends UMKC, four hours away in Kansas City. We are still close, but I don’t get to see her as often as I would like. I am busy with life. She is busy with her studies. My main comfort, the one that kept me feeling okay through the last seven years, was that Katie consistently maintained that she wanted to come back and live in St. Louis when she did her residency. In my heart, I was comforted that she still wanted to “live with me forever”, well, at least in the same town. I thought I would be rewarded for letting her go, a kind of maternal compensation for allowing her to follow her dreams at 16. She would eventually return to me and we would live happily ever after.

Now, she is talking about moving to Seattle for her residency. I guess I should be happy it is not Singapore. How did this happen? What happened to “together forever.” It is tempting, as a parent, to keep her to her word. “But Katie, you always said you wanted to do your residency at Barnes-Jewish hospital.” Guilt might work if applied in just the right manner, “You know, your father and I are getting older, it would be such a help to us to have you nearby.” Yet, I know, deep down, that I must let her go, free with no strings attached. My role, from the first, has been to raise her up to be independent, productive and self sufficient. As conflicted as I am, I can’t justify molding her future to my need to have her close by. With this in mind, I am accompanying her this summer to check out Seattle. She still wants me to go along and keep her company; she still loves me. While we are there, we are going to take in an Alaskan Cruise, just the two of us. I am at peace with her, my special firstborn, pursuing her future with the same relentless passion that fueled her questions as a toddler. Whatever she decides about her residency, where ever she may go, I will try to listen and support her because, whether I like it or not, I know it is the right thing to do. And, who knows, maybe she will hate Seattle.