What Motherhood Is Teaching Me About Letting Go of “The Right Way”
How my toddler’s small “wrong” way of doing things is teaching me to loosen my grip and grow with him.
Reading time ~4-6 minutes
I knew I would be a mom for as long as I can remember.
I used to play with dolls at a very young age and imagine what being a mother would look like for me someday.
Fast-forward almost thirty years, and he’s actually here.
And I still stare at him in disbelief.
He is so much more than I could have imagined in every way, and I am aware of the answered prayer before me.
There were plenty of things people warned me about before becoming a mom.
But this part?
No one told me about this.
This completely surprised me.
The “Wrong” Way That Worked
One day we were rushing out the door.
The last thing I had to do was put his shoes on and get him into his car seat.
If you know anything about leaving the house with a toddler, it can be absolute mayhem.
Everything can go wrong and suddenly you’re late, flustered, and wondering why you ever made plans in the first place.
But on this particular day, everything was going right.
When we got downstairs to put on his shoes, I felt a familiar sense of dread. Putting on tiny shoes can sometimes be frustrating.
It always feels like a fuss — one shoe missing, him wanting to play, and the quiet uncertainty of whether he’ll even fit them this week because he’s growing so fast.
But that day was different.
Instead of sitting on the stairs like usual, he climbed onto the couch.
Not sitting neatly, but on all fours, with his feet hanging off the edge and his toes pointing down toward the floor.
He was giggling.
And my instinct was to reposition him.
That’s not how we put shoes on.
That’s not the “right” way.
But I didn’t have time. I just wanted to get out the door.
So I left him exactly as he was and slipped the shoes on from that position.
And it was… easy.
And light.
No fuss. No wiggling. No resistance. The shoes slid right on.
Different Isn’t Wrong
We rushed out the door, and I didn’t think much of it — until the next few times we put on his shoes and he automatically assumed that same position.
That’s when I paused.
He was already doing things his own way.
Not wrong. Just different.
And if I’m honest? I actually prefer this way now.
It’s easier to pull the shoe up over his foot than to grip and try to stuff his foot down into it.
It makes more sense.
That single experience opened my eyes to how he approaches so many other things.
The way he arranges his blocks.
The order he eats food from his plate.
The way he’s approached potty training — on his own timeline, with his own determination.
I’m noticing a pattern.
He does things differently.
And sometimes — even at two years old — his way is better.
When The Season Changes
No one told me that this early on, he would be teaching me lessons about myself.
About letting go.
About allowing things to be.
About not planning everything down to the last detail — and gracefully adjusting when my original idea isn’t the best one.
Motherhood has a way of making you reassess what you believe is “right” in real time.
It has helped me give myself grace and shift my perspective instead of clinging to what I thought something should look like.
As we prepare him for what’s next, I didn’t expect the wave of emotion that comes with watching him grow.
The theme of letting go is everywhere.
The Stretch of Growing
The season of him being a tiny baby was absolutely incredible and I entered that season determined not to miss it — not to miss him.
I soaked in every squeal, every soft cry, every opportunity to kiss and snuggle him.
And I missed none of it.
I am proud of myself, and the resources we had, that allowed me to be present in that season and give it what it deserved.
But I wasn’t prepared for it to end.
He is growing before our eyes — determined, curious, full of adventure.
And as he naturally transitions into new stages, I feel how fleeting time really is.
And, if I’m honest, the last few months I’ve tried to hold onto a season that is already shifting.
So this time, I’m trying something different.
A Deepening
I’m learning to appreciate what was — and instead of grieving the closing of that treasured chapter, I’m choosing to find joy and possibility in what’s unfolding next.
Letting go more.
Not gripping.
Not over-correcting.
Not clinging to my idea of the “right” way.
What’s helping me most in this new season is realizing that I don’t have to treat it like something is truly lost.
This is our child.
My son.
We are linked for life — Lord willing, and beyond.
I’m not losing him.
I’m meeting him again.
I get to discover more of who he really is in this next season. And in the process, I’ll discover more of myself. My husband will discover more of himself too.
So, it’s not an ending. It’s a deepening.
Yes, I will grieve who he was as a tiny baby — and what our rhythm looked like then.
But as long as I am willing to audit myself, to grow with him instead of against the change, I don’t lose him.
I get to have him for life.
One Final Thought
I now know that this stretch in motherhood isn’t about sadness.
It’s about making room.
For new ways.
For growth.
For change.
For something better than I originally planned.
And that actually feels less like grief — and more like a privilege. 🤍
With Love,
Ambyr
