• gigi eligoloff

We divide childhood into stages, why not motherhood?

One sunny June day in 1988, Jayne was preparing for her son Adam's graduation. As her eldest, it was a moment for introspection and Jayne knew she wanted to capture her thoughts on paper by writing her son a letter, and one which his wife would read one day and share... Jayne called her letter: 'Letting go' and through a serendipitous journey, that letter found its way here, where we have her permission to share it with you. We hope you love it as much as we do.


"We are crossing the road together. My hand instinctively reaches out to him as if he were about to dash mindlessly in front of the next car. By my side, my son recognizes this familiar gesture. Teasing and humouring me, he takes my hand and we cross the street.



I have been a mother for almost eighteen Mother's Days. The son I am walking with towers above me. He will soon be a voting, consenting certifiable adult. He crosses oceans without my hand on his shoulder. The time has come for me to outgrow the superstition that mothers have the power to shield their children.


I have the sense that I am going through a stage. I wish there were a name for this time of motherhood. We glibly divide childhood into stages but we only have one word for the mother of babies and teenagers and adults.