(Because “Relic” feels like something that belongs in a museum… next to a dinosaur femur and a rotary phone.)
My stomach churned as I waited for some brave soul to respond to the group chat. Silence. Then finally—ding—a text from my sister popped up in our private thread.
“Kelly, they basically have this wedding planned already. They’ve picked out colors and are looking at bridesmaids’ dresses. Karly knows what she wants, and this is their wedding.”
Excuse me? THEY?!
Who exactly is “they”? And how dare they start planning my daughter’s wedding without me—me! The resident event planner. The unofficial chairwoman of all things ribbon, floral, and meaningful. The woman who hosted and DJ’ed their high school dances and winter balls in my in-laws’ barndominium! The mom in charge of their team dinners and graduation parties. The mom who moved in way too much stuff to her first dorm room! The mother of the bride!
My chubby little fingers could barely keep up with the flood of questions firing from my brain like a T-shirt cannon at a pep rally.
Kim, ever the calm, slightly bossy older sister, elaborated:
“All the girls. She’s already made a Pinterest board. The girls—Presley and my twins, Brooke and Kate—are helping her browse bridesmaids’ dresses. Karly pretty much has it planned already.”
Planned? Already? Without me?
I didn’t want to hijack the wedding. I just wanted to co-create the wedding—with her. I imagined shopping, shared Pinterest boards, and mother-daughter brainstorming sessions filled with laughter, satin, and sentimental tears. Instead, I was watching the entire thing unfold from the cheap seats.
Kim, always quick to deliver a gut-punch laced with sisterly love, added:
“Kelly, it’s not like when we got married 20–30 years ago. Girls these days follow influencers, create mood boards, and know exactly what they want before the ring even hits the finger. Just be grateful for what she lets you do. Be supportive. It’s not about you. It’s about her. And Zaine.”
Of course, she’s right. She knows me too well. I do want it to be about Karly and Zaine… but part of me also hoped it could be about us. Karly and me. The way it used to be, before the college goodbyes and the growing up and the letting go.
Since she graduated from high school in 2021, so much has changed between us. I haven’t quite found my footing in this new season. I used to be “Karly and Presley’s mom.” Now I’m “Mrs. Brown,” or “Brinkley’s mom,” or “Chance’s wife.” And while I wear each of those titles with love, sometimes I ache for the version of me who used to dress them like twins, buy them the same presents, and permed their hair (which was much better than when they got bangs…).
It’s a strange, quiet grief—the kind that sneaks up on you when you realize you made a gallon of spaghetti… for two people. (Freeze it. They’ll be back from college eventually, like hungry raccoons returning to the trash can that raised them.)
The truth is, we’re all adjusting. Moms. Dads. Newly empty nesters. We celebrate while simultaneously grieving the echoes of what once was. And that’s okay. Give yourself grace. And maybe something chocolate while you’re at it.
A lot has changed since my heart surgery seven years ago. Just when I start to understand who God is calling me to be in this chapter, I feel like I lose traction and slip all over again—usually down the back steps while landing in a heap of twisted, mangled bones and flesh.
And Karly and I? We hadn’t had a “good” relationship in years—until this past school year, when we taught 5th grade together. Suddenly, she saw me differently. And maybe I stopped trying to control her… or did I? Is that what I’m doing now with the wedding? Trying to hold on to one last chapter where I still get a say? One final act in my role as an “active mother”?
Surrender is hard. It’s something I have to choose every day, not once and done—like eating one tortilla chip and putting the bag away. (Impossible.)
I’ve walked through seasons of joy and sorrow, laughter and loss. Some of the deepest pain I’ve ever felt has involved my children—those beautiful, complicated, beloved humans I carried in my body and still carry in my heart. I have never loved them less than with my whole being.
And when the ache rises, I look to the cross. I remember how God willingly gave His only Son—knowing full well the pain, the betrayal, the suffering that lay ahead. He did that for Karly. For Presley. For Brinkley. For Chance. For me. And for you, friend.
And I am overwhelmed.
With love.
With peace.
With hope.
Even when I feel a little bit like a ‘90s relic.
I didn’t want to hijack the wedding. I just wanted to co-create the wedding—with her.
~Kelly, A recovering helicopter mom
Part II Devotional – Go to Devotional Tab
Wallflowers 
Leave a comment