Every mother lives with contradictions - pride in watching her child grow, and a secret longing to hold on just a little longer. This is my letter to my four-year-old son. To My Ruh This morning, when I left for work, you waved and said goodbye so easily. You didn't tug at my hand, you didn't cry. I should feel proud - you are growing up, becoming braver - but in that moment my heart wished you had held me back, just for a little longer. That's the strange truth of being a mother.