Somewhere along the way, she stopped needing me to hold her hand as we walked in the parking lot. Somewhere along the way, he stopped needing me to read him stories before bed. She stopped needing me to wash her hair with the raspberry scented shampoo. He stopped needing me to tie his shoelaces. They don’t need me to choose their clothes or feed them or brush their teeth for them. At least not anymore.

My kids are growing up. And with it comes the inevitable – they need me less and less in their lives.

I should be relieved. This is what I wanted, right? The independence, the freedom, finally being able to do what I want to do?

Maybe not.

Somewhere along the way, I got used to being needed. It became my identity – and my idol. I realised that I need to be needed.

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