Parenting is a pathway filled with milestones. When I was pregnant, there was the shock of my baby’s first in utero kick. I’ll never forget the joy of a first smile that seemed like a reward for managing to keep a helpless being alive. Then there was the surprise, shared by both me and the baby, of their first rollover, the dribble that accompanied a first tooth and the renewed physical exertion that followed my little one’s first steps.
It’s no accident the word “first” was used multiple times in the previous sentences. That’s because most milestones are associated with beginnings. But what about final milestones? Those moments where you are forced to step off a parenting pathway stone that has become so familiar that your foot has created its own groove? As my youngest child approaches the end of year 12, I feel as if life has hit fast-forward and is catapulting me through a rapid series of final moments.
Of course, “last” milestones also happen in the earlier years of parenting, but they’re less noticeable and less celebrated simply because they usually can’t be predicted until they’re firmly in the rear-vision mirror.
It’s common to only realise your bub has had their last breastfeed once they refuse the next offer. I was relieved when my youngest was able to climb up into the car by himself, but I didn’t know this was about to happen on the final of the thousands of times I’d lifted him in. There’s great poignancy when a child stops automatically reaching for your hand while walking, or no longer waves excitedly from the school bus window, but these final milestones are rarely announced ahead.
The end of primary school was one final milestone I had anticipated. It was intensely bittersweet, with pride sitting alongside waves of nostalgia (enhanced by the emotive-music slideshows during the final assembly!).
But, after primary school comes high school so, though life changes for now-adolescent kids and parents, there’s still a large school-shaped stone on life’s pathway.
The end of high school is huge for everyone, but this time it’s my youngest child, so (as the young people say) it hits different.
We noted the “last first” day when school started this year. The next final milestone was the last ever parent-teacher interview. Funnily enough, it was the best one ever, as my kid has reached the age where teachers know him, his strengths and his interests so well that the interviews became mutual-appreciation sessions, with teachers praising my son and me praising the teachers for their years of work and care.
I won’t miss the school grounds as, thanks to Covid and floods as well as my kids’ stay-away vibe, I haven’t been physically present very often. However, during the year 12 graduation assembly last week, I was hyperconscious that this would be my last time inside the high school gates. And, yes, the emotive music-filled slideshow tracking the growth of my son’s cohort from tiny year 7s to towering year 12s did its emotional work well.
Not all the final milestones will be tinged with sadness. I won’t shed a single tear about not having to make school lunches any more. Nor will I be the slightest bit sad about no longer having to reply to text messages when my son is unwell (though I do hope I brought a small smile to the office staff with my more creative responses, such as “Sorry he’s not at the swimming carnival. He’s nearly an adult and I need to pick my battles”).
Final milestones means there will be new stepping stones on the path ahead. But the shape and texture of these pavers are not yet clear, as the transition from year 12 to the “real world” is full of uncertainty. Though the end of classes are celebrated with muck-up days, assemblies and parties, there’s still the hurdles of exams and, for those planning to head to university, Atars and offers.
My son wants to do a gap year, but work and travel plans are still up in the air. I’m looking forward to a more me-time focused life, but I’ve already been disavowed of my naive notions that this next parenting stage is entirely stress-free.
Because my son is the youngest of his cousins, the end of his schooling feels like an extended family milestone as well as a more personal one. I used to be bemused whenever speaking with someone who was unaware of when school holidays were but, to celebrate my absolute final school bell, I’m going to make “blissful ignorance of the school year” my top goal for 2026.
• Vivienne Pearson is a freelance writer
