An Open Letter to My Son, On Brink of Your Graduation

Caitlin Lewis
May 9
4 min read

I remember the exact moment I found out I was pregnant with you. I was only 20—just three years older than you are now, which feels surreal to even say out loud. But I never once regretted having you at 20. Even with all the judgment I faced—then and even now.

I’d been feeling off for about a week, but it never crossed my mind that I could be pregnant. It wasn’t until my best friend suggested taking a test that the thought even entered my head. She came over to our little apartment, and without hesitation—because I knew it would be negative—I took the test and left it on the back of the toilet. I walked back into the kitchen and sipped my coffee like nothing was different.

A few minutes later. I asked her to go check the result. She walked out slowly, and as soon as I saw her face, I just knew. She was studying nursing at the time and said there was a chance it could be a false positive—but we both knew what those five additional tests would say.

And they all did. Positive.

That moment was overwhelming. It was every emotion at once—shock, fear, joy, and disbelief. Your dad was in the Navy and on base, so I called the tire shop where he worked and asked for him. I was crying, panicking, not knowing how he’d react. We had just started our life together. When he picked up the phone, I blurted out, “I’m pregnant,” through tears. All he said was, “OK, I’ll see you when I get home.”

I was stunned. Was he mad? Upset? I had no idea. That was a long 6 hours waiting for him to come home. But when he walked through the door later, he had flowers and a card. The card read, “I don’t know why you thought I’d be upset. I could never be upset. I’m so happy and excited for this next part of our life.”

And from that moment on, the fear disappeared. Being 20 and pregnant didn’t scare me.

Your birth was planned—they induced me. We walked into the hospital with zero clue what we were doing. We hadn’t taken the classes, we didn’t have a birth plan. It was just typical Shane and Cait—winging it. But the second you arrived, you were perfect.

The very next day while we were still in the hospital, Dad got the call that he was shipping out in a few weeks for a 9 month cruise. That meant I’d be raising you, our newborn, alone in a new house we had just bought. We didn’t know what we were doing, but we figured it out. Dad leaving for a nine-month deployment didn’t scare me—because I had you.

Dad spent every moment he could with you before he left. I’ll never forget driving him to the ship, knowing the next time he saw you, you’d be nearly a year old. It broke my heart for him, but he called as often as he could, and I sent him photos constantly. While he was gone, it was just us—and they were some of the happiest days of my life.

I got to spend the first five years with just you. I waited to have another baby because I wanted you to have that special time with me. And then we had your brother. Can you even imagine life without Chase now? You were so excited to be a big brother, and from that moment on, you’ve been the best role model I could have ever hoped for. You are his hero.

Every year, every month, every day that passes—you impress me more. Your drive, your ability to stay true to yourself in a world that tries to make everyone fit in, and your huge, quiet heart that you guard closely—you carry all of that with strength and humility.

We grew up together, you and me. And while no 17-year-old wants to hear his mom say it… you are my best friend. You’re the first person I want to call when something amazing happens—and the first one I go to when it all falls apart. I know you’ll be the first to defend me, the first to hug me when I need it most, and the one who can make my day better—especially when I finally get that smile out of you.

You’ve made this parenting thing pretty easy.

What you haven’t made easy… is letting you go.

There are so many ways to describe how I feel about you, all of them rooted in love, pride, and awe. The selfish part of me is heartbroken that this chapter is ending. But the bigger part of me—your biggest fan—can’t wait to watch you step into the next one.

I’ll be cheering for you louder than anyone when you make those big sucessful moments and I’ll be right there to lift you up if you stumble.

Because that’s what you’ve always done for me.

When I didn’t think I could go on, I looked at you—and I could. When something amazing happened, you were the one I wanted to share it with first.

Thank you, Bryson.