What do you do with yourself when your only child or last remaining child gets ready to leave home and then flies away?
After your brief celebration of the new found freedom that comes with a childless house and nobody but yourself to take care of, you may have other feelings that arise. And these feelings may have been present for some time leading up to the launch. As much as you have prepared your child to make it in the world and be independent and figure things out on their own (and even encountered sleepless nights wondering if you did enough), nobody prepares you and you don’t account for how hard it may be on your heart when all your preparation works and they take off without you and don’t look back.
My son flew off to the University of Florida in the Fall. After a brief stint on the ride home from dropping him off of remembering my own college days of freedom and digging into the archives of Apple Music to blast the Indigo Girls through my car speakers, I felt my heart sink. I have been struggling, sometimes without recognizing what it is at first, with an up and down of mixed up emotions ever since. Some days I feel ready to move forward, dive into my own interests that have been on the back-burner for years, appreciate the freedom, feel grateful for my husband and our cozy nest we get to share together free of needing to constantly think about what my son might need, and then I might wake up feeling sad, heavy, tired, worried about how my son is doing and what he might need, missing the day-to-day duties of being a mom, missing my son, missing my little boy who isn’t so little anymore, and wondering if I did something wrong that he doesn’t reach out more.
Now, not every kid flies away and doesn’t look back, some stay more connected than others, but the bottom line is your relationship has changed. And you are no longer a parent in a primary day-to-day role in your child’s life. While at first that may come as a relief, because I don’t know about you but high school teenagers are not the most fun people to always be around, you may eventually come to really miss them and long to have some time with them or to be able to physically see them.
It’s a gradual journey – “There are two things we can give our children, one is roots…
When my son was going through his senior year of high school, he began to pull away from me emotionally (it had been more gradual up until that point, but that year it was a bit more drastic). He wanted to do everything for himself, he had his own activities, friends, and interests that he enjoyed separate from me. When he was little, we were quite the pair. I stayed home with him until he was 2 1/2 and then in preschool I would work around his schedule so when he wasn’t in school, it was usually me and him and maybe a play date here and there. When he turned 6, his father and I divorced and then it was just him and I at my house for 7 years while I was single. During those years I was a modern parent struggling to not let screens take over my little one completely so we spent many afternoons throwing a football, kicking a soccer ball, making up games outside, riding bikes, taking his scooter out, transporting him to playdates, soccer and football practices, odyssey of the mind practice, bookfairs, school events, miniature golf outings, bowling, movies, lego projects, train track construction, matchbox car racing, dinners, lunches, snacks, taking care of the many fuzzy friends he entertained, reading all kinds of fun books together, etc., etc., etc.
As he got older it was rides back and forth to school, listening to how he was navigating middle and then high school, finding new friends, branching out with girlfriends and independent friend outings. I was needed less but held onto what I could still do for him like take him shopping for homecoming or prom. I even continued to make that child lunch right up until his last day of high school! As the years went on, he needed me less and less but I was always there and stopped everything when the rare opportunity for a conversation or sharing presented itself. I helped him practice driving and then he could drive himself. Gone were the days of carline and that precious ride after school when he would be unusually chatty. It was my first real loss of my parenting responsibility. It was liberating and painful all at the same time. It was the first taste of what I am feeling now, but no less preparation.
Eventually he started working outside the home and had a full-time girlfriend. His priorities were changing. And rightfully so. He had his own ideas for his life and how he wanted to execute them. I could provide input but anything more than a gentle nudge was met with severe pushback. At some point I inadvertently stepped into a pothole of being the person who does everything wrong, is the subject of my child’s impatience, and seem to be unintentionally but constantly interfering with him taking his life into his own hands.
Where did my little lovebug go who lived to get a big hug from his Mom? Who shared with his friends and teachers about how close we were and how special our relationship is? And who asked me to complete a memory book called “My Mom” so he would be able to get to know me better? I miss him. And for all I know he still does and says and feels those things, but it is not in his current wheelhouse to share that with me.
These days he is off living his best life and fulfilling his life-long dream of being a Florida Gator. I am more proud of him that I ever thought possible. There are truly no words to describe the welled up feeling I get when I think about him or talk about him with others. His unflinching knowledge of himself and his ability to persevere through all obstacles literally blows me away. But what we don’t talk about with this of this type of independence and self-reliance is the feeling of rejection as a parent that has sent me reeling into an abyss where I feel a bit lost and unsure of how to regain my footing. As a therapist, I am fully aware that these feelings are my own and not my child’s responsibility to manage or take care of for me. But as a Mom, I still secretly wish he would reach back and reassure me that I did a good job and that he still appreciates our connection.
I realize that this is an inherent grief that comes with parenting. Hopefully we birth children with the purpose of eventually launching them into the world to become productive and loving citizens, not to keep them all for ourselves. But nobody prepares you for exactly what that separation may feel like. Hence, my writing this blog to you. Hopefully you can relate or somewhat prepare yourself for this life chapter. Although it will still be your own unique experience because your relationship with your child is unique and everyone grieves in their own way. But you may find some nuggets of experience here that at least helps you to remember that you are not alone if you are struggling.
For me, its a mixture of many different revolving emotional layers: relief, freedom, sadness, broken-hearted, joy, pride, fear, frustration, hurt, confusion, self-doubt, feeling pulled towards a more quiet, creative space, and a craving to take care of something or someone that needs me. Can you relate? Can you add more to the list?
… And the other is wings.”
After a few attempts to leap forward, I realize that what I need to DO is actually just to BE here, where I am, until the next step reveals itself. I need to feel and process all of the feelings and give myself permission to acknowledge that this is a huge life event and that even though I am a therapist and can counsel others through this life transition, I still need support for me. I am a huge advocate of working on my own stuff and therapy is a wonderful place to do that. And today I needed to write about it. And I need to trust in the foundation of my relationship with my son and hold hope that one day he will return to me in a new way, from a new vantage point, and our connection will reorient itself. But for now, he needs space and room to discover who he is without me. And I choose to respect his need for space. I would have appreciated it at his age and did when I was given space to spread my wings and fly. What a disservice we would do for our children if we help them to develop such strong wings only to clip them at their most shining moment!
Where do we go from here?
Set your children free.
Trust that they are capable and stronger than either of you realize.
Give them room to fly.
Give yourself permission to grieve, to feel it all, and to celebrate that you now have time and space for you.
Remember your own wings.
Trust in the strength of your connection to withstand life transitions.
Embrace your creativity.
When was the last time someone asked you what YOU wanted? Ask yourself that now.
Dream big! The possibilities are endless!
And remember that if you need more support, therapy is always here for you. I can relate and I will always respect your unique journey. One step at a time.
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