The Motherhood Moment of Truth

The moment we've prepared our children for, as parents, arrives like an unexpected knock at the door. Once bustling with the laughter and footsteps of our beloved offspring, our homes now settle into a new rhythm – one where our child's heartbeat is elsewhere. This transition, infamously known as the 'empty nest,' is both liberating and lonely. The mix of pride and sorrow can be particularly overwhelming for the parent whose child has spread their wings, embarked on a daring adventure, and landed a new life nearby or across the country. I am bearing down as if I am birthing my firstborn anew as he prepares to begin the next phase of his young adult life - 3,000 miles away.

Both of my kids went to school on the East Coast, within a drive or short flight away. My older child landed in Philadelphia after finishing undergrad to pursue what we thought would be at least a 3-year graduate school experience. But, as happens, his summer internship after graduation became a contingent job offer as long as he could finish his Masters program in one year. He did, and the offer came through, and now he is meant to begin his career on June 3rd. This is all great news, except now he will live on the West Coast, and Saturday brunches or the occasional pop-in for the weekend is no longer on the table. Suddenly, he will not be accessible to me in the way he was before, and our visits will be tied to holidays or special occasions. This is a whole new adjustment.

I wanted my children to follow their dreams. I never imagined that they would return to their hometown and take up residence. And, with my older son, who enjoys a bit of wanderlust, I knew he would not be as compelled to stay close to home. While he loves his family and is beginning to realize how different living so far away will be, his overarching emotion is enthusiasm and excitement for the unknown.

The Pivot

Even though I still have a younger son in college, I am realizing that my life is rapidly pivoting to not just being an empty nester but also redefining my role as a parent. I recently talked to a friend about working when you have children and asked the very poignant question of whether or not I was still considered a working mother. I mean, I work, and I am a mother, but I certainly cannot relate to the challenges of mothers of younger children or even those of teenagers who are executing a delicate balancing act. Now, life is really about ME. I am not spinning plates or dividing my time between my children's needs and activities and my work and personal life. Life now revolves around my relationship with my significant other, friends, and career. It's like I am in my 20s again. Except it's not. Sure, my kids are part of it, but they operate on the periphery. This is about to shift once again because my older son will be financially independent and beginning his journey of adult life. I am now more of a trusted confidant and enthusiastic observer.

I was hoping, when I began writing this, that some wisdom would appear as I typed the words. But, alas, there is none here. It is a reality for most of us parents that our children will leave. And, for many of us, they will wander far away. I have friends with kids in other countries or halfway around the world, so a transcontinental flight doesn't feel quite as bad. I am not the first nor the last parent who now sees their adult kids just a few times per year. Frankly, I know plenty of parents who rarely see their nearby kids because their children have busy lives, and it is hard to find the time. Nonetheless, that initial blow, reminiscent of the anguish of dropping your kid off at college, stings. It is a reminder that the days are passing, we are getting older, a new generation is coming in, and we are being phased out. While I still have acute memories of being a new parent and managing through all the excitement and stress that comes with it, I recognize that my own children are closer to being new parents than I am to that former version of me.

Let's face it: Our kids growing up means we grow older. While I believe I still have many more years of meaningful work ahead of me and do not anticipate leaving this world anytime in the near or not-so-near future, like the ticks of inches on a doorframe, this is another reminder that our kids grow up fast, life is short, and if we blink our eyes, another decade will have passed by.

What Comes Next

Despite my angst and sadness about my son embarking on this journey, I love that he is now part of my adult world. It is thrilling to have meaningful conversations about life and work and to engage with him professionally. Our relationship is taking on a new form of not just parent but mentor and confidante in ways that were impossible even just a few years ago. For all of that, I am grateful. Ultimately, I cannot sugarcoat the reality of letting go and watching him move on to this next phase. Alongside all my excitement for him lies all my discomfort and sadness that he will be far away. It's as if that little hand that sat tightly in mine is now pulling away, and he is running far into the distance. I know he will do amazing things, and our future as mother and son will be marked with significant memories and milestones. Yet, I must let go. I must step back and support him in his life. I have to make space for his journey. Someone shared with me recently that our children are our entire world, and we are just a small piece of theirs. I am watching that play out in real-time.

While the physical distance between me and my son feels vast, I know our emotional bond is strong. The space he's carved out in the world is an extension of the nurturing home his father and I provided. Of course, motherhood isn't ending for me. It is evolving. This is a fresh opportunity for me to adapt and grow, just like I had to do when he came into the world. It is exciting to think about what lies in store for him and for me, and a great reminder that being a mom is a legacy you carry with you through every season of your life.