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It’s been a week and I’ve got some feelings to unpack and I there are a lot of moms who will completely understand me, and for those that don’t, it’s okay to sit this one out.

 

On Monday, I watched my daughter pack up her little family to head back to Virginia at the exact same time we were packing up our son to move him into his dorm in Pennsylvania. One of these things would be heavy on a mama’s heart, but two of them happening at the same time….HEART BREAKING.

 

How in the world do we have the capacity to feel such overwhelming feelings at one time? I mean, seriously, women really are magical and slightly unhinged for being able to carry so many emotions at once. Feeling what I can only describe as grief while also being full of pride and happiness for them is A LOT. It’s that two things can be true at the same time thing, and I’m already tired of hearing myself say it.

 

Apparently, I’m so tired of all of it that I actually gave myself chest pains that caused so much concern I went to the doctor because I thought I was dying. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but I did go because I genuinely had myself convinced that I was having heart issues. Turns out, I was having heart issues, but not the kind that has to do with my heart functioning properly. It was just me being having a full meltdown over having to say “good luck with your new chapter” to both of my kids at pretty much the same time. Honestly, how does one do this? How do you spend your whole life loving and caring for your kids and then just cold turkey have to let them go into this wild world of ours?

 

It’s weird place to be. I know I’ll get through it because there are lot of women before me survived this part of motherhood. I just can’t figure out how to get through it from where I’m standing right now. Maybe it’s the little by little. You know, the waking up each day, putting one foot in front of the other, tackling the smaller to-do-list, actually focusing on work or things that I put on the back burner for two decades.

 

This phase feels exhausting, which is weird because what am I exhausted from? The kids are gone. I have more time to do the things I actually want, and so much less to worry about day to day because they are out there fending for themselves, but maybe that’s part of the problem. I’m not there to see with my own eyes what I should or shouldn’t be worrying about. I have no idea if they need me because I can’t see their faces or pick up on their energy shifts. So my mind is just making up its own weird scenarios instead.

 

Can we talk about the house for a second? Because the house is in on this too. The dishwasher only needs to run every three days now. I’m sorry, but what? The grocery bill got smaller, but that really doesn’t feel like a win right now. I spent twenty-three years needing five minutes of peace and quiet and now that I have it, I’d give almost anything to hear the kids fighting upstairs, or Alyssa’s door slamming, or Ethan screaming into the mic while he plays whatever game, or a cereal bowl in the sink. The five minutes of peace and quiet doesn’t feel as peaceful as I thought it would. In all honesty, the silence actually feels loud, and I was not prepared for that at all.

 

Oh! Can we also talk about all the moms who are posting the most perfect dorm rooms with “So proud! No tears here!” on their stories? Excuse me, ma’am. Why are you lying? Now, I know some of you are more than happy to see your kids go off to college and to have your peaceful home back, but I know there’s an overwhelming number of moms who are putting on a happy face, slapping up a cute story, and pretending their way through this. Part of me gets it. We’re supposed to be happy for our kids and we should NOT be stressing them out thinking that we are falling apart, but I also think a bit of honesty with damn near grown adults is probably more beneficial to their growth. Sure, mom is sad, but mom is going to be okay. Show the struggle and the victory. I don’t know, maybe that’s just unasked for logic. I really do think so of these happy posts are just hiding the mom sitting in her car in a Target parking lot, secretly falling apart with tears streaming down her face. If that’s you, just know It’s okay to feel this way and you don’t need to hide that here. This season is hard for a lot of us. I think this is what it looks like when it costs you a piece of yourself to raise people who don’t need you every day anymore. Unfortunately, this is what we have been preparing for. This is what our motherhood journey has been leading towards. We’ve been slowly, although it feels like it went by with sonic speed, getting our children to this period of self-sufficient almost adults and it is now time for life to take over for us.

 

Ladies, I’m starting to think there’s such a thing as suppressed grief exhaustion. It feels really weird for me to describe this as grief induced since I’ve always associated grief with death, but I mean, what else could it be? I’m thinking grief can come up during different stages in life without death involved, and it can be mixed with all kinds of other emotions. I think for the last year or so, I’ve been grieving who I was, or who I wanted to be before I became a mom at twenty-one. I had no clue who I wanted to be outside of a mother, but I know now that I probably should have put some more thought into that. I took motherhood so seriously that I don’t think I ever came up for air, which probably explains my unintended habit of taking deep breaths throughout the day lately. That example feels all over the place, and I’m not really sure what else gets mixed in with it, but I know something else does. I know how strange that sounds, but I bet a lot of women out there understand that thought without an additional explanation. I’m not going to pretend I’ve landed on some profound answer for who I am now. I don’t know yet, but I think that’s allowed. And if it’s not, oh well. I think it is perfectly acceptable for us to just sit in the not knowing for a little while instead of rushing to fill it with a new five-year plan or some new hobby. Ironic, considering I’m putting a decent amount of effort into this new account and podcast. Never mind that though.

 

I think I am currently living through another stage of grief, but this one is mixed with pride, happiness, and excitement. Again, we are magical when it comes to multitasking emotions. My kids are still here. They are happy and healthy and thriving and for that I am so genuinely happy. I know they love me, but they’re out there building their own lives now, and that brings more pride than I can accurately explain. I know they want me around, which feels like winning the lottery, but they no longer NEED me around, and that feels a little sad while also feeling like an enormous amount of pride in who they’ve already become. Even with all the excitement I feel watching them become who they are meant to be, in my head I’m screaming “STOP! How did we get here? Can we please go back for a little while?” Life with two of the most important people in my life has gone by way too fast. They say don’t blink and they weren’t exaggerating. When you’re in the thick of it, you can’t understand that thought because it feels like it’s taking forever, but I promise, it’s actually flying by.

 

What I would give for just five more minutes. Five more minutes with my daughter during one of her colic spells when she was a baby and only her mama could calm her down. Five more minutes with my little family the day my son was born because I finally felt like we were complete. Five more minutes during the day we started our tradition of making rice crispy treats and homemade hot chocolate during the first snow storm of the season. Five more minutes at one of our epic dance parties while we cooked dinner. Five more minutes with my son on one of our long drives to practice with the windows down, the music all the way up, and us singing our hearts out. Or even just five more minutes of the night before my daughter gave birth to her son when I was the lucky one who got to be there and witness her becoming a mama.

 

Just five more minutes.

 

They say people don’t miss things until they are gone, but I don’t think that was ever the case with me. I knew I’d miss them. I documented the hell out of my life. Just look at my camera roll – an ungodly amount of pictures and videos. Sometimes when I need just five more minutes, I go back to those.

 

But then I come back to reality, and I’m here in this state of pure exhaustion, except it’s not your typical exhaustion. It’s not the I want to sleep all the time kind. It’s more of I have no energy, but I’m also wired. It’s the constant thoughts of I wonder how they’re doing, or worse, the self-doubt about the job I’ve done raising them. There’s so much more, but even trying to thing of more examples for exhausting, and honestly, I have a feeling you’re all listening and coming up with even more examples of this type of exhaustion and don’t need anything else from me.

 

Here’s a small, stupid one though, because I can’t not mention it – not checking in. I have never in my life exercised so much self-discipline as I have in the last four days not opening our location app. Not texting first. Waiting to see if they’ll reach out on their own. It has become a full-time unpaid job, monitoring myself instead of monitoring them, and let me tell you…that is exhausting in its own way.

 

You know, we left campus Monday afternoon, and on the way home I started to space out. I think I’ve been doing my best to hold it together all summer, and on the way home it finally hit me. My husband looked over and very sweetly said “I’m proud of you,” and that’s literally all it took. The floodgates opened. What I’d been pushing down finally came overflowing out. In that moment, with just the two of us sitting there, I realized two huge things. First, we were going home to an empty and very quiet house. Second, we were now entering a phase of our marriage that we’ve been trying to prepare for.

 

The realization that I was going home to an empty and quiet house SLAMMED into me hard. I just kept thinking; home is not home without them. I know they aren’t ours to keep, but they do feel like extensions of ourselves. I don’t care what anyone says, I don’t care how bad they want to make me feel, I don’t even care if they think I’m some overbearing mom. My kids will forever be part of me and I will always feel that way. I’ve just entered unchartered territory, but just like every other stage of motherhood, I’ll figure this one out too. I’ll find my balance. I’ll find my new role. It’ll just take a little time, and even a little grieving period (because how else are we to get through things if we don’t give ourselves time to feel them?). The sting of opening my bedroom door each morning and seeing their empty beds is a hard start to my day, but I know that will get better. Going to down to a kitchen that’s still clean feels foreign right now, but I’m sure it’ll become something that feels normal. I mean, it’ll all get better…right?

 

Moving on to my marriage realization, I think I can speak for my husband when I say, we are each other’s best friend. We knew this day would come. We talked about it in therapy many years ago. This new phase of marriage can break couples because you finally have to face each other, and what if facing each other meant you no longer liked each other. That’s worth digging into another time, but for now, let me stick to this. We’ve spent the last twenty-three years of our almost thirty year relationship co-managing our home and family. About a decade ago we went through a very rough patch, one we both thought would end us, but we fought through anyway. During our therapy sessions, it came up that if we wanted to succeed in our marriage, we needed to be each other’s best friend. We were told if didn’t like each other, we’d never make it, and I think we took that very seriously. Neither one of us wanted to spend so much of our lives pretending for the kids’ sake only to get here and call it quits, so we worked at us and making sure that we actually liked each other which meant date nights whenever and wherever we could make them happen. It meant taking a real interest in what the other was doing. It meant actually care what the other was going through and being supportive. Here we are. The next phase has started and you know what? This phase of our marriage is probably the only thing not causing me grief or concern, because I know we’ve been preparing for this and realization was huge.

 

I know I’ve said a lot, so I’m going to start wrapping this up, but here’s the thing that I keep coming back to. While I am sitting here sad that I am closing this chapter with my kids, I’m also so excited that I have a front-row seat to a brand new chapter with not just my kids, but also their partners and my sweet and perfect grandson. Two things being true at the exact same time, in the exact same week. I guess that’s just my version of motherhood now. It really doesn’t stop leaving you with both hands completely full at once…ever.

 

So ladies, I just want you to know that this part is tough. It’s going to feel like your heart is being ripped out while also beating faster with the amount of pride you feel, and that’s all okay. It’s all normal, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

 

And if any of you stumbled upon this and you aren’t in this season yet, I have a few pieces of advice for you. First, slow it down as much as you can, love on those kids of yours, and soak it all in (even the stuff that drives you crazy). It’s going to go by way too fast. Second, prioritize your marriage because you are going to need your partner and the last thing you want is to be sitting across from someone you don’t like when your heart starts having its breakdown. Third, don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s going to suck, but give yourself some grace and some time to get through it. This isn’t a race we win overnight.