He’s Your Baby, That’s Why. Empty Nester Scaries.

Our favorite mom-son date night spot. Stock Hill for Waygu Burger Wednesday.

“He’s your baby, that’s why”, he said. So simply put, he said what I knew but had not yet said out loud. My husband’s short sentence dumped the bucket of tears that had been sitting on my heart but only had been quietly spilling over inside. I was feeling overwhelmed with scheduling, spring always brings more activities, birthdays and end of school year events for my boys. Of course my own work is always there too. 

“He’s your baby”. My 18 year old youngest son is graduating in less than six weeks. His graduation cards and party invites sit on my table awaiting my addressing them. His handsome smiling face peeking out of that box, looking at me every time I walk by. A reminder of this long awaited milestone. 

I fall into the tears that can’t stop, the heaving ones, the snot a kleenex can’t keep up with and the hoarse voice. The only words I could get out while I was heaving were, “I am not ready”. This is not my first time feeling these really big feelings, but being my youngest, it hits in a different way. It's heavier on my heart. I can feel it like a 30lb kettle bell hanging on my heart and sitting in my stomach.

I’m spinning in thoughts that scare me and recognize that I am pre-grieving. Certainly something I did with my older ones as well. All of their senior years of high school, it was surprising and unexpected moments of grief that sporadically occurred. ‘Grief happens in pieces’ a best girl friend of mine, Jess, said to me nearly 18 years ago, and that has proven to be true on many occasions. 

He’s here and comes and goes with his busy school, work and social life yet his presence in our home is steady. Evidence of him here each day helps me feel calm and happy. His car pulling up the beep beep of his alarm, his strut into the house and the immediate saunter to me for a hug and always a kiss. The kiss before he leaves the house each and every time. “Mom, I’m hungry, can you make me…” The immediate joy that brings me cooking for him. We joke that someday he’s going to need to cook for himself. “I know mom, I’m just taking advantage of it while I’m here, I’m no fool”. He’s right. I enjoy doing it. 

For 24 years, my primary role in life has been raising my three sons. One that also organically opened the door for my career. I knew as a little girl and always dreamed of being a mother and their ‘first teacher” they say. I was lucky enough to be the parent who stayed home for 10 years and then returned to work once they were all in full-time school. Now what? I have a career, one I love. But what? As the others ventured, he was still here. Now the last of my babes is off. The bigness of this transition is clear. One aligning also to my 50th birthday. Whoosh. Two at once. Oh and another graduating college. All wrapped into less than 12 months. Booooosh. 

My sobbing allowed another sentence to get through. “How do people do this?’ How do we move into a new chapter? It feels sudden right now at this moment. My intellect and reason are not functioning right now; only my feelings. I know people get through, and often without guidance. Seems there is much more guidance around young parenthood than transitioning to the quiet home without children. I can only imagine the quiet will be loud to my own heart’s ears. Without the children coming and going and the happily open revolving door with their friends, who I also consider my adopted sons. How will that be not having that? For me, raising my children has been the strong reason for my being on this earth, my purpose, my greatest accomplishment. I understand I am nowhere near being “done” parenting. We never are. But the change is monumental. And this idea, this unknown, is scary and overwhelming me tonight.  

Through these sobs I keep thinking of this quiet on repeat. Less kisses each day. Not setting my eyes on him every day. When he bends way down for the long hug (at 6’3”) that will be infrequent. His hugs are long and he always holds on for longer than you expect, and boy I treasure that.

Funny, I just remembered this is not the first time I have said “I am not ready”. On what we didn’t know would be his last football game in the Fall, this hit me as well. The game was so exciting. The build up of being in the playoffs for the team! These games are immediate elimination, so high stakes through the game! As the 4th quarter neared the final minutes, it became obvious they would not move on, And that last 2 minutes it suddenly hit me. I went from so much excitement to instant grief. My mom noticed and asked how I was. I looked over at her and tears streamed down my face and I uttered the very same words, “I am not ready”. I looked over to him on the field through my blurry tearful eyes and I saw his head hanging low and pacing the field. That broke me even more; he was feeling it too. 

The game ended. I grabbed my things and pushed through the crowds. I passed the gated fence (against the rules but I didn’t give one shit), dropped all of my things on the turf. Leaving those far behind, I ran to him, searching to find his ginger curly hair standing taller above the others. I found him. Called out and he turned around, sunken shoulders and we fell into each other’s hug. We both sobbed and rocked back and forth in each other’s arms. Time seemed to stop and I soaked that memory in and relished it. 

It’s a strange thing to feel so proud and happy for their achievements while simultaneously feeling grief. Many firsts are in his future, ones we will of course celebrate. Is this a very selfish grief, one that is about me, not him…but I must believe it is a natural grief that isn’t truly selfish.. 

Our children’s lives are full of so many chapters, milestones, hurdles, memories and anytime you look back, we cherish what was. We recognize that time will not return, and while it lives in our memory forever, it is hard to sit with the fact those moments are now a memory.

I don’t know what to do. I’m guessing there is nothing to do but continue our days. Send out the invites (they may have tear drops on the envelopes) , organize the party, go to his senior day, and his joyful graduation day of course (sunglasses are a must, even if inside…it helps hide the swollen sobbing eyes). Move through the days as usual and expect the feels and sobs to come at unexpected times. 

Next up for summer-time is prepping for the move to college. That is so fun. Planning the dorm room. Move in day, organizing and getting them settled is busy and helps occupy your heart and brain. And while they may be nervous, mine hide it and still have the natural excitement! The goodbye tho, ooooof that hug never needs to end, and their shirt my tears soak. The drive home…have a kleenex box and be ready for just tears all the way home.

When the boys were little, I used to romanticize the empty-nester-life. In those early days, the constant wakeful nights, chasing active toddlers, never-ending homework help, school activities that required our driving, play dates, big emotions of small kids, tantrums and hurt feelings….empty nesting sounded so lovely, like a respite. You can go on a date anytime without a sitter or any notice! You can have a clean kitchen, no one ate your food you planned for lunch, no dirty dishes on the counter from midnight’s 5th dinner, pizza boxes from the group of boys who stayed over, no sweet sleeping teenager faces on the couch or floor; having just found any place to sleep after the 3am partying. Empty-nesting sounded so peaceful. 

Now it sounds too quiet. Lonely. I now understand when people say quiet can be deafening. I can imagine that now. I have no doubt I will get through this. Each boys’ advancement in their adult life is a great joy I feel for them. There are countless of those coming. Even, fingers crossed, their own future children I will devour with kisses and quality time is very exciting to think about. Wow, realizing those tears will again spill over my face when I see my own sons become fathers and watch them parent and be loving partners.

And there you have it. All the feels of tonight poured into this page and I feel a bit lighter. I am a lucky woman to have been through all of this and have so much more to look forward to. They are truly beautiful young men, who love deeply, are kind with big hearts. And that lasts forever.