Life was simple when I was just Mommy 24/7; always needed and always wanted. No one tells you about the stillness that comes with an empty nest. The shift from being their world to finding your own is a transition no one prepares you for.
For years, my life revolved around homeschooling four kids, structuring our days with lessons, meals, and the endless chatter of growing minds. I knew their favorite snacks, their moods before they spoke, the exact way they liked their rooms decorate. I miss those times of surprising them with new beds and painted murals on their walls. There was comfort in the chaos, in the certainty of being their anchor.
Then, one by one; they left to carve out their own lives. Our last child left at 16 for Vermont Tech, and I had no idea of the flood of emotions that would come with no longer being in the role that had defined me for so long.
At first, I welcomed the stillness, thinking it would feel like a well-earned rest and vacation. But the silence was deafening. Mornings stretched out too long, meals felt unnecessary, and I found myself standing in doorways of empty rooms, expecting some version of yesterday to return.
Grief settled in; not the kind that comes with tragedy, but the subtle, aching loss of a chapter closing. I hadn’t just raised children; I had built a world around them, and now; I had to figure out who I was without that structure.
Rediscovering myself felt like learning a new language in a foreign land.
What do I like?
What do I do for fun?
Who am I when no one needs me?
I explored interests I had set aside: music, movement, & creativity. The time to myself allowed me to tap into passions that I’d forgotten and newfound love for projects I used to think were tedious. I even ventured into learning to play the ukulele and guitar, taking piano lessons, and challenging myself with more contemporary dance classes. I gave myself permission to feel the sadness but also to embrace the unknown.
I am still adjusting, still learning how to mother myself the way I once mothered them. But there is beauty in this shift, in the chance to redefine who I am outside of the title I wore for so long.
No one tells you about the quiet, the stillness; but maybe that’s because no one can prepare you for the way it asks you to listen to yourself, to your desires, to the woman who existed before she was “Mommy.”
My heartbeats…
