Michelle Medlock Adams will be writing for Guideposts.org about love laced with humor. Join Michelle for a dose of just what you need when you really need it.
I wear several hats in life, as I’m sure you do. I’m a full-time writer. I’m a full-time wife. And I’m a full-time mother of two daughters.
That’s a lot of full-time positions, no matter how you divide the time. But last year one of my full-time jobs changed drastically when my youngest daughter moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career in fashion. Yes, I am now part of that empty-nester group. If you haven’t yet arrived at that phase of life, let me warn you: It’s not for sissies.
As mothers, whether we realize it or not, we live for our children. In the beginning, it’s all about meeting their basic needs: feeding them, bathing them, rocking them to sleep, changing their poopy diapers and praying you can squeeze in a shower before nightfall. As our kiddos grow, we become their chauffeurs, their Scout leaders, their homework helpers, their room moms, their coaches, their loudest cheerleaders and so much more. When they reach high school, our roles change a bit as our children gain more independence, but we’re still the ones sitting in the bleachers or the auditorium cheering them on, or chaperoning their school dances (much to their embarrassment), or helping them fill out college applications, or hosting pizza parties for all of their friends. It’s what we do. It’s who we are.
It’s the most exhausting, aggravating, fulfilling job you’ll ever have, and it all goes by in a big blur of wonderfulness. And when the hustle and bustle of graduation is over and you’re helping them move into their college dorm rooms, reality sets in.
Your nest is empty forever.
I had that reality meltdown moment as we boarded the shuttle bound for LAX and left my 18-year-old, Ally, waving to us from the curb outside her student housing. I could see she was holding back tears but I wasn’t as brave. I blubbered the entire shuttle ride and most of the five-hour flight back to Indiana. It wasn’t that I was sad to be left alone with my husband, Jeff–I still really like him, even after 22 years of marriage–I just didn’t know who I was or what purpose I would serve without my girls.
Grabbing my hand on the flight, he whispered, “It’s going to be OK. You’ve done a great job with our girls. They’re ready.”
The problem was, I wasn’t ready! I wanted more time. I wanted more prom-dress shopping trips. I wanted more late-night movie marathons. I wanted more cheerleading competitions. I wanted more Powder Puff football. I wanted… more.
My favorite job–the one I’d loved for more than 20 years–was over. At least that’s what I thought when I returned to our house, empty except for the three cats and two dachshunds that greeted me as I put down my bag.
Just then, my cell phone vibrated. It was a text from Ally: “I miss you and Dad already. I know you’re sad, but don’t be, Mom. We’ll still see each other on breaks. I love you so much. You’ll always be my best friend.”
I wiped away the tears just in time to read another text coming through, from my college sophomore, Abby: “Hey Mom, can we Skype tonight? I need some face time with you.”
It was as if God was letting me know my Mom job wasn’t over. My girls still needed me, and they always would. I would forever be their Mom, and they would forever be my girls. As I finished texting back both daughters, Jeff rounded the corner.
“Wanna go to bed early and watch movies?” he asked, smiling at me with the same smile I’d fallen in love with back in high school.
“Sure,” I answered.
As I grabbed my bag and headed upstairs, it seemed my nest was empty, but my heart was full.
