Empty Nesting

Nesting: 22 years ago I was building a nest—not sure exactly what I was preparing for, yet instinctively there was a desire to get ready. An urge to tidy up, a place for everything and everything in its place. Reflecting, it would have been beneficial to read a couple more books on parenting, CPR and first aid, or consult with the best parents I knew. You truly only know what you know and give it your best shot. And the friends that surround you, who don’t have children, maintain their cool and wish you luck; while the friends with children sit back with a gentle smile, knowing what is about to unfold.

Shock and Awe: Stunned would be the best description of my husband as we left for the hospital that August morning. It was a facial expression I had never seen before from him. He was always full of confidence, and maybe a little arrogance, with everything he did and discussed. So a partnership with him at this moment, as we left to embark on our greatest adventure, was a little unsettling. Our delivery experience went well, with great staff and visits from family and friends—nothing out of the ordinary. And then there was the hour they let us take this tiny and fragile human home. Basically, the hospital staff had a baseline (oafish) checklist for parents: diaper changing, check—baby is eating, check—car seat installed correctly, check. Really? It seemed ridiculous that they would let us leave without some kind of cognitive behavioral exam, written and hands-on, to prove we had a clue of what we were doing. There is more of a screening process when you adopt a dog from the shelter. A friend mentioned that she had another dog at home, and they had to do a visitation first before they let her adopt the new dog. What the heck? How about this checklist: Ask the parents how they feel (terrified). Have they read any book beyond “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” (nope)? Does the other parent know more than you about a baby (nope!)? This is the reality check.

Growing: Obviously you realize things about yourself that you weren’t prepared for. You realize you can function, kind of, with a few hours of sleep. (Although it’s not as glamorous as your college years partying ’til 2 am and still looking youthful the next day.) You have a heightened awareness for another human, a spidey sense of knowing the difference between their tiny sounds and facial expressions. There were even times at night that I awoke to their silent steps down the hall to my room. You discover that your personal self-care is thrown to the wayside, and thankfully no one mentions it. And if someone does mention it—that snarky woman who calls you “Honey,” giving you tips to rid yourself of the bags under your eyes—you just might punch her in the face. You realize that every bit of clothing and every piece of furniture you own is somehow marked, stained, ruined or destroyed by their little hands. Most importantly, you realize that your parents were right. It’s amazing the awareness you develop through self-discovery—that no one can simply tell you what it is like to be a parent. It’s transformational, trying, challenging, incredible and unbelievable.

Un-nesting: 22 days from now we will be driving our youngest to college and phasing-out of this role of “parents with children at home” to “empty-nesters.” Again, it’s as if all these empty-nester friends are sitting back with a gentle smile knowing what is about to unfold. And I think I am actually beginning to understand what the phrase means, at least to me. After all the years of wanting to move on to the next step of parenting, I want to stop time and not go forward. My mother mentioned many times over the years to enjoy the moment, that someday I will miss the toys all over the house, the Cheerios in the back car seat, and even driving the kids all over town to practices and games. She was right. I’d go back to sleepless nights, to a wardrobe full of stained clothes, a messy car, and childish conversations. If I could have realized how important it is to live in the moment, to enjoy the milieu of our family life. Thank goodness for photos that bring back memories, that bring back feelings… I am thankful for every one of them. So, we are already in the process of un-nesting, it’s just not the physical act of moving the kids out that I thought it would be. It’s about coming to terms with the fact that this part of our lives is over. It’s kind of like mourning the family life we built and accepting our new life with kids who are building their own lives. This is a bit too much, I know. I’ve seen it in my friends’ expressions who are faced with the same realization. It is amazing how we continue to grow and change, even when we are adults, we are all still growing and changing.