Who Am I Now? Navigating Identity After Emptying Your Nest

Do you remember when your child was two (or maybe a teenager) and you dreamed about the day they would be able to take care of themselves and move out of your house? I vividly remember listening to two friends lament their last children heading to college and thinking that I could not wait for that day. My son was two at the time and I was yearning for a life of my own, a life that did not revolve around naps, meals and snacks, and play dates. A great deal changed over the next 16 years. I found that I actually liked my son. I liked talking with him, hearing his opinions. He was quick-witted, smart, and easy to be around. By the time he was ready to head to a college that was a three hour flight away or a 20-plus hour drive, I was beside myself with anxiety and sadness. What would I do with myself now that I no longer had his schedule around which to plan my life? Who would I be if not his live-in, 24/7/365 mother? What would my relationship be with my husband now that it was just the two of us again? The empty nest stage of my life had arrived and I was completely unprepared.

Empty nesting is not just a common cultural phrase that parents begin to throw around when their children are teens. Family development theories suggest that empty nesting is the sixth and final stage of the family life cycle. This stage occurs as families transition from parents and children living at home together to the children becoming emerging adults and setting out on their own to live independently and support themselves. Once parents launch their last child, they are considered to have an empty nest. As a result of this empty nest, some people experience negative emotions, feeling a role loss. Others find this to be a time of “role strain relief” leading to newfound independence, discovery, and peace.

For me, it was a mix of both. I was fortunate to have had a therapist during that time who had been through the empty nesting phase herself and was able to help me anticipate it. She encouraged me to define my hobbies and interests and to begin to build a life of my own prior to my son launching into the world. I enrolled in graduate school, which made the adjustment much smoother for the first couple of years. I made new friends, focused on studying and writing papers, and focused on helping others in my practicum and internship. I took up weekly piano lessons. I recommitted to my self-care, creating a plan for regular exercise, meditation, and time spent with friends. And yet, three plus years into being an empty nester, I continue to have moments in which I feel the deep loss of motherhood as I once knew it. I drive by my son’s high school and feel a pang of sadness. I walk through the store we used to go to for after-school snacks and wish I had appreciated that time more. I’m not sure those feelings will ever go away entirely. At the same time, with more thought, I recognize that I also do not want to return to those days. I am enjoying my newfound independence. I like the woman I have become and am becoming as a result of motherhood. My son and I are each where we are meant to be.