No one tells you. No one tells you when you want to get pregnant and have a sweet little baby that one day, that little baby you hoped and dreamed for will grow up and leave you. Well, not leave you but grow up and move out for sure. I’ve come to this time in my season of life as a mom and it is absolutely gut wrenching. The pain of this unraveling process is so intense I can only allow myself to feel it for moments at a time. That’s how incredibly painful it is. And I’m not ready. Not. At. All. But here it is and I have no choice but to acquiesce and let him go.
I do believe it is the natural order of things for him to leave. He’s so ready. And I see it, as his mom. I know he will be fine. I know he will be more than fine. He will do amazing! He has everything it takes to go out there and be successful and live his best life. I have no doubt he will. And I will be cheering him on all of the way. My lack of confidence regarding this massive transition in life is in me, not him. Will I be okay?
According to Josh, no, I won’t be okay. I’m not going to lie, this terrifies me because he’s not wrong. This is going to be incredibly difficult. Mom is the absolute best title I’ve ever held and I will be eternally grateful God made me his mom. This has been the single greatest blessing of my entire life. Raising my son has given me more fulfillment and purpose than any other title or station in life that I’ve held. Being a mom has brought me more joy than I ever dreamed possible. And now this occupation of being a full time mom is coming to a swift end. I am beside myself and asking myself, now what?
Life is a journey; it begins with your first breath and ends with your last. There is no destination. It’s all about the journey. The journey can be long and arduous. Life isn’t always easy. But it’s in the journey that we grow and develop and hopefully transform into the people we were created to be. This unraveling process is part of my journey. So I must embrace it. But how? That’s the big question I’m really struggling with.
As moms, we willingly give up ourselves for our children. We put them first and never give it a second thought. No one asks us to do this; we just do it. It’s part of our maternal DNA. It’s that way by design. The problem is that we lose ourselves somewhere along the way, bits and pieces of our identity, whilst sacrificing our wants for our children. We aren’t cognizant of it, but nonetheless, it happens. Our priority is the children and raising them and giving them a great childhood. Our own wants and needs take a back seat to our children’s and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
When it’s time for them to fly the coop, we can start to feel a bit of an identity crisis. Who am I now? How will I fill my time? What’s next for me? How will I find purpose again? What do I want out of life now? These are all valid questions and concerns and it’s extremely overwhelming trying to process and figure it all out. I mostly feel lost and confused. These questions swirl around in my brain and cause a paralyzing effect that prevents me from moving forward with my life. But, now I have no choice because that empty nest syndrome will be hitting me like a ton of bricks in a few short days when I wake up for the first time and realize he’s no longer living here. God be with me because that is going to be an extremely hard day.
In the midst of all the sorrow and reminiscing about the past, I’m trying to cling to this idea that my third act will be my best one yet. The time has come for me to rise up and take back control of my own life. It’s time for this momma bear to find her identity again. It’s time to start plotting my third act so that I can enjoy the empty nest years and live a full life again. It’s time for me to realize life isn’t over; it’s all about charting a new path.
This is the part of the unraveling process I’m excited about and can cling to in those moments of utter sorrow. All I have ever wanted to do is to help people and to make a difference in this world. I am now in a position to volunteer again. God is opening doors and making a way. I’m excited about the possibilities ahead of me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt that way.
I know it’s up to me to be accountable to myself for where I am in life, where I am headed, and where I want to ultimately go as a human being. I’ve been taking a long, hard look in the mirror and recognizing there are a lot of changes I want to make in my life so I can become the person I want to be. All this is lovely and refreshing, but it’s also incredibly challenging and gut wrenching. It can be painful to look at yourself without blinders on and see who you really are. But in that process, I am also learning to give myself grace. Thankful there are some nuggets of hope or God winks along the way to keep my head above water. And as a young man told me not too long ago, grace abounds. Grace abounds. Thank you Jesus!
How do we muster up the courage needed to continue on this journey of letting go of our beloved children, and embarking on a new journey of self discovery? We succumb to the process of unraveling. We stop getting in our own way and believe in a power higher than ourselves. We trust God and the universe to care for our young adult kiddos and we take every precaution possible to guard our hearts and minds in the days and weeks ahead as the unraveling comes to its pinnacle. We build a life again, a new one. A life where we learn to love ourselves wholeheartedly and find our self esteem again. We choose to be courageous as always and to find a way to carve out a new path for ourselves. We make it happen because we are moms and that is what we do.
I have to learn to be kind to myself as I go through this massive life change. Although I do believe this is how it is meant to be, it doesn’t change the fact that it feels like someone has ripped my heart out of my chest and left a gaping hole where it used to live. I’m trying to feel my feelings as they come up in hopes they won’t be as overwhelming when we drop him off at college in a few days. But who am I kidding? No one! It’s going to hurt in a way I’ve never hurt before because the unraveling process is excruciating by design. It begs the question: how do I survive this level of pain?
I need to remember I will always be Josh’s mom. That’s a lifetime gig. Just cause he’s flying the coop doesn’t mean he doesn’t need me anymore. He will always need me; just in different ways. He’s moving on with his life, as he should. He’s setting off on a great adventure and the sense of pride I feel for all he’s already accomplished is just phenomenal. Unraveling sucks but watching your man-child chase his dreams, that’s the best feeling in the entire world. I will cling to that with my entire being and know that life will go on beyond the great unraveling.
Made For More 