The Truth About Empty Nest
September 2012
The truth is that no one can know for sure how the empty nest will show up for them, until, well, the nest is ‘empty’. I have found that it doesn’t even have to be empty in order for a deep sadness or mourning to occur, nor did it matter how deep of a relationship was had with that certain egg. The overwhelming feeling of loss appeared.
Maybe, the person who named it believed that deep loss only occurred when the last child left, not taking into account the emptiness that swelled well before the nest was truly bare. Perhaps it should be called ‘De-nesting’. As in, the undoing of nesting. The undoing of the days when you spent hours preparing for that baby to come; organizing, cleaning, de-cluttering.
The definition of nesting alone was enough to make me cry: an assemblage of things lying close together, that fit within each other; All of your most precious things, fitting within each other, in just their own way. The definition also would explain why it is experienced as such a loss, regardless of whether or not there are still eggs remaining. Perhaps, the 'empty' part doesn't describe the nest at all, but instead, the feeling one is left with.
The college search began with a rush of exciting emotions, leading into the stress of testing, college applications, the worry of rejection letters and then finally to decision time. It seemed to be an never-ending process, yet suddenly, without warning, it ended, catching me right in the throat.
Cornell. My first born, and sweet (not so little) baby, accepted by Cornell. What a validation of all that he had worked for. What a true blessing as his parent to have known and loved him and watched him sprout into an unbelievable human being.
The world awaited him now, as I did on that snowy February morning 18 years ago. It was time. Time for me to move aside. But how? I had watched others gracefully do this, but how was I going to do it? I didn't need moving day to confirm how this was going to be. I could feel the emptiness long before that day approached. That burning in my heart. The churning of my insides. That constant wondering how my life would look without him to wake up to? It seemed weird that I was in a panic. Surely after surviving a divorce I knew how to awake without him in the house. But this was so different. So much more real.
He grew from just a concept in my head, into a child that needed me, and then into a human being that I had come to depend on. For his humor, his laughter, his lightness, his optimistic approach to life, his 'yes' mentality. And in the moment he held me on that last day of my life as his 'mommy', I knew I would not be able to explain to anyone quite how lonely this felt.
The final cutting of the embilical chord...I held him in my arms, surrounded by his roommates' family and did what I could to not crumble.
"You did great mom," he said, "you almost made it without crying."
Tears streamed down my face as I backed a little away, just far enough to see his perfect face. I held his cheeks gently in my two hands, remembering the day I was able to hold his whole body tightly in my arms. I tried to memorize his eyes, his smell, his sweet voice always able to find a positive spin on life.
Please god...let me be okay. Let me pull away and still be standing on my own two feet. Please...don't let my baby think I can't do this. No matter what awaits me, don't let him see me fall to my knees. Give me the strength I need...
Perhaps my prayers were answered, or not, but I did make it out of the room. I looked into my ex's eyes for support. For some sign that I was going to make it. "How is this possible?" I asked. "The last time you and I were in a dorm, we were at school ourselves...and now we are leaving our baby here." I could not get a grip on what was happening. No sense could be made of this college day event. The cutting of the final emblical chord. Someone should have prepared me better. There should have been some counseling leading up to this. Then maybe I would have known what to do.
My heart physically hurt. Not shooting pains from my arm to my heart as in a heart attack, but an ache deep within my soul. My heart pounded, my breathing became labored and my chest rose over and over again as I dragged my empty, but very heavy suitcase to my car. How could something so empty, be so heavy? Each step forward, pulling me further away from Shane. I looked up again desperately to my ex in fear, "I just don't think I can leave him..." I said with almost inaudible words.
"He will be just fine. More than fine," he reassured.
And so I kept moving. The air thickening and making me feel sick. I began to sob even more, trying not to notice the people staring, until finally, I reached my car and hoped to find relief in being alone. Alone with my tears, pain, and lack of air. Alone. So desperately alone and ill-prepared for his childhood to be over. But ready or not, it was here and time...to head back to my empty nest, or at least, the nest that would not be as neatly nestled as it was before.
The flood of sadness poured out on me the entire way home, but I made a choice to not cry myself to sleep. Instead, in my bed that night, I prayed. I prayed for his happiness, his safety, and a brand new day that would offer me hope and inspiration in the empty space that I now had...a new perspective on how to live this same life, with a new pair of shoes on.
