We just dropped our oldest off for freshman year of college. A day we have planned and planned for. The move-in could not have gone smoother. He is happy. His roommates are great. He is a student-athlete and his coach could not be nicer.
The athletic trainers, his resident advisor, his academic advisor all seem like a great fit. I am so happy for him. He did it. He set a goal and worked incredibly hard for it. He made it. These are all reminders that my brain is telling my heart.
My heart is not listening. I am so sad.
This is the last time I’ll see this version of my son
As we pulled away from campus, leaving him to start his next chapter, my heart was sick. That is the last time I will see that version him. A feeling I have felt so many times before. Being a parent means as excited you are for all the firsts; those firsts mean lasts.
There was the last time he no longer needed help walking, the last time I could physically pick him up and hold him, then last time he flew into living room to see if Santa came on Christmas morning. All those versions of him are gone. All I am left with are the memories and a phone filled with images to cling to. We all know, parents cannot stop it and we cannot go back.
Everyone is trying to help but I’m not ready to hear that I’ll be okay
My sadness comes in waves. God Bless everyone, I know they are trying to help, but I am not ready to hear it. The redundant sentiments ringing in my ears and swirling in my head.
“You did your job”
“He is going to soar”
“It gets easier”
“Time for him to fly”
“They have to leave the nest sometime”
And the worst, “Next year you guys will be empty nesters.”
I realize how self-involved this probably sounds. We have friends who have lost their children and would give anything for a college drop off. I do understand how lucky we are. This is a blessing. I get that. Please hear me when I say that. Mother’s love and leaving her child anywhere does not have to make sense.
We are their biggest fans. We are their soft place to land. We know that the sting of the snappy mouth is just hidden fear. We know if the situation calls for a popsicle, a Band-Aid, or the ER. We know every inch of their lives. Most of all, we know that no one will ever love them like we do.
Raising my kids feels like a novel I do not want to put down
Raising kids feels like a novel we do not want to put down. Putting it down means that have reached the last chapter of his childhood. They are adults.
This will be a new time of navigating and problem solving for my son. He will learn to trouble shoot and maneuver the things life throws at him. Simply put, he will have to figure things out,
But… my heart is broken. I love being his mother. I have loved mothering him and his brother. I have dedicated my life to being their mom. It is my greatest gift. The best and hardest job I have ever had.
I am not ready to pass his empty room
I love being the one he comes to when things go wrong or when something needs fixing. I enjoy having his favorite meal in the oven when he gets home from practice. I am not ready to stop washing his stinky socks and jerseys. Most of all, I don’t want to pass his empty room when we get home.
I am sorry. I am not ready. I want more time.
My heart cannot digest all the typical platitudes being spoon fed to me about how I should feel a certain way. I want to be left to stew in my feelings no matter how ridiculous people think I am being. Is that wrong?
College drop-off is the best and worst experience ever.
No matter how I prepared my brain to regulate and prepare my emotions and feelings, my heart had other plans.
Plans to obsess if I did everything I could to prepare him. Plans to pray and beg God to protect him every single second. Plans to freak out that I do this all over again next year with my youngest son.
We will settle into a routine. I know that. I will adjust to my new role as a college mom. There are good times ahead. The comforting sentiments aren’t wrong. I am the same as every other parent who has done this before me. I know the cliché well wishes are true. He will find ways to soar and thrive. It is an exciting new chapter. We did our job.
But tonight…
I am not ready.
I am not fine.
I need everyone in my life to be ok with that.
More Great Reading
6 Reasons Moms Cry at Drop-Off But 6 Reasons They Can Take Heart
