I took my three college-aged daughters and my dog to see my mom this weekend. It’s about a 5+ hour drive to her small Ohio town, so we spent the time listening to Noah Kahan, eating snacks, and chatting about upcoming move-ins at their three respective colleges.
Yes, I am entering drop-off season, the hardest time of the year for me.
This is not my first rodeo. In fact, this will be drop-off #9, #10, and #11 for me. But it also doesn’t get any easier.
Two of my young adult daughters arrived at my house in tornado-like fashion back in May, with a third coming home each weekend because she was a research intern at our state university.
Our summer has been full of trying out local coffee houses, concerts, shopping, travel, beaches, sporting events, ice cream, hiking, and so much more. My heart over-floweth.
But it has also been full of doctor appointments, finding therapists, arguments about cars and who should walk the dog, bills, following through on promises, discussing plans for the future, accountability for mistakes, accountability for one’s actions, accountability for dishes, laundry, and spending. My brain is tired.
And as July ticked by so quickly into August, so much of our time now is dedicated to getting ready for them to leave with the same gale force in which they arrived.
As I sat at my mom’s kitchen table with my three daughters, the same one I sat at when I was a teenager, I felt overwhelmed. While I tried to help secure some information for a home project for my mom, one daughter came up to see if she could buy a new comforter off of Amazon, while another wanted to show me something on her tuition bill, and another asked me to proofread her resume.
We started discussing getting oil changes before heading back to school, how would we get all my daughter’s stuff back on the plane, moving furniture into a new house, a problem with an insurance waiver, setting up Wi-Fi, scheduling haircuts and dentist appointments, purchasing new kitchen knives, when grad school applications were due, hotel rooms for family weekend, and on and on.
My sweet mom laughed and said, “Well, now I know why you said you were falling behind with your writing!”
And I yearned for some peace and quiet in August while I knew how desperately I’d miss them in September. In fact, as they became more excited about their new houses and apartments, seeing their friends, and getting back to their old life, the pangs started already.
I am starting to feel the Momancholy.
When I dropped my third daughter off at college last year, it occurred without much fanfare. It was her junior year, and along with her twin sister, they had acclimated fine and were ready to return.
We dropped my youngest off two weeks prior to that. It was her sophomore year, and she knew the drill. We spent only a few hours setting her up, and we could tell how eager she was to meet up with her friends. She promised to eat well, be safe, do her homework, and call home. I'm not sure if I can ask for more than that.
Of course, there were some tears when we said our goodbyes—mostly mine, but also a few of theirs. But I left each of them with a smile on their faces and excitement in their hearts, and I don’t think a parent can ask for anything more.
As we did our last drop-off, my husband held my hand as I looked out the window while we cruised down the highway for the drive back home.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sniffing a little bit.
“I am. Well, I will be. It’s just harder than I thought. I mean, I know exactly what to expect, yet it still feels like a sucker punch every single time I say goodbye.”
The next few days, I felt a little numb. The adrenaline of the trips had worn off, and I was struggling to get back into my routine. I wasn’t sitting around crying (although I did a few times), but I wasn’t back to feeling like myself yet, either.
What was wrong with me? I was not a rookie, yet I couldn’t shake this feeling.
I just felt off.
During the next few days post-drop off, many kind-hearted people texted and messaged to check in on me. When you have multiple drop-offs backize -to-back in multiple states, many parents recognize that it can be tough.
But there were so many people reaching out that I started wondering if I was being a little dramatic with how hard the process felt and how I was reacting. After all, thousands of parents do this each year, so why did this feel so hard to me?
And I was doing okay, maybe even better than I thought, considering I'm a full-fledged empty nester now.
I hadn’t cried as much. but I felt physically exhausted, mentally drained, and emotionally spent. When I mentioned that to a friend, she responded, “Of course you feel that way. It’s called grief. I feel it every time I leave my kids somewhere new.”
But grief feels too heavy a word to use for this situation, one where I am also feeling pride and joy, and hope. I was thrilled that my daughters were adjusting so well and a little guilty that I was so sad they were gone. I was excited to plan visits and loved the photos they often sent me. I worried, but also felt like I had prepared them well.
I was just a ball of emotions.
As I discussed these feelings with others, someone told me they knew exactly what I was experiencing. It was called "momancholy."
And I can’t stop thinking that’s exactly how I feel.
Momancholy, like its derivative word melancholy, is a depression of spirits, feeling pensive for what was, an abnormal state of sadness for things past.
My life has been a whirlwind these last 21 years. They have been so full of baking and buying and attending and watching and rushing and playing and fixing and consoling and loving.
It all went so fast, and then one day, you’re standing in your kitchen, alone, with no one to feed, no messes to clean, no bodies to hug.
And even now, sitting in my house with my three young adult kids in it, I know things are different. Even though they sometimes overwhelm me, they need me less and less. Most of the time, it’s simply to get a second opinion, approval to purchase something they need, or let me know their plan.
I feel the momancholy creeping in, just like I know it does for my mom every time I leave her.
I am sad for what was and incredibly grateful to have been a part of it.
It's grief and gratitude, joy and heartbreak, love and sorrow.
I know I’m not any different. It’s the life of every parent.
It’s momancholy.
So, to answer everyone's question, how am I doing sending my babies out into this world?
The answer is simple: I am just trying to find my way in a life that is so different than it was just a few days ago.
I’m taking up hobbies to fill my time, like mahjong and book clubs and volunteering at a food bank. I’m planning trips to see them and celebrate achievements and special occasions and family weekends. I’m letting myself feel all the feels, knowing none of them are wrong. It is okay to feel two conflicting emotions at once as long as you know that these are signals of how you feel and not definitions of what is happening.
I’m giving myself loads of grace because I know transitions are hard, and each drop-off comes with new challenges.
Because it is exhausting. And it is draining. And I am spent. And I'm thrilled for my children who are finding their place and standing on their own. And I love to watch them becoming.
To quote another mom who's been there: "It’s not quite grief. But it’s not nothing either."
It’s momancholy.
And if you’re experiencing it too, I’m sending you a huge hug. According to my 84-year-old Mom, you learn to deal with it, but it doesn’t get easier.
Love hard. I’m walking with you.
Whitney
What I’m Reading: I’m about a quarter of the way through Calamity Club and loving it so far, but it’s a long one, so it may take me a bit! I also started listening to This Book Made Me Think of You today, and I walked an extra loop because I was enjoying it so much. The reviews on this one are so good, so I’m also going to recommend this even though I’m just about to start chapter 5.
What I’m Watching: Watched most of season 2 of The Last Thing He Told Me with Jennifer Garner. I think I enjoyed season 1 a bit better, but I will support Jennifer Garner in whatever way I can because I think she’s awesome.
What I’m Anticipating: Season 4 of Ted Lasso on August 5th! Cannot wait!
P.S. We took a jaunt through Amish country when I was at my mom’s house, and landed in Sugar Creek, OH (also known as Swiss Valley), where there is the world’s largest cuckoo clock. It’s a sight to behold and is in the Guinness Book of World Records. I can now check that off my bucket list! :)
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.