Empty nesting: coping with change and finding yourself again

It was the beginning of a new school year, and my only child was entering Sixth Form. Despite being among the youngest in her year, she was mature in her outlook. I trusted she knew right from wrong and so I didn't worry about her being away from home at such a young age when she asked if she could board at school. I immediately said yes, thinking it would be excellent preparation for university in two years and I could see how much she wanted to be with her friends who were already boarding. At no point did I consider my own feelings about her leaving home at sixteen. When September arrived and we dropped her off (just twenty minutes from home), the car heaving with all her 'stuff' I felt excited for her, unaware of the emotional journey awaiting me.

When a sense of loss rears its head 

My husband and I immediately set off for Cornwall, taking advantage of newfound freedom from parental responsibilities. After unpacking, we took a short beach walk before returning to our rental. Settling into the quiet house, the silence and stillness were stark contrasts to the usual buzz of family life. There was no child running up and down the stairs, no shouts of, "What's for dinner, Mum? I'm hungry." It was then the reality gently nudged me, though the full force of our new life would hit later. It’s hard to explain exactly how I felt, other than I didn’t quite know what to do with myself those first few days we were away. I felt a profound sense of loss; this was the first time we had ever gone away without our daughter. I missed her chatter, her rolling eyes in response to something I had said or done. I missed her very presence – the thought of her simply being upstairs in a bedroom or watching TV, out of sight but still with us – and the silence was deafening.

Everything we did reminded me of her absence, triggering feelings of guilt and sadness. She occupied every waking thought, and I kept telling myself not to be so ridiculous and to imagine how much she must be enjoying her newfound independence. My husband and I had spent years talking about what it would be like to travel without the pressure of school holidays and all the parental commitments, yet here I was, feeling a loss so deep it caught me by surprise. Why had I never anticipated this would affect me in the way it now was? Reflecting now, I see it was because I had never fully considered the transition from full-time parenting to empty nesting would entail, emotionally or practically.

An empty nest and a home that’s feels like it's lost its heart

I got through the supposed holiday, and when I returned home, it hit me even harder. The house was as silent as it could possibly be. It felt empty, as though its very heart had been ripped out without her being there. Strangely, when I had known she would be home later in the day, I had enjoyed that silence. I appreciated the brief freedom of getting on with my day, knowing she would soon be home. There had even been times when I cursed having to rush back for pick-up time because I worked full-time and ran a business, constantly feeling pressed for time. Yet now, here I was with no ties, and I still wasn't happy. I couldn’t stand it. What was wrong with me? The sadness I felt during those first few months was indescribable. It was as though the life had been drained out of me. I didn't want to do anything or go anywhere; I just wanted her back home, where I could see her, feel her, smell her. I just wanted her, and no one else.

New beginnings, reconnecting and learning to accept our empty nest

From September until the New Year, my heart felt wounded and empty. My husband was hugely understanding as he could see I was struggling not having my daughter at home. I missed my motherly duties, feeding her, laundering for her, tidying her room, taking her to school and picking her up. The chatter when she came home, listening to the gossip from school and sharing my own thoughts with her. We always laughed so much, me being the brunt of most of the jokes, but I didn’t mind because it was done with a lot of love and affection. In my head I was asking myself what my purpose was because I just didn’t know. As the weeks went on, and I saw just how happy she was, I began to shift my mindset. I started to think about where I found myself and how I could connect with friends or meet new people, because what I realised was that I was missing being part of something. Being with other people and being able to talk and laugh is just so important for us all. 

I also began to think more deeply about this next stage of life and what I wanted. It’s hard but important to accept that we only have our children for a short time and then we have to send them off to live their own lives. I became completely absorbed in our family business and worked even longer hours, which really did take my mind off everything that was going on and gave me the time to adjust to this new way of life. By the start of the New Year, I had made the decision it was time to move on and start to live this next stage of my life with my husband. I also think the idea that Spring was on its way really helped – all that new beginning stuff really is a great metaphor for emotional renewal.

When loss comes knocking again but this time it's different

My daughter turns thirty this year, now living in Canada with her own husband. I felt another sense of loss when they moved across that very big ocean last August. After relocating from London to Derbyshire in the aftermath of Covid-19 and the national shift to flexible working, they had become central to our lives once again. Those years, with them living just ten minutes away, were among my happiest. I reconnected deeply with my daughter, witnessing firsthand the independent, accomplished woman she'd become. My pride was immense as I watched her confidently tackle life's challenges, reaching out when needed.

When she announced her husband had a fantastic career opportunity that would see them spend four years in Canada, we were absolutely thrilled. It was clear to see the excitement that filled them both. But this time, the sense of loss when they left was different; we had all adjusted our lives since that time my daughter first left home at sixteen and so it was something I had prepared myself for. The feelings I had before were still there, although not as fierce; I was better prepared. 

The importance of feeling the loss of children leaving home

I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't feel the way I did when my daughter first left us at sixteen because it's important that you do feel that immense sense of loss. It's natural and necessary. It’s akin to grieving, as the next chapter in both your life and theirs begins, a challenging transition for everyone involved.

My daughter struggled herself in her first few months at boarding school, but at no point did I rush to bring her home, even though that would have been the easiest path for us both. Instead, I encouraged her to embrace her new journey, reassuring her that we were always there for her, confident that once she settled, which she eventually did, she would have the most wonderful experience. Whenever I spoke to her, I always told her how deeply I missed and loved her, but it wasn't until later in her life that I shared with her the profound sadness I carried quietly for quite some time.

Learning to parent hands-off and embracing our next chapter

Our role as parents is to prepare our children for independence, empowering them to create their own paths. The shift from hands-on to hands-off parenting is inevitable. We must watch from the sidelines as they navigate life's ups and downs, knowing when to step back and trust their ability to overcome challenges independently.

So, when your fledglings fly the nest, allow yourself to grieve a little and fully feel your emotions. Trust that you'll move through it, eventually embracing your new chapter filled with opportunities and adventures. You’ll look back fondly on their growing years, filled with pride and joy at the remarkable adults they’ve become, understanding that while your parenting role evolves, your love and care remain constant. Even at a distance.