“We are Empty Nesters”

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

I was excited to be a mother. I had read the “What to Expect” books concerning both pregnancy and the first year. I researched baby items, carefully selecting the right furniture for our nursery. My brother-in-law painted our room a sunny yellow, with a blue ceiling. My Aunt Brenda followed up by faux painting the ceiling with streaks of purple, yellow and pink, making the nursery look like a Venetian sky. I had clothes washed and ready for the baby’s impending arrival. I felt prepared. I put my hand on my stomach often, talking to the baby in soft tones, telling him how excited I was for his arrival.

But then, I was past my due date, uncomfortable and unable to sleep. By the time my son was born, and they laid him on my chest, I didn’t have the instant warm feeling of maternal bonding flooding my heart. I was exhausted and in a bit of shock from the whole ordeal of childbirth. That maternal instinct kicked in the next morning, when I held my son in my arms, marveling at his features and God’s goodness. Fourteen months later, my daughter was born in a whirlwind of activity. Again, the maternal hormones didn’t kick in immediately. They flooded my heart later that night when I was alone with my blue-eyed daughter, again aware of God’s goodness.

I kept those thoughts to myself for years, feeling ashamed of my perceived lack.  I thought there was something wrong with me. But then I began to hear of other women struggling with the same feelings. A woman’s body is dealing with major hormonal fluctuations before, during, and after birth. It’s quite common for women to not feel initially present or bonded with their baby. And for some, this lack of bonding takes on the form of something more serious, postpartum depression, which may need the help of professionals. So, I shared my story with others to help remove some of the stigma.

Twenty-four years later, “We are empty nesters!” became my mantra accompanied by a little jig for the first six months after Maggie got married. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss my daughter, I did.  But for the first time in 24 years, Terry and I were living alone, responsible only for ourselves. This change coincided with the time I was no longer doing childcare in my home on a regular basis. It was a new way of living, and I was looking forward to the adventure!

Recently, I read a comment string about the most important things you would want to tell someone about entering the empty nest stage. As I read the comments, I was surprised to see how sad and depressed a lot of women felt. Once again, I started to feel like I lacked some maternal instincts, not having the same experience that they did. But I stopped that train of thought immediately! I can love my adult children well, miss them, and still enjoy the empty nest stage. And I am sure I am not the only one who feels this way. What could I add to this conversation about my first year of experience as an empty nester?

• It’s hard to cook for two people. For twenty years, I have been cooking for at least four people. Now, I only need to make two chicken thighs, not six. I need two servings of pasta, not the whole box. And as much as I love soup, I don’t want it for five days in a row. Additionally, I find myself wanting to cook more ethnic dishes. Trying to balance this with Terry’s favorite dishes is hard. But I am up for the challenge and am finding new ways to meet our dietary needs.
• I leave the cupboard doors open and my shoes are all over the house. For years, I assumed that if the cupboard doors were open, that one of the children carelessly left it open. Also, my shoes were amongst the pile of theirs, so it didn’t seem as much of a problem. But now that they are gone, I clearly see the messes I make and the ones my husband doesn’t make. Every so often, I work on closing cupboard doors, but all too often, I get distracted with a new activity, and the door stays open. And as far as my shoes are concerned, I put them away when I expect company. And I am okay with this.
• We sit in the living room to eat dinner most nights. I felt guilty about this for a long time. It’s not like we are watching television while eating dinner, usually we are engaged in a lively conversation. But my beautiful table is so big that when we sit at it, it feels empty. And honestly, some nights we are tired, and want to sit somewhere more comfortably. I love my table when my whole family is gathered around it. But on ordinary nights, I like the intimacy of our living room when we eat dinner.
•  As an extrovert, I surprisingly enjoy the quietness of my home. My life is busy, with me leaving the house at least two days a week for outside obligations. But the times I am home alone, I really enjoy my time with God and myself. I spend time reading, listening to podcasts, and writing. I am finding myself engaged in more creative pursuits and exploring new worlds. It is also giving me space to address hard things in my life and move towards more wholeness.
• I am discovering new reasons why I love my husband. The last five years have been filled with a lot of changes for both of us. With this growth, we are finding new ways to connect with one another. Terry is not only my husband and the father of our children, but also my best friend. He works hard to keep up with my rabbit trail conversation style and pays attention to the new culinary artist I have discovered. He gets me, quirks, and all. And he’s forever patiently closing my cupboard doors.

There have been a few hard moments during this season. I remember when Maggie’s final box was moved out, how empty her room felt. And with that last box, the chapter of our children living with us was closed. I reflected how much this room had changed in the eleven years she had lived in it. As a 12-year-old, she decorated her room with touches of Parisian chic. In her mid-teens, she read “Moby Dick” and fell in love with all things nautical, changing her room once again. Now, she was embarking on a new decorating adventure as a newlywed with her first apartment.

Like Maggie’s changing style, Terry and I have had to adapt to new changes in this season. Holidays look different because of work schedules and distance. I can choose to be stuck in the past of how we have always done things or move forward and look to the future. For me, embracing the changes seems more beneficial to my life. And unlike some of the more sarcastic comments on the string, I don’t need to change my locks.