You've Got Mom Grief

But his mother treasured all these things in her heart.

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.

— LUKE 2:51-52

It had been the last summer vacation with everyone home. Jenna was now settled in Mexico for her first week as a missionary. Mark was back on campus for his senior year of college. Our college freshman, Drew, was settling into his first week at the university, and Ethan's year as a high school sophomore was well underway.

I stood in my kitchen that was awkwardly quiet on the first day with everyone gone. It was just me, my cup of coffee, and a lot of tears.

I let the tears fall. I had anticipated this moment for months, facing the fact that three of my four children were fledging and the end of the childrearing years was upon me. I gave myself permission to feel, to remember, and to cry. It was full-blown mom grief.

Mom grief is a term I coined during the last couple of years as my world quickly changed. Grief is where I was stuck, teetering back and forth between holding on and letting go, between looking back and not wanting to look forward. Grief is your natural response to the loss of a person or something important to you. For a mom fledging her kids, there's a lot of loss.

How each of us respond to mom grief is a little different, depending on our personalities and circumstances. Yet, no matter whether we have one child or six, some feelings are the same.

Standing in the kitchen that day, I was overwhelmed by memories. In my mind I went back to the days when the kids were babies, when my love for them was so big and deep I thought I'd explode. Life was simple, but the moments were significant — reading them a story, rocking them to sleep, feeling their breath on my shoulder.

Many of us, like Jesus' mother, Mary, have pondered these moments in our hearts. I grieved because my job rearing these kids was almost finished. I ached for the days when the kids were young. Though they still needed me, it wasn't the same.

Other memories came. Summer days when all three boys played Wiffle ball in the front yard. Christmas vacations when Jenna directed her brothers in their own rendition of a Christmas story production. I missed tripping over Thomas the Tank Engine cars and looking for deals in the Scholastic book orders. I missed the one-on-one car rides with teens before they could drive, when the car was the place they would talk to you about school, relationships, and questions too hard to discuss face-to-face.

I longed to pray with each them at bedtime just one more time.

Then I remembered God's goodness during the hard years. The days of postpartum depression, when feelings of being overwhelmed never ended. The days my family was falling apart because of excessive busyness, conflict with teenagers, and a reactionary mom who was out of control. The days I knew I had failed, and the days that God's faithfulness answered my cries.

There in my kitchen on that late August morning, I gave in to the mom grief and wept. This crazy, exhausting, and exhilarating time of life was almost over.

THIS IS WHERE YOU ARE "That's what I need!" a mom said when I told her the subject of this book. It's a similar response I've heard from other women; from the woman whose firstborn was about to graduate, from the mom ready for her last one to leave, and from women in various stages in between. It's a season in which emotions, changes, and experiences just can't be understood except by those who are or have been at a similar place.

It's the best of times and the worst of times all rolled into one. And some days you're just holding on.

There's no better description than fledging to describe the process parents go through to nurture, strengthen, and prepare their children before releasing them: birds developing wing feathers large enough for flight; a warrior who adds feathers to an arrow before launch. Yet with all the focus and preparation on the fledgling, no one really checks on Mama Bird and all the changes that happen when your quiver starts emptying — changes for you, your child, and your family.

We're left on the sideline, unsure of what's next.

If you're like me, you sometimes feel like you're losing your mind and your emotional composure while you're watching it all happen. I'm a strong tower one moment — like on the day of my son's wedding. Yet I fight to hold myself together the day he and his bride pack up their cars and drive away to their new home.

Without me.

The night that Mark and Samantha left for their new home after returning from their honeymoon, another mom of married boys asked me how I was doing. I was embarrassed to say what I was feeling out loud. My friend, however, just knew. So we sat on her porch and talked about the grief, the changes, and how releasing your kids is one of the hardest things you do.

Letting go of them is a string of lasts and big moments. The last day of elementary school, middle school, and high school. Graduations and weddings, some of them in the same year. Time moves toward these milestones at breakneck speed, and you can't stop it. You experience these events with an ache in your heart, wondering where your babies went and who you will be when the last one leaves.

You and I aren't empty nesters yet. Often, when I've lamented the "lasts," well-meaning friends in the season ahead say how great it is with kids out of the house. I've heard the infamous line: "Just wait until grandkids!" But inside, I say, Wait! I don't want to be consoled about how great life is going to be! This is where I'm at. I don't want anyone to take away one minute of my family life now.

I feel like a weird species some days, chasing my teens with the camera because every moment is a last. As my teenagers roll their eyes with every snapshot, I feel stupid and out-of-date. I also feel vulnerable, because my emotions come out of nowhere. Yet other days there's contentment, loving the moments with adult-like kids, celebrating their victories and savoring the occasions in which they treat you like a real person.

Soon after my oldest two children went to college, it seemed I was in a time warp, caught between the past and the future. I was looking back too much, longing for what was. I was also fearful of what was to come. Our life was suddenly different. I felt as if I were living someone else's life and I didn't know how to navigate it. I felt vulnerable and emotional like I did in junior high, during that awkward transition between two big phases of life.

If you've felt this way at all, you're not alone. You've got permission to just be here, no matter how it looks.

GOD'S BLUEPRINT FOR THE FAMILY | I'm what you'd call a "seasoned" mom. I'm not young, but I'm not old. My house isn't full of four kids anymore, but it's not yet empty. As I mentioned in the introduction, we currently have a child in high school, one in college, one who's married, and one who's a full-time missionary. With each child who's left for college, our family has changed and my life has changed. While the day-to-day chaos has lessened, there are new challenges and responsibilities, and a lot of unknowns.

Just when you think you have something figured out, circumstances change.

Though I'm a counselor, I've...