The empty nest

Well, it has happened. A few weeks ago, with my kids aged 23, 20 and 18, my home officially became an empty nest.

My younger son went to university two years ago, which I found really tough. In the summer, just weeks before his 23rd birthday, my eldest (who didn’t go to university) moved into a rented flat locally with his girlfriend. Then a few weeks ago my daughter went to uni.

It hit me really hard when my younger son went away. I thought it would be tough, but it was worse than I’d anticipated. I spent the first few days after he’d gone constantly bursting into tears. Someone told me it was a form of grief and that was definitely how it felt.

Of course, I adjusted in the end, but I still miss him.

My eldest moving out had the least impact on me – because he was so much older and he was only moving a few miles away. We were already used to him being away quite a lot because he has a lot of holidays and also works away sometimes. We still see him quite often to go running or watch football on TV. Sometimes he even comes round to work at home. But it still left another hole in our family.

I think my daughter enjoyed those last few months without her biggest brother. It meant we could spend more time just with her and do things we probably wouldn’t have done as a four or five. It was nice to spend that quality time with her.

But the day of her departure was looming…

She threw herself into preparations – buying things and organising things. I think my son probably spent about half an hour packing when he went to uni. My daughter spent DAYS.

And me? I periodically felt sad. The first time it hit me was the day before results day. Then it hit me every so often. I really didn’t want her to go.

It was next month/ in two weeks/ next week/ this week… It was coming round way too quickly.

I knew it was important for her – for her education and her independence. But selfishly I wanted to keep her here with me. I would never have told her that because I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but she knows me well enough to have guessed how I felt.

I was dreading feeling like I had when my son went away. I didn’t know how it would go for me with my daughter going. Would it be easier because I’d been through it before? Or would it be harder because she was the last one and I would be left with an empty nest?

And so the big day arrived. It was the day before my birthday, which wasn’t ideal. But at least it wasn’t my actual birthday. The traffic was horrendous and it took us far longer to get there than it should. Somehow, the bad traffic took a lot of the focus away from what we were actually doing. It didn’t seem real that we had my daughter and a massive pile of luggage in the car and, when we drove home, it would just be me, my husband and Hetty.

The drop-off wasn’t as quick as it was with my son, but it didn’t take too long. She was smiling when we left her. I was sad, but I didn’t cry.

My daughter being away affected me in a different way.

On the first night, I was hit by fears for her safety. I know boys can and do get attacked, but I know it’s more likely to happen for girls and also likely to be worse for girls. My daughter went to a girls’ grammar school and didn’t often go out. If she did go out, my husband would pick her up afterwards. She’d had a pretty sheltered life and suddenly she was on her own in a strange city.

At least Find My iPhone meant I could check where she was! It was reassuring to see she was at her halls when we went to bed on that first night.

We visited her the next day – because it was my birthday. The girl we found was very different from the smiling girl we’d dropped off. Reality had hit her and she’d had a really tough 24 hours. We did what we could to help, but in the end we had to leave her.

So where I had felt sad for myself when my son went, I was left feeling sad for my daughter and worrying about how she was settling in. My focus was all on her rather than myself. There wasn’t time or space for crying and grieving.

I’m pleased to say I haven’t had that overwhelming sense of grief I’d had before, which I’m very grateful for. It doesn’t mean I missed her less than her brother. It just means I’d adjusted from going through that experience with him.

My daughter came home three times within the first 12 days. But that was OK. She had to do what she needed to do to adjust. This was despite her brother and her best friend both being at the same uni. My son has been a brilliant support to her. We haven’t asked him to do anything, but he has just understood how she is feeling and stepped up to help her.

Then just as she was starting to find her feet socially, the freshers’ flu hit. The first few weeks of university really are a rollercoaster.

And me? I’m doing OK. Mostly I just feel a bit empty.

In a practical sense, things have changed a bit. Suddenly there are less chores to do. Our bedroom is downstairs and the kids’ rooms (and bathroom) are upstairs. I don’t need to hoover upstairs or clean the upstairs bathroom much any more. There is less washing to do and my car is doing less miles. I’m having to adjust my portion sizes again (and still generally making too much). It’s all just a bit different and strange.

I used to drive my son to school – the other two were at different schools and used to get the bus. I used to love picking him up every day and would look forward to it. He passed his driving test at the end of year 12, so then he drove himself to school and I looked forward to him getting home. When he went to uni, I looked forward to my daughter getting home. It was a longer wait for her, as her school is further away. Now she’s gone to university and I find myself looking forward to my husband getting home every day.

The early evenings are probably hardest, when we should be eating together and maybe taking Hetty for a walk or watching TV together.

My daughter had been gone a month when I suddenly had a proper cry. Both kids had been home for the weekend – my daughter Friday to Saturday and my son Saturday to Sunday. Sunday was also my son’s birthday. We had a lovely day, then he had to go back in the evening. And suddenly the loss of them hit me really hard and I had a good cry.

I’m getting by, but my life has lost some of its shine. With a husband and three kids, I’ve always been surrounded by people and now I’m not. For me, having an empty nest isn’t easy.