The little birdie is ready to leave the nest to fly and soar high.
I’ve been observing the mourning dove nest in our backyard. Both mom and dad doves work together to build a nest, incubate the eggs, and feed their babies. The chicks fledge when they are about two weeks old, and after multiple reinforcements by the parents, the chicks flap their wings and take flight; Leaving behind an empty nest.
With graduation ceremonies happening all around, it is that time of life for many parents when their little birdie has found the strength in the wings and is ready for take-off.
Are the parents prepared?
Recently my friend called me. Her sweet daughter is leaving for college, and I can only imagine her emotional state. When the child leaves the house for higher education, it’s a bittersweet milestone. Parents rejoice in wonder at the individual your child has become, and then there is a pain to be apart from your kid. Though a shake-up, it is a turning point in the lives of parents, a time to redefine our (parents) identities. Years go by, and parenting becomes our lifestyle. We parents devote ourselves to cooking for kids, lugging them to the classes, cheering for them, making them do their assignments, and without realization, our identities get intertwined with parenting. And this is not a bad thing. It’s the need of the moment. Parenting is a joy, and we parents relish in it. Now that the child is ready to fly. What now?
Even though I have a few more years before my kids’ graduate, I still get knots in my stomach whenever this subject comes about. Time does fly. And, we all know this deep inside that the time to prepare for this jarring event is much before children leave. So planning in advance is the key. It is good to be reminded and to prepare emotionally and equip yourself with good friends, a supporting partner, and a passion(s) that not only gets you through this upheaval but gives you an ongoing purpose in life.
Are only parents impacted?
Though much of the spotlight is on parents when we discuss the empty nest syndrome, siblings get equally impacted. I clearly remember when my sisters left for college; I felt left behind. Though in all honesty, I experienced a respite from them, bossing me around the house. I thought that they got to have a cool life while I was stuck at home. I used to wait for them to come home for holidays, and when their plans changed as they chose to spend it with teenage cousins and friends, I’d be deeply disappointed. Gradually, I made peace with this change. But it took time.
I got more time to spend with mom and our pet dogs. I went on long walks, read more, and got bored even more. During this boredom, I wrote and realized writing kept me sane. And I continued to do so.
And I reconnected at a different level with my sisters. Their exposure to the outside world helped me grow more. They shared their experiences, resources, books, and probably gave me more courage to leave home and discover my path.
Nevertheless, it was quite an adjustment for me.
What’s a child’s perspective?
After my sisters moved out, years went by and before long it was my time to leave home and move to another city for my college. It meant leaving my mom alone. She was a single parent and being the youngest sibling—the last baby bird to fly from the coop, I was overwhelmed by guilt. At the same time, I was excited to build a life of my own.
I had knots in my stomach then too. I was also excited to take over the world. It took time to adapt to the new world without a parent figure to guide me at all times. I felt responsible for making my decisions.
And my mom—she was encouraging. She never once flinched in her role to let go of her baby. And to be the wind beneath my wings. So, I took off.
Will I be strong enough to let go and let my babies fly?
I often wonder when my time comes, if I’ll be able to let go of my babies. I take respite in the fact that I still have some time before my children are ready to embark upon their journey. Until then, I want to immerse in the sheer joy of innocence, and the fleeting nature of childhood.
Last year my younger son found out the truth about the Santa and the Tooth Fairy. These milestones were a bittersweet realization my baby is growing. These unfurling of truth moments are happening too fast for me. For now, I want to be present and basque in the warmth of childhood innocence, just like this conversation with my now nine-year-old—
Me (the night before his birthday): “How old are you?
Him: “I’m eight.”
And then I ask the same question the very next morning on the day of his birthday.
Me (the morning of his birthday): “How old are you?
Him: “I’m nine.”.
Me: So what happened magically overnight that turned you a year older.
Him (with a smile): I don’t know.
I’ll continue to ask my kid this question every year. For now, I want to soak in every moment of parenting as I watch my kids grow their wings. And when their time arrives to soar, I’ll reminisce through these blog posts with a wistful smile. And that’s how I’ll survive the empty nest.
Photo by Jane Carmona on Unsplash
Photo by Vasily Koloda on Unsplash