When you are a mother, you often worry whether you will be a good example for your children or a horrible warning of what not to do. The jury is still out on me and which category I fall into, but what I witnessed my mother do when I was 15 was a horrible warning about what can happen to you when your children leave the nest.
I grew up in New Jersey and was the younger of 2 girls in my family. My mother was a college graduate who wanted to be a lawyer, but the men in her life (her father and my father) refused to let her follow her dreams. Instead, she was a brilliant women forced to be a homemaker in the 1960’s, married to a man who forbade her from working. So her whole life was wrapped up in raising and caring for me and my sister.
My sister graduated from high school at the end of my freshman year of high school, and spent the summer after graduation getting ready to head to college in New York . I shared her excitement for the phase of her life that was about to begin, totally oblivious to the effect it probably was having on our mother.
I remember my parents packing the car with all of my sister’s gear for college. It was a warm September morning. I hugged my sister good-bye and off they went to take her to college. I went off to high school, blissfully unaware the storm clouds which were gathering in my family.
Soon after my parents returned from taking my sister to college, my mother became ill, and went to bed. She said she had vague symptoms of illness, and for the first few days I thought it was just one of her “sick headaches” which she sometimes complained about. But this was different. She wasn’t getting out of bed. I’d leave for school in the morning, and she would be in bed. When I returned home in the afternoon, she hadn’t moved from the bed.
Days turned into weeks, and my mother did not leave the bed. I started to panic. I was 15 years old and suddenly I had to take care of my mother, the house, make dinner and do my homework. My father was busy with his dental practice, so I really couldn’t talk to him about my fears and overwhelm. And I was too embarrassed about my mother’s behavior to talk about it with my friends or my sister.
As the days went by I kept hoping my mother would get better. Finally, after my mother had been in bed for almost six weeks, I began begging my mother to go to the doctor. I thought she was dying, and I was scared and a little angry that my father hadn’t insisted that she see a doctor.
Finally, after pleading with my mother, she finally agreed to go to the doctor. I will never forget what happened at that appointment. My mother was completely uncooperative with the doctor (who also happened to be a friend of my parents). I vividly remember her resisting getting her blood pressure checked or any of the other diagnostic procedures the doctor was trying to do. She was behaving like a toddler. Frankly, I’m surprised that she didn’t try to run from the room!
Crazy as it was, even though I was 15 I felt like I was the only adult in the room. I still remember the look on her face when I yelled at her to cooperate with the doctor. I was at my wits end and just wanted to know what was wrong with her so the doctor could fix it. My outburst was enough to make her stop her behavior and let the doctor examine her.
I understand now why my mother didn’t want to see a doctor and didn’t want to cooperate with the doctor when he was examining her. There was nothing physically wrong with her, and the doctor gave her a clean bill of health. He didn’t ask about her mental health or what triggered her ill feelings. It was a different time…
I was confused and angry. I had been terrified that my mother was dying while I watched her confined to her bed for 6 weeks. And now the doctor was saying that she wasn’t ill?
This was the mid-1970’s, before anyone was talking about Empty Nest Syndrome and what can happen to mothers when their children leave the nest. Even at age 15, I was wise enough to figure out that the catalyst for my mother’s “illness” was my sister leaving for college. But I was still at home, so Mom’s nest wasn’t entirely empty. It took me many years to really understand what had happened to my mother, and the triggering effect of her first child leaving the nest.
After that fateful doctor’s appointment, my mother did not go back to bed. But she did sink into a serious depression, which was never treated. Either my father was oblivious to it, or he knew that my mother would refuse to get any help.
Fast forward a few months. It was the middle of winter in New Jersey. I would come home from school in the afternoon to find my mother staring blankly out the window at our backyard. She wouldn’t look at me or talk to me.
I had recently turned 16 and as I stood there, in the kitchen, looking at my mother as she gazed out the window without acknowledging me, I made the following promises to myself: 1) I would never let a man decide for me what I would do or not do: and 2) when my future children leave the house for college, I will find ways to fill the emptiness with joyful activities so that my children would not have to worry about me.
I suspect that my mother spent the next couple of years, before I left for college, preparing herself mentally for my departure. I say that because when I left for college a couple of years later, and my mother’s nest was truly empty, as far as I know she never went to bed or suffered greatly from my absence.
After college I went to law school and became a lawyer. I also became a mother to three wonderful sons. The vow that I made to myself when I was 16 echoed in my head while I was raising my sons. I vividly remember the pain I felt watching my youngest son graduate from high school, realizing that this chapter of my life, which I loved so much, was quickly coming to an end.
All I could do was wonder where did time go? And why didn’t I soak up every second instead of focusing on juggling my law career with being a mom and rushing from activity to activity? Those thoughts filled me with sadness and regret.
The day I returned home to an empty house after taking my youngest son to college, I stood in the doorway of my bedroom, looked at my bed and thought of my mother. In that moment, I renewed the promise that I made to myself when I was sixteen: I would not succumb to the sadness and emptiness of the quiet house, my Empty Nest. I didn’t want my sons to worry about me like I worried about my mother, and I was determined to find new and fulfilling ways to fill the time previously spent raising them.
And so began my Empty Nest journey. At first I felt unmoored, as the school year calendar had anchored my life for so many years. I no longer was my sons’ chauffeur, ferrying them to school and activities. I now had to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be for the next half of my life.
So what did I do? Follow me to find out where my Empty Nest Journey has taken me! Need help navigating your Empty Nest? Schedule a free call with me and let’s plan how you can rock the second half of your life!
