…and now there are two…

This week, Robert and I dropped the youngest of the Donovan daughters off for her freshman year of college. We had a wonderful time getting her room mostly set up, laughing too loud in a restaurant at lunch and just being together that day. Leaving her there was bittersweet, as we knew it would be. Somehow in those obligatory pictures of them sitting on their new beds, they look so small and young. All the bravado of 18 hidden, if only for a moment.

It was equally difficult to leave each of her sisters when it was their turn but this time felt very different. Before, we have returned home to at least one daughter waiting for us. Wednesday there was no one. No hugs at the door. No footsteps upstairs. No cups on the counter, shoes under the table or backpacks in the floor. Just me, Robert and our two very confused dogs.

I woke the next morning feeling heavy and slow and I realized that my old buddy Grief had snuck up on me once again. A weighted blanket of gray settled in like a thick, wet fog.

Each of our girls are exactly where they are supposed to be doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing at this point in their lives. That thrills me. I love my husband. Even more, I like him. A lot. I am really excited about the adventures, even the mundane ones, that lay ahead.

So why am I such a sad sack?

For 24 years, I have had our children at the forefront of my life. Even though Robert and I share parenting duties when you look at the big picture, the day to day doldrums of parenthood rested squarely on my shoulders. When the girls were little and Robert was traveling for work all the time, we were the 4 Musketeers trying to get through another week. Eat, play, bathe, sleep, repeat. For years. There was increasing freedom as each became potty trained, learned to bathe themselves and turn the shower on and off. Picking out their own clothes, fixing snacks and the high school years of independence quickly followed. But I have always been the Master of the Calendar. I had all the information about what was happening in their lives whether it be school, band, youth group, friends, etc… Raising our girls has been a full time job and I feel as though I have retired into I-don’t-know-what. It’s like the beginning of some of the old Disney movies that open with a massive storybook and the giant turning page. I feel that page shoving my reluctant, hesitant butt out the door.

I am grieving because I have loved it. Every single moment, even the hard ones. I always wanted children and I am blessed with three young women who are so cool and smart and fun to be with. We have been through so much with them, good and bad. We have had a lot of fun and made some really great memories along the way. I have made a million mistakes as a mother but somehow we got through. I am unashamedly in love with each of them and they tell me often that they feel the same. I’m not getting teary…you are…

When I was in college, my mom would call me once a week or so and it was always around 3:30 in the afternoon. I naively asked her why and she said – that’s when you would get home and tell me about your day and I miss that. I have a new understanding for what she was feeling.

I am fully aware that parenting doesn’t end after high school. In fact, it is more challenging. You are guiding them through young adulthood (key word adult) and the situations are no longer about misplaced T shirts, messy rooms and friend squabbles. It’s adult life. And it’s really, really hard sometimes.

Robert and I will travel this road as we always have, leaning on each other and trying to make each other laugh or roll their eyes. Seeing our girls as often as we can and rediscovering what it is like to be two instead of five. The fog is starting to lift and the gratitude for the time we had with them in our house is tangible and sweet. 

Our first adventure awaits….I wish I could tell you that it’s something more exciting than shoulder surgery for Robert but I’m not in charge of the calendar anymore….♥️