When the Empty Nest Isn't Empty

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Facebook is full of posts showcasing decorated dorm rooms, parents in college T-shirts, and acknowledgments that they left part of their heart in some college town where their child will now reside.

This week, I prepare to drop off all three of my kids at their respective colleges for the first time.

Which, I guess, makes me what people call an empty nester.

But why do they call it an empty nest?

When baby birds grow up and fly away, the mama bird also abandons the nest.

Yet in my case—and maybe yours—you have to return to the nest.

So what exactly are you returning to?

Three said birds that are flying from the "nest" this week.

1. A decidedly uncluttered house

No more AirPods on the coffee table. Where are the backpacks in the entryway? And what happened to the food crumbs on the kitchen floor?

Regardless of how you keep your home, having one less person there diminishes the mess—at least a little. In my case, my compulsively organized self doesn’t quite know how to handle being down three people.

All those times I admonished them to put their stuff away, and now the empty countertops serve as a sign that they are cluttering a new nest while yours is decidedly emptier.

A spotless kitchen highlights the tranquility and order that may emerge when the house becomes emptier.

2. Self-doubt

Despite having a career, being a wife, and countless other roles, being a mom is different.

Was there ever such an overworked, underpaid job?

And I say that having done residency before the 80-hour workweek rule, so you know I’ve been underpaid and overworked before.

I understand that I’m still a mom. I’m still on call 168 hours a week—or 169 hours the week Daylight Saving Time ends. But the day-to-day workload decreases.

And when all three of my kids leave, what will I fill the time with?

Piano lessons. Taking up running for fun. Seeing more patients. Binging all the TV shows I missed between 2007 and 2017.

There is a sense of self-doubt as I step into a new role that has yet to be defined.

Will I be good at something new?

I may not have been the perfect mom all the time, but at least it was familiar.

Does my 50-year-old body really want to run a marathon?

Spoiler alert: No, it doesn’t. And no, it won’t.

Reflecting on new beginnings as a woman navigates life with an empty nest.

3. Midlife

Look, we were probably already in midlife before leaving for college drop-off, but the trek is a stark reminder that we are, indeed, middle-aged.

Sure, my back is stiff, and the back of my hand looks just a little more wrinkled.

As if I didn’t already know I was aging.

There is nothing like dropping off a child at college to make you realize how young and spry your body once felt.

How devouring a pizza with a beer was easy and did not lead to taking TUMS in the middle of the night.

How it feels like you were partying outside a frat house just a few months ago, yet you know your discerning taste would probably turn up its nose at keg beer now.

How I signed up for LASIK surgery without even considering that a laser was making a permanent flap in my cornea that could potentially lead to blindness.

Consequences were quieter.

Selfishness was louder.

And all of it was done while jogging on two healthy knees.

Golden "50" balloons shimmer in the sunlight, marking a significant milestone in midlife surrounded by colorful balloons and autumn hues.

4. Abandoned dreams

The average life expectancy for a woman in the U.S. is 81.4 years.

That means I have approximately 31 years and five months to accomplish all the dreams I have put off.

Hmmm…

Time to start writing the book.

Necesito aprender español.(had to use Google Translate for that one)

Have to book a flight to Spain and walk the Camino de Santiago.

Let’s be honest. It’s probably not all going to happen.

But how many dreams have I put away because there was always something—or someone—who needed me first?

In a 2016 study, researchers found that 50% of women worldwide had given up their dreams as they grew older because of other responsibilities. I wonder if that number has gone up even more in the last decade.

Women are often taught that dreams are selfish. That there is always someone else who should come first. That taking time for ourselves can wait.

But what happens when I come home three children lighter?

Do I open the drawer where I’ve tucked away those dreams and finally give them some air?

Maybe. I don’t know. Ask me in a year.

Amidst the serene mountain view, a woman sits contemplatively, pondering the possibilities of reviving long-held dreams as the sun sets on the horizon.

5. A partner

That may be a spouse. A pet. A friend.

Maybe all of the above or something else.

Because when you come back to the nest, things are lonelier.

Things are quieter.

Things are different.

And sometimes, you may need to open up your nest to someone else—someone who can sit with you in the quiet, help nourish you for a bit, and remind you that an empty nest doesn’t have to mean an empty life.

Maybe that’s the real challenge of August.

Not figuring out how to let our children leave the nest.

But figuring out what we want to do with the nest once they’re gone.

A carefully woven nest floats on a serene body of water, adorned with vibrant green leaves and delicate pink flowers, adding a touch of color to the natural setting.