By Shane Svorec
If you’ve recently caught yourself staring at your husband, wondering where the years went and how your children grew up so fast, you might have also cringed when others cheerfully welcomed you into the “empty nester” club. Personally, I’ve never liked that term. It’s not that I’m in denial, feel unfulfilled, lack my own identity, or don’t want to accept change; it’s that I find the term to be a punch in the gut and a psychological slap in the face to women going through one of the most significant transitions of motherhood.
From the moment you first hold your child, life changes, and your priorities shift. You become their provider, teacher, and protector, and then, in what feels like the blink of an eye, you set them free. It’s natural and something we, as mothers, strive to do successfully. It’s what happens afterward that we don’t talk about much, but learn to accept. When the time comes for your children to move out and move on, you know you’ve done your job. Still, without an instruction manual or survival guide to rely on, it often leaves one in a tailspin, asking, “What now?”
I’ve never understood why, as a society, we use that term to describe someone who is going through a separation, closing a chapter, and facing the uncertainty of starting something new. “Empty nester” doesn’t whisper pride or a sense of achievement, nor does it evoke joy over the new and exciting opportunities it can bring; it just screams emptiness.
Rushing Through Motherhood
Everything about raising children feels rushed, often because others’ experiences are imposed on us. “Soon, they’ll be out of diapers,” “Before you know it, they’ll be going to school,” etc. This tendency to hurry up and reach the next stage, milestone, or chapter is like a scene from a classic cartoon where all Wile E. Coyote hears is “Meep, meep,” as Road Runner zips by. Childhood is that speedy bird most moms try to catch and hold onto.
As soon as my children started high school, it began – “Soon, you’ll be empty nesters!” as if that was something to look forward to. Now, don’t get me wrong, raising kids is a tough job – the toughest, but I never wanted to rush it. I savored every stage of childhood, although some left me more tired and stressed than others.
It was Dorothy Canfield who coined the term “empty nest syndrome” in her 1914 book, “Mothers and Children.” Forty-plus years later, the first recorded use of the term “empty nester” appeared in 1958. Then, in the 1970s, the idea of “Empty Nest Syndrome” sparked widespread discussion and research. It’s no surprise that a syndrome would follow such a somber term used to describe parents who learned to swallow their tears and put on a brave face as they waved goodbye to their children. Canfield’s writing acknowledged the sadness but also emphasized the importance of preserving a mother’s individuality while highlighting the positive aspects of the evolving relationship between mothers and their children. One hundred and eleven years later, I can’t help but wonder what she would think if she knew her words, meant to describe the complex feelings of a mother learning to let go, had become a popular catchphrase used to identify someone today.
A Nest that is Never Empty
For the first time in twenty years, it’s just me and my husband again. After having three children back-to-back and caring for many others, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the sadness and strangeness I initially felt, but also express the immense pride and happiness I felt for my children. Pieces of my heart are now scattered across the country on military bases and college campuses. It is an ongoing adjustment that continues to evolve and change, while love and pride remain constant. I share this because I believe one of the most loving things we can do for other women is to acknowledge that while it is a badge of honor and achievement to watch your children fly, it is also a bittersweet transition.
I feel incredibly proud to have raised three remarkable young adults who are well-equipped and ready to enter the world, be independent, and self-sufficient. It is one of my biggest blessings and greatest achievements as a mother. But being an “empty nester” is not my reward; instead, being a life builder, future creator, goal fulfiller, joy discoverer, and perpetual nest warmer are more fitting descriptions.
My children may have flown the “nest,” but what’s left isn’t empty. My “nest” will always be warm, inviting, and full of love. I’ve rearranged it a bit and found things I can now dedicate more time to, but it will always be the place where my children come home to, find comfort, and feel the love of a mother who will never be empty. So, to all my fellow mommas out there feeling this, here’s a reminder to be gentle with yourself, take pride in your accomplishments, honor your heart, follow your ambitions, and remember that a warm, loving nest will always be full.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shane Svorec is a Sales and Marketing Professional who, during Covid, pursued her long-time passion for writing, published her first book, and became an award-winning author. Her work includes Broken Little Believer: Finding Purpose in All the Pretty Painful Pieces, The Busy Bridge That Got Its Break, and Acorn Adventures. An inspirational writer who connects with readers through her colorful storytelling abilities, encouraging messages, and positive perspective, she lives in NJ with her husband, three children, and rescue pets.
