Welcome to the last entry in my series chronicling my youngest daughter’s senior year in high school and her adventures with the college application process. Alongside her journey, I’m also tackling my own transition as we prepare for an empty nest and ponder what’s next for me as my role as a stay-at-home mom comes to a close. If you missed the earlier parts of this series, feel free to check them out!
When it comes to heading off to college, there’s certainly a lot to do—applications, recommendation requests, and SAT/ACT score collection. However, there’s also an emotional component for both parent and child—the crucial work of separation.
No matter the state of your relationship with your teen—whether it’s harmonious, occasionally rocky, or best buds—you and your soon-to-be college student must face the inevitable separation, regardless of how you feel about it!
As I prepare for this transition with my younger daughter, I’ve been reflecting on the concept of separation. With my older daughter, the process felt relatively straightforward. She was always fiercely independent, eager to experience sleepaway camp at a young age and traveling abroad during her junior year of high school. When she chose a college five and a half hours away, I didn’t bat an eye. She thrived on her own, returning home only for a few holidays and one summer. Our relationship remains strong; we communicate regularly, but she makes her own decisions and shares them with me later. This autonomy is exactly what I aimed for as a parent—raising self-sufficient, capable adults.
In contrast, the separation from my younger daughter feels more daunting. This is the child who made her entrance into the world five days late, who clung to me for comfort during her infancy, and who resisted the idea of preschool. She preferred the security of home and still enjoys curling up next to me at night to chat about her day. While I’ve encouraged her to choose her own college, she often seeks my input, which we both find amusing.
Recently, she began her senior year, and I’ve grown accustomed to receiving texts from her throughout the day. But last week, I experienced a sudden silence. I didn’t hear from her at all—not during class, lunch, or even on her way to work. I didn’t see her until she returned home at 5:30 PM.
Despite my urge to reach out, I resisted. I was curious about her day—how she felt about her new classes, who she sat with at lunch, and whether she gathered any essential senior information, like cap and gown orders. This absence of communication represents our necessary separation. A day without contact is a positive sign, a milestone to be cherished. It indicates her growth towards independence, a crucial step in her evolution into the confident and capable adult I hope she becomes.
While applications and test scores are certainly important, don’t overlook the significance of practicing separation. It’s the part that matters most in the long run—something I remind myself when it feels a bit strange.
For more insights on navigating the journey of parenthood, check out this post on home insemination, or visit Make A Mom for comprehensive resources. Additionally, for excellent information on intrauterine insemination, explore this Cleveland Clinic resource.
In summary, the emotional journey of separating from your child as they approach college is as vital as the logistical preparations. Embrace these moments of independence, as they are essential for growth—for both parents and children.