When I see blogs by so many young mothers, I remember the oh-so precious moments when my children were very young. I enjoyed them thoroughly.
The empty nest syndrome hit me like a ton of bricks. As each child left home to go to University it hurt so much. To me, their vulnerability in facing the tough world outside (maybe because we lived in a small town), added to the sadness of missing them. When the youngest left, it was by then such a deep physical ache that took so long to fade.
But somehow, when they each found their own partners and were happy, it eased the ache in my heart so much. Now, even when they come and visit and leave, there is no heartache, if they look happy. But the minute I feel one of them has a problem, the ache comes, even if I know that I have to leave them to deal with it on their own.
The children always tell me not to worry. But then, as I am sure other parents will testify, one’s child is always one’s child, whether 1, 19, 30 or 50. As my own son admitted after seeing his nephew for the first time, “No wonder parents find it so difficult to see their adult children as grown up, after seeing them in this helpless state!”