For the first time in a long time, my house is quiet.
My son is spending five weeks with his dad in Buffalo this summer, and we’re about halfway through. We’ve done extended visits before, but this one feels different. Maybe it’s because he’s older. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Or maybe it’s because I’m starting to realize that parenting is really just a series of small rehearsals for letting go.
No one has asked me for a snack in nearly three weeks.
No one needs a ride to camp.
No one is yelling from another room because they can’t find their favorite shirt.
No one is negotiating for five more minutes before bed or asking what’s for dinner at 3:30 in the afternoon.
And if I’m being honest, I’ve found the quiet a little unsettling.
I miss my son terribly. I think about him constantly. I wonder what he’s doing, if he’s having fun, and whether he’s remembering to wear sunscreen. I still find myself glancing at the clock and mentally calculating what he’d be doing at that exact moment.
But I’ve also enjoyed parts of this season.
And that’s the part that many parents don’t say out loud.
We often feel pressure to experience parenting in absolutes. If we miss our children, we shouldn’t appreciate the break. If we’re enjoying ourselves, maybe we must not miss them enough. If we feel relief, guilt tends to show up shortly afterward to remind us that good parents aren’t supposed to enjoy being needed less.
But that’s not how human emotions work.
As a therapist, I spend a lot of time helping people make room for competing feelings.
Two things can be true.
The challenge is that caregiving has a way of becoming more than just something we do. It can become who we are.
Over time, we become experts at anticipating needs. We know which child hates tomatoes, which one sleeps with the fan on, and which stuffed animal cannot be left behind under any circumstances. We manage schedules, emotional meltdowns, appointments, birthday parties, permission slips, sports registrations, dentist visits, and a seemingly endless supply of snacks.
Much of it becomes automatic.
We don’t wake up every morning and consciously decide to place ourselves at the center of someone else’s world. We simply do it because that’s what love looks like in this season.
But when the caregiving temporarily pauses, something interesting happens.
Space appears.
And space can be surprisingly uncomfortable.
Without the constant demands, we’re left alone with ourselves.
I’ve noticed this with clients, too.
Empty nesters often describe the transition as disorienting. Parents whose children leave for college sometimes report feeling unexpectedly sad, restless, or untethered. Even parents whose children are simply away at camp can experience a strange sense of purposelessness.
Not because they don’t have lives outside of parenting.
But because caregiving creates rhythm.
And when that rhythm changes, even temporarily, we have to decide what fills the silence.
For some people, that’s exciting.
For others, it’s anxiety-provoking.
For many of us, it’s both.
I’ve spent the past few weeks trying not to rush through this quieter season.
Instead, I’ve been practicing something that doesn’t come naturally to me: simply noticing.
I don’t think there are profound answers waiting for me at the end of this exercise.
I don’t expect to emerge from five weeks of solo parenting hiatus as some fully evolved version of myself.
But I do think there is value in allowing ourselves to experience seasons as they are instead of judging ourselves for how we feel inside them.
Because parenting seems to be one long lesson in holding two truths at once.
And if you’re in a season where the people who usually rely on you don’t need you quite as much, maybe you don’t have to figure out what it all means right away.
Maybe you can simply allow yourself to miss them.
Allow yourself to enjoy the quiet.
And trust that loving someone deeply and learning to enjoy your own company were never competing experiences to begin with.
April Eldemire is a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and couples therapist at Couples Thrive in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. She helps couples, individuals, and families work through relationship disconnection, communication breakdowns, infidelity, new-parenthood transitions, divorce-related stress, family conflict, grief, depression, and parenting challenges. April is trained in Gottman-Method Couples Therapy and Emotionally Focused Therapy, two research-based approaches used to help couples better understand negative interaction patterns, rebuild emotional connection, and strengthen the relationship over time.
