When Motherhood Changes
Today is my youngest's last day of preschool. Between both kids, this school and its teachers were an integral part of our lives for eight years. I know this routine. Our mornings have danced to a familiar rhythm for so long I don’t even need to think about the steps. And after today, I won't need to remember any of it.
I'm relieved. I'm ready. And I also cried in the car this morning.
And that is what motherhood does to you. You get in the groove and as soon as you feel any amount of self-efficacy, it hands you a grenade and it’s on to the next phase. And you feel all of it at once. The joy of watching your kid grow and the grief of a stage you'll never get back. The relief of leaving the hard parts behind and fear of not knowing what’s around the corner. Will you know what to do? Are you prepared?
Grieving Something You're Glad Is Over
You can be done with the mind-numbing relentless repetition. You can be ready to punt kick the sleepless nights, nap schedules, pumping, 5-point harnesses, and buying diapers in bulk. And you can also feel a pang of ambivalent nostalgia. That lump in your throat when you realize the toddler giggles, board books, and Raffi on repeat are behind you now. Baby Beluga is leaving Octopus’ Garden and that’s legitimately sad.
Those two feelings aren't in conflict. They're both real and beautiful and cruel all at one.
I see this in my office all the time. The push-pull of a mom experiencing the loss of a chaotic life she loves while being launched into a new era that is at once an exciting adventure and chasm of unknown depths. That's one of the most disorienting emotional experiences there is.
Becoming Someone New, Again
Every new stage of your child's life retires a version of you that was built for and within the last one. The parent you were during the baby years who ran on adrenaline and coffee. When soothing a screaming infant at 3 a.m. was just another Tuesday. That person was a f****ing rockstar. And now they're not needed in the same way.
That's a loss, even when the new version of parenting could be even better. For me, the elementary school years have been my favorite stage so far. The thought of both my kids being in this stage together feels like stepping into a golden era of family life. The conversations are richer, the logistics are simpler (sports schedules not included), and I actually sleep. But getting here meant letting go of something I'll never get to do again. And pretending that doesn't sting would be dishonest and a disservice to that version of me.
One of the best things about this evolution is that the sense of self I lost in those early years is returning, or rather becoming something new. New motherhood is all consuming and instead of being Jessica I was someone’s “Mom.” My devotion to my children meant letting some of myself go. A sacrifice I know is common. But as they grow, my dimmer switch gets brighter again. As they need me less, I get to be me more. And that’s really cool. I wrote about this in a different context in my post on losing your sense of self.
What I've Learned So Far
Some moments are wonderful. Some are just survivable. Some you'll forget entirely and that's fine. Let yourself feel the transitions instead of performing your way through them. Let it be bittersweet. Let the car cry happen. Tell someone, "I'm sad about this," and “I’m so ready for this to be over.” Both are true and that's healthy. That's honest. That's what allows you to step into the next phase without dragging unprocessed emotions behind you.
My kids are growing and my role keeps changing. I'm figuring out who I am in each new stage just like they are. And today, I'm sitting with the strange, incredible ache of a chapter closing and another one starting.
If you're in a transition that feels heavier than you expected, whether it's a new baby, a kid starting school, an empty nest, or something in between, I work with parents navigating exactly this. Book a free consultation and let's talk.
