I haven’t been sleeping. Not really.

Plus, I spent the last two days stripping, sanding, and re-staining a table. For HOURS. I couldn’t stop. I just needed to busy my hands.

I don’t know, for a week or more I’ve been…unsettled. Anxious. Wondering and wandering around the house. Blah.

Then this morning I woke up and burst into tears.

Ohhhhhhh. I know what this is…

This is GRIEF. All this anxiety, the blah feeling, the unsettledness, the wondering, the fixation on a project, the not sleeping, all of it. It’s grief.

This is the anticipatory grief that my first child is leaving our home for college. That he’ll come ‘home’ every night to sleep in a bed that isn’t in our house. That he’ll no longer spend that half hour or so before bedtime with his legs spilling over the rocker in the corner of our living room talking my ear off. That I won’t get to see him every day. Or hug him. That he’s growing up and out of our house. That he’s…grown.

I keep thinking, How can that be? What does this mean for our family? We’ll just have dinners with one less person at the table every night? How? He’s leaving? I’m supposed to just…adjust?

Yep.

These are the facts of the situation. This is true. What’s happening is exactly what is supposed to happen. Our children are supposed to grow. And change. And live real lives. Yes.

But at the same time, it is perfectly okay to admit this change is hard on my momma heart. It’s okay that it feels necessary to grieve.

To wander the house, watch a late-night show, head out for a walk, buy something, call my best friend a ridiculous number of times during the week, get a tattoo, eat a little too much ice cream, pray, forgive myself for all the things I didn’t teach him, and practice kindness and self-compassion as I grieve this change.

Mommas, may we do our best to love our children and teach them and watch them grow. And may we be gentle and understanding with ourselves as we let them go.