How Am I Going To Cope When My Child Leaves Home?

I was quite happy floating around in my lovely little bubble of denial. But it's just burst with an alarming pop. In Preparing For Your Child Leaving For University, I wrote:

"...now it's time for me to face the reality of the countdown really being on."

Well, I didn't actually face that reality then. I managed to coast through another three weeks swept up in the busyness - a trip to London, 18th birthday celebrations, and all the university preparations. I had no idea how time consuming this was going to be but I'm actually grateful that my mind has been so preoccupied. The lists, budget planning and shopping kept me so distracted that my bubble felt safe and intact. Until now.

My last post about Vaila going to uni felt reasonably rational and measured, focusing on what her new experience might be like. Today’s post won’t be like that. Because now I’m spiralling into… well, all the feelings: grief, fear, sadness, excitement, nerves.

I don't know what's caused the bubble to burst but I can report that I am no longer in denial - and I don't like it. I was doing just fine, working on all the preparations with my girl, sharing in her excitement, helping her plan and figure things out. I'd go so far as to say I was enjoying it!

Facing up to Reality

Around 2am this morning, something shifted. Maybe it’s because the finances are sorted and most of the shopping is done, leaving space in my brain for the emotions to flood in. While meal planning (I was trying to distract myself!) I found myself trying to cram in all of Vaila’s favourite dinners before she leaves. But I couldn’t bring myself to think about meals for the day after she moves out. I think that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get there.

So there I was, lying in bed imagining how it's going to feel to take her to her new flat and leave her there. To have three of us round the table instead of four. To see Toby dog confused about where she's gone. It didn't take long for these thoughts to make me feel quite nauseous. And to be honest, I'm struggling to shift that feeling.

How Am I Going To Cope?

I'm aware that I've got a bit of a cheek to be weeping and wailing like a banshee (I'm not actually doing that currently but watch this space....). While some parents are preparing for their child to move to another part of the country, or even a different continent, my daughter is only going to be half an hour away. She'll be in a city I regularly spend time in and I'll be able to swoop over the bridge to see her as often as she needs me to (which may be less often than I would like to!).

But her handy location will not change the fact that she will no longer be here with me, sleeping in her bedroom, sitting at the dinner table, watching TV on our sofa. I know she’s ready, and I’m genuinely excited for her. It’s not that I don’t want her to go - it’s just that this is one of the hardest parts of the parenting journey.

I'm not leaving it to chance. I know that for me to get through the month of September, I'm going to have to plan my coping strategies. So I suppose the premature busting of the bubble of denial has been a good prompt for me to start planning life after D-Day.

Mentally Preparing for Drop Off Day

The first thing I need to survive is D-Day. My mum cried when she left me in my new student accommodation but I only know this because someone else saw her as she was leaving. She had done a magnificent job of holding back any tears in front of me and I know I need to do the same for Vaila. Given that I've shed tears at most school plays, and first and last days of nursery, primary and secondary school, this is going to be a challenge. I've even had to fight back tears at seeing other people's children reach such milestones, knowing that one day it would be my own!

However, I'm determined that this will be a happy and exciting day for Vaila and she will not see me cry.

I remember very little of my own university preparation, other than choosing some crockery from the local hardware store. What I remember clearly though was the three hour journey from home to Edinburgh, sitting in the front beside my dad with my mum and younger brother in the back seat. The familiar journey seemed to take much longer than usual, thanks to a travelling circus on the road with us, and it seemed everyone was making an effort to keep conversation going and to make the journey feel normal and insignificant. I was trying to ignore the lump in my throat and I suspect they were all doing the same. I'll forever cherish the memory of my dad singing along to Shania Twain and getting the lyrics completely wrong. He must have known I was nervous and he was trying to put me at ease.

The clarity of my own moving day memory makes me all the more aware of how my actions and behaviour on the day will impact my daughter and how she feels. So I’ll smile (and maybe even sing some Shania songs!) as we work to transform her bare room into a beautiful home from home.

Strange September

There’s no escaping it - September is going to feel very strange. It's going to mean much more than a change of season for us. The rhythm of our home will shift, and I know I’ll notice the empty chair at the dinner table and the quieter evenings. My plan is to keep busy, busy, busy! I’ve lined up some social engagements, promised myself I’ll finally tackle a few house projects, and I’m excited to get back to writing regularly on my blog after a summer of distractions.

I know none of this will stop me from missing my girl, but I hope it will help me settle into a “new normal” while she settles into hers. I’m also reminding myself to put some simple coping strategies in place. Keeping a routine will help - making time for regular walks, proper meals (even if there are fewer of us around the table), and a bit of structure to my days. I’ll plan some check-ins with Vaila too, so she knows I’m here if she needs me but still has the space to embrace her independence.

This also feels an appropriate time to focus more on some self-care: allowing myself the odd tear, but also making space for the little things that lift me - coffee with a friend, long dog walks, maybe finding a good TV show to binge. And of course, my favourite form of self-care: planning some trips!

Support Network of Other Parents

While keeping busy should help, I'm grateful that I'm not going through this alone thanks to my support network. I'll still have my boys at home - the husband, the son and the dog so I'm not yet facing the empty nest. I know they're going to find this time strange and difficult too so we'll be adjusting to the change together.

My other huge source of comfort is my close friend who is facing the same transition with her daughter. Knowing that someone else is feeling how I am, while it doesn't take the painful feelings away, does help.

Don't despair if you're facing this on your own though. I've found some brilliant online communities where people are sharing not only their feelings but lots of practical, helpful tips about uni life and adjusting as a parent.

You can check them out here:

Postcards from Midlife

Parents of current and prospective university students in the UK

Final Thoughts

So here I am: bubble burst, emotions raw, and September looming. But maybe the bursting of the denial bubble is what I needed - a nudge to start planning not just for Vaila’s new life, but for my own next chapter too.

Because while this stage is hard - really hard - I know it’s also the start of something new, not just for Vaila but for the whole family. I owe it to all of us to be positive about the change. For all of you feeling how I'm feeling, know that you're not alone. Check out the groups above for moral support and advice or send me a message on social media. And when D-Day arrives for your offspring, take a deep breath, be kind to yourself and try to find joy for both of you in this new chapter. I'll let you know whether I manage to take my own advice!

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