I did not know how I would physically feel my heart ache.
I did not know I would have so many tears just quickly streaming down my face.
I did not know that those tears would spring to my eyes whenever anyone asks me how I'm doing...or when I'm writing about these first days.
I thought that it would be more like sending her off to camp.
I thought knowing that I would hear from her regularly and during normal daytime hours would even, maybe, make it easier than camp. I mean, she will even come home for breaks more frequently than the 7 weeks she is gone for camp.
Rarely, but every once in a while, someone else's words on instragram will perfectly capture what I'm feeling. It happened Tuesday morning. A mom who was a little bit ahead of me, had moved several daughters to college and had the perspective to put the feelings into words.
I'm going to put her words in this space. This is whitneyflemingwrites. These are Whitney's words, not mine.For those of you entering the drop off season, let me talk to you about momancholy.
After dropping my first daughter off at college, I felt a little numb. The adrenaline of the trip had worn off, and I was struggling to get back into my routine. I wasn't sitting around crying (although I teared up a few times) but I wasn't feeling back to myself yet either.
I just felt off.
When a friend texted to check in on me, I told her I was physically drained an emotionally spent. My daughter was doing well, but I was struggling more than I thought I would with this transition. She responded, "Oh of course you feel that way. It's called grief."
But grief felt too heavy of a word to use for the situation, one where I am also feeling pride and joy, hope and gratitude, love and heartbreak. I was thrilled that my daughter was adjusting so well and a little guilty that I was so sad she was gone.
As I discussed these feeling online and with my local friends, a few people told me that they knew exactly what I was experiencing, and it was called momancholy.
And I can't stop thinking that it's exactly how I felt during this time. How I still feel during drop off season.
Momancholy, like it's derivative word melancholy, is a depression of spirits, feeling pensive for what was, an abnormal state of sadness. It is so many feelings rolled up in one.
My life has been a whirlwind these last 20 years. They have been so full of baking and buying and attending and watching and rushing and playing and fixing and consoling and loving.
It all went so fast, and then one day you are standing alone in your kitchen with one (less) to feed, no (less) messes to clean, no (one less) bodies to hug.
And you wonder, how did I get here? Did I miss it all in the doing? What happens now?
And as you wipe away the tears, you know it went by in a blink, but you were there for it.
It's grief and gratitude, joy and heartbreak, love and sorrow.
I know I'm not any different. It's the life of every parent.
It's Momancholy.
It's not quite grief, but it's not nothing either.
How did I survive sending my babies out into this world?
The answer is simple: I am just trying to find my way in a life that is so different than it was just yesterday.
And it is exhausting and it is draining and I am spent.
It's not quite grief. It's not a tragedy. You will survive.
But it's not nothing either.
It's Momancholy.

















































