What I Didn’t Expect About the Empty Nest

One year into empty nesting, I find myself wondering who changed more—my children or me.

It's a close call.

What I didn't realize before this season began is how profoundly those of us who stay behind transform when the nest empties.

The children leave and grow, evolve, and live into new independent autonomous versions of themselves.

Something equally profound unfolds in those of us who remain.

This week, my youngest son is “traveling for business” to Orlando and San Diego representing the start-up where he's been working. Over the summer, he lived on his own, landed this job, commuted into San Francisco, and handled all the "adulting" logistics. He fed himself, figured things out, and called only once or twice for guidance. Now he calls “to check in.”

This is Liam 3.0… maybe 4.0. He even moved himself into his fall college living situation before his trips, ordering his own bed and mattress.

It's astonishing to witness. I am a bit incredulous and immensely proud.

My other sons have also grown in ways I never could have predicted. One runs his own company at 25. The other is about to welcome a second child while working for his brother's business.

These shifts are not just milestones. They are markers of a new era. An era I have not planned for.

No one tells you what it's like to parent adult children.

Or how it feels to shift from being the daily navigator to a rarely consulted consultant—one whose advice is sometimes requested and then promptly ignored.

It's exciting and awe-inspiring. And also unnerving.

True to form, I intermittently wonder: When will the other shoe drop?

I find myself remembering our time all together with wistfulness.

Now, when we gather, it's a choice. A plan. A visit. One that requires intention and effort. And it carries a different kind of connection and joy.

Interestingly over the past year, all my relationships have changed- not just the ones with my children.

Empty nesting isn’t a solitary shift. It reshapes the entire ecosystem of your life.

This transition has asked me to grow. To stretch and to extend grace, especially inward.

At some point along the way, I made a conscious decision to start observing.

To watch and learn from my kids, not as a strategy to stay connected, but as a practice of curiosity. It began as a tether, but it's become something much deeper. Watching and intentionally learning from my sons this year has expanded my worldview. They have become my unexpected teachers about how things work in 2025.

Not long ago, at a Women in Medicine event, a physician introduced her daughter and told her, "These women will be your mentors." I paused, wondering if that were still true.

Perhaps, I thought, my children are my mentors now.

As year two of this empty nest journey begins, I sense more evolution ahead. There's so little said about this season of parenting and relationships.

Few maps to consult. This next generation doesn’t use maps anyway.

I plan to remain curious, watchful, and open. I wonder what’s coming next.