The part no one tells you.
It’s been two weeks since our oldest daughter last called our home her home. Two weeks since she’s slept in her room, in her bed, and called this house her home. Tomorrow is two weeks since we moved her into her dorm, and our lives changed forever.
I haven’t been able to sit down and write in two weeks (and not just because I was horribly sick last week and had no energy to do so). It’s been two weeks since I’ve been able to begin processing how I feel, what I want next out of life, and how to embrace this change.
I’m sure people are tired of hearing about it, but I don’t care. Stop listening. Move on. Tell me to shut up. Because one day, when those people are in the same place I’m in right now, I’ll be there from the start. Because I was once where those people were…empathetic for them, but with absolutely no ability to understand what they’re going through. Now that I’m experiencing it, I’ll be the first one there when their own children leave home because I know what they need, and I now know how to provide that.
Move-in Day Advice
My advice for move-in day at the University of South Florida is to pay to move in a day early. That’s what we did, and it was the best decision we’ve made. There was no one there. We parked, grabbed a cart, loaded the cart and the dolly we brought, and moved our daughter into her dorm in under 20 minutes and two trips to the car. There was not a soul in sight all day long. It was easy, seamless, and we never encountered any elevator lines, parking issues, traffic, or slow walkers.
But…here’s what you need to bring that you might not think to bring:
A dolly or push cart
Large painter’s tape (you cannot hang things or use command hooks on the paint in the dorms, so you have to use painter’s tape and put your command hooks on those)
A tool kit
Trash bags
Cleaning supplies to wipe everything down
Scissors
….and tissues.
How it Felt
Move-in day morning, loading the cars to drive down to Tampa was a lot of work, and I spent most of it crying by myself in between carrying loads to the cars. I was sad. My stomach was in knots. My heart hurt. I didn’t want to do it, but I also wanted to make sure that it was a day filled with fun and memories made for our daughter.
But let me tell you something…nothing prepares you to say goodbye to your child. Nothing.
You can tell me I’m lucky she’s only an hour away all you want. I know she is. But that doesn’t make the moment I hugged her goodbye after dinner that night any less difficult. It doesn’t make it easier to say goodbye.
I cried. And cried. And cried.
The drive home? I’ve never felt worse in my life. I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I felt as though my heart was literally breaking into a million pieces, and I’d never feel happy again. I felt like my entire world came crashing down around me, and I could not stop crying. Thinking about it brings it all back.
That drive home?
It’s not easy.
It’s actually the worst moment of my life.
But, fear not, because it does get worse.
The moment we pulled into the garage that night and walked into our house where our three younger kids were waiting, it went from horrible to excruciating seeing our kids crying. Our daughter, Charlotte, was hysterical. She cried herself through her homework that night for hours, through dinner, her shower, and in bed. She cried herself to sleep the next night, too. This went on for days.
It’s not just us losing our daughter. It’s our kids losing their sister, and it’s devastating to witness their little hearts breaking like that.
Move-in day is bittersweet because it’s painful. Painful in a way you cannot even fathom unless you’ve been through it. It hurts.
There are Good Moments
If I can find the silver lining in Addy’s move, it’s that I’ve never felt closer to her. I hear from her all the time. I talk to her more than ever. She calls and FaceTimes the kids. She texts regularly. She checks in. She’s been home twice. She’s bonded more than ever with her siblings. It’s obvious she misses us, too.
I Spend a Lot More Time on My Phone
….being a stalker. Watching her on Life360 to make sure she’s okay. Checking TikTok to see if she’s posted a video so I can see her face. Looking for signs she’s happy and not completely miserable and missing us.
And I’ve texted her already to tell her I don’t care how much we paid for her to live there. If she decides tomorrow that living away from home isn’t something she’s ready for yet, I’ll be there in one hour, and I’ll single-handedly pack her belongings and move every fucking thing back home for her by my damn self.
She has her entire life to live away from home and experience adulthood. If she realizes at 18 that she’s just not ready for that yet, that’s all right with me.
I Feel a Hole in My Heart
Missing her is a constant. I’m so proud of her. I’m so happy for her. I’m so excited for her. But GOD…I miss her. My heart has a permanent hole in it. Because nothing prepares you for the day your child leaves home and is no longer ‘yours’ to keep.
She is so loved by this family.
Missed.
So, the real truth about moving your child into her own home is this: It hurts. It sucks. It hurts more. You cry. A lot. And there’s nothing you can do about it.
I’m feeling lost right now. I’m not sure what I want anymore. I’m not sure what life should look like for me from this point forward as I learn to live without her in my life every single day but also learn how to be a long-distance mom to one and an everyday mom to three. I’m struggling. I’m moody and easily upset.
I know it will get easier. I know it won’t always feel this way. But right now, I’m in a transition period that I hate, and I’m okay to admit that it’s a struggle for me. For all of us. I can be proud and excited and happy and heartbroken at the same time, and I’m giving myself that time to feel. I’m not rushing through it because everyone else wants me to get over it. I’m not rushing through my feelings because they’re my feelings. I can’t change them, but I can learn to live with them, and that will take some time.
Tiffany Raiford 