My baby isn’t my baby anymore…Prepping for college as a parent
This week, I sat down with my son’s college counselor for the last time before his junior year ends. He’s 17. My oldest of 2 that I carried. And although he’s beginning his senior experience soon, he’s still my baby.
Much like his mother (me), he doesn’t want to attend college in Connecticut – and that stresses me alllllll the way out now that I’m on this side of the decision.
Years ago, when UCLA was at the top of my list, my parents laughingly suggested that I must be referring to the “University of Lower Alabama.” After all, that was their home state. The place where many of their friends and relatives still resided. They wanted to encourage me to go somewhere safe, where I wouldn’t totally be alone, but also to allow me to gain some sense independence.
How and ever, this kid right here! He doesn’t want to go where any relatives or friends reside (except the 2 possibilities in Texas – which is oh so far away). His list includes schools in New York, Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, Florida and Colorado. What the heck kid? What are you trying to do to me? I need to be able to see you. Granted the schools in the northeast aren’t too bad, but anywhere else may as well be Timbuktu.
I’m glad he feels comfortable and independent enough to want to leave the nest, but I didn’t mean to actually raise him to want to go now that the time has come.
I’m nervous releasing my young black man into the world. Aside from police and racism, I’m scared to not be able to help him when he’s just not feeling well. Who’s going to annoy me when I’m feeling sad? Who’s going to eat all the snacks 2 days after I go grocery shopping?
I look at him, and I still see my baby. Is he really ready to go out into the world? I mean, I knew the time would come, but why did it have to come so soon? Just yesterday, I was pushing him in the grocery cart, booping his nose as he let out loud belly laughs.
But the reality is, he’s a young man. He has facial hair. He’s taller than me, and he’s interested in girls with butts and boobs…*insert eyeroll here.*
So what’s my plan to cope with my baby leaving the nest in the next year or so? To be honest, I ain’t got one…But I asked ChatGPT, and here’s what she (yes she, and her name is Chatajah) had to say:
Grieve the change without treating it like it’s a tragedy: Your child leaving for college is a success story, but it’s also a loss of a familiar season of life. Both things can be true at once. You can be proud, excited, sad, nostalgic and terrified in the same afternoon. Human emotions love multitasking.
Start practicing now: If he's leaving next year:
Let him handle more of his own appointments, paperwork and responsibilities.
Give him room to make small mistakes while you're still nearby.
Gradually shift from "manager" to "consultant."
College is often harder on parents when they've spent years being the CEO of their child's life.
Picture what you're moving toward: Many parents focus only on what they're losing.
Instead, ask:
What hobbies have I put aside?
What goals have I delayed?
What friendships need attention?
What adventures do I want in my next chapter?
Your life isn't ending when he leaves. The shape of it is changing.
Create new traditions: Before he leaves, consider:
A monthly lunch date
A shared photo album
A weekly (or daily is what I’m aiming for) phone call
A favorite restaurant visit whenever he's home
Having planned points of connection can ease anxiety.
Don't expect college to erase your relationship: The relationship changes, but it doesn't disappear. Many parents discover that once the daily parenting responsibilities fade, they actually enjoy a deeper adult relationship with their child. You start getting opinions instead of permission requests- sometimes. Assuming the teenager has not been replaced by a creature that communicates only through one-word texts and memes (although I’ll appreciate any communication I can get.)
Take care of yourself during senior year: Senior year can become a countdown clock if you're not careful. Try to:
Attend the events.
Take the photos.
Be present.
Avoid spending every moment thinking, "This is the last time..."
When we're busy mourning a moment before it's gone, we often miss the moment itself.
One thought to keep close: Your job was never to keep your son with you forever (I don’t like this at all). Your job was to help him become someone who could leave and build a life of his own. The fact that he's getting ready to do that is evidence that something went right. It may still make you cry in the Wal-mart (Chatajah originally said Target, but we don’t support them) dorm-supplies aisle. Those giant packs of extra-long twin sheets have reduced stronger people to tears. Human civilization remains baffling.
Ok, Chatajah, you might be on to something, but this is easier said (or written about by a robot) than done. Can I just make a support group for parents who have kids leaving the nest? Or better yet, can I just pack up and follow him wherever he goes? But then what will I do when my daughter wants to go somewhere different? Is cloning an option? I’m just not ready to let go, but I’m going to have to put stress aside and support him as he becomes a man. My heart is palpitating just thinking about it.
Let me go do some stress-relieving exercises. Maybe some yoga or grounding exercises may help. I’ll be back next week…Good luck out here y’all. This parenting junk is not for the weak.
If you're feeling overwhelmed, you're not alone. Support from a therapist can help you navigate these emotions and find practical ways to care for yourself. The clinicians at New Chapter Counseling Services specialize in supporting women through life transitions, pregnancy, postpartum, and everyday mental health challenges.