I call it BS.

In June 2009, an article in the magazine O proclaimed:

Research is confirming what many mothers have been discovering—that "empty nest" syndrome isn't so empty after all. These days, the classic description of lingering depression, apathy, and loss of identity ("Who am I if I'm not taking care of the kids?") is no longer typical.

I'm calling it BS. Bull. Shit.

The author claimed that women had more things to do outside of the home and thus were not tied to the needs of their children and husbands and home. That they were fulfilled in careers and their own life's pursuits.

Well, yes. But not completely.

I worked hard and long to graduate from seminary, to learn how to do exegesis and preach and pray and care for my congregation. I can write a mean paper in Turabian, I tell ya. And I can hold my own with the chauvinist pastor crowd. I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am called to ministry, and that the Spirit works through me -- and in spite of me -- on a regular basis.

But the crowning jewel of my adult life, outside of a man I deeply love, are the two lovely young women we have raised to think, speak and reason for themselves. I am incredibly proud of them. And incredibly lonely without them around.

When the first one went away to college, I cried. I missed her. I would go in her room and hug her pillow and weep.  Her sister was sad. Her dad was quiet and introspective. The cats missed her, too. (I don't think the goldfish gave a damn... but you never know.) Every time she was home, things were great. She was off with her friends, less in the house with us. But she was happy. So we were happy.

Our older daughter moved to her apartment for her new job, and I sobbed like I did that freshman year. Then our "baby" went to college for her freshman year, and I felt like someone had pulled my heart out through my nose. I could not stop crying as I drove home. (Not exactly the safest way to drive -- and yes, I did pull over in a parking lot and cry... then snuffle back on the highway.)

Quite frankly, the last month has been hell.

My husband is struggling, but he has always been very matter-of-fact and principled with his emotions. While I have learned not to splat my heart all over everyone around me, I do feel things very deeply and I had to struggle with saying good-bye without (too much) blubbering. (Yes, in Myers-Briggs, he is a "T" and I am an "F".) Quite honestly, I warned my daughters, "I know I'm going to cry" -- and I did. But I tried not to have the shoulder-heaving, gut-wrenching sobs... just the river of tears on my face. And a red nose and red eyes.

In short, I think this article was written as a bit of self-justifying pablum. And I have not found it to be true. It wasn't true with daughter #1, and it isn't true with daughter #2, 5 years later.

But here's what I am learning in the short month (3.5 weeks if you must know) that I've gone through this for the second time.

• It's OK to grieve. Really. You love these kids. If their leaving doesn't effect you emotionally, then there's problems.
• It's OK to have a hard time dealing with the mundane and the simple tasks that never bothered you before. You will be distracted. Your sleep will be interrupted. Be thoughtful and careful about things -- really and truly, pay attention to things like pumping gas or putting your purse in the car.
• It is more than OK to find someone else who is also struggling (like another mom) and check in with each other every day or so. Don't be maudlin. But do be honest.
• And it's OK to let your eyes well up with tears when some (well-meaning) person asks you, "do you miss your girls?" And say, "Yes, yes I do." Then I learn who understands and will give me a hug, and who is a cold rock. In other words, I don't expect everyone to understand. And I avoid the ones who have been the most shaming or condescending because frankly, I don't need their shit.

I'm plugging away here. Studying, preaching, reading, greeting, writing, and coming home to the household stuff. But I really do miss my kids.

And yes, I still have tears well up for no reason. At all. Like now. Dammit.