Rediscovering Myself in the Quiet: A Week Without My Child

I Forgot What It Felt Like to Ask, “What Do I Want?”

This past week, something unusual—and a little scary—happened:
I was without my son for several days.

My in-laws, who live a few hours away and both work as teachers, had been offering all summer to take him for a visit. At three years old, he's a busy little person, full of energy and big feelings, and while the offer was generous, I wasn’t quite ready. I’d always smile and say, “Thank you,” then gently change the subject.

But as summer began to wind down, a logistical opportunity popped up. We were planning a visit midweek, and instead of making the trip there and back again just for a short stay, we found ourselves wondering—

what if he just stayed with them for a few days?

The Drop-Off and the Quiet That Followed

We decided to go for it—with a healthy amount of hesitation and anxiety.

Thankfully, our son is no stranger to staying with family. He’s visited frequently, and has formed loving, secure bonds with his grandparents. He’s familiar with their home and gets utterly spoiled with attention, treats, and affection.

That trust—the kind that’s only built through years of showing up—made it possible for me to lean in, however nervously, and let go.

That weekend, only my husband made the trip to drop him off. And just like that, I had a whole weekend to myself (well, me and the dog).

Productivity, Then... Stillness

At first, I threw myself into productivity.

I finally tackled all the little things that had been sitting on the back burner for months. I cleaned, organized, crossed things off my mental checklist.

And it felt so good.

But then...the weekend ended.

When my husband came back, we found ourselves in a totally new reality:
At home together, without our child.

It felt surreal. At times we relished the freedom—sleeping in, quiet meals, uninterrupted conversations, but then the silence would settle in and we’d look at each other and say:

“I miss him.”

It was honestly like that scene in Tangled when Rapunzel leaves her tower for the first time—swinging between guilt and glee, panic and exhilaration.

Alone for the First Time in Years

As the work week began, I stayed busy enough to keep the emotions at bay.

But midweek, I had a day off. My husband was at the office, and I found myself home—completely alone.

And I didn’t know what to do.

I stood in front of the TV with the remote in hand, and thought:

What do I want to watch?
Not what he wants to watch, not what we watch as a family, not what we put on in the background while multitasking...
But me. Just me.

That simple question—what do I want?—landed deeper than I expected.
I had forgotten what it felt like to ask it.

The Hike That Brought Me Back to Myself

I ended up taking my dog on a hike—just the two of us, on a rugged trail I wouldn’t normally bring a toddler on. It was steep and challenging, and blessedly cool outside.

The whole loop took about three hours.
Three hours of just walking, breathing, thinking.

And in that space, some clarity came in.

I thought about how deeply I missed my son. I also thought about how necessary this solitude was. How in becoming a mother, so much of my identity had slowly shifted, reoriented around someone else.

And that’s not a bad thing—but it’s a real thing.

That quiet hike gave me the space to ask:

Who am I now?
Not just a mother, not just a wife.
Who am I, really?

And to my surprise, the answer wasn’t scary.
It was grounding.

Still Me

Yes, motherhood is hard. It’s harder than I ever imagined.
It’s a role that asks everything of you—your time, your energy, your body, your heart.

And yet, through the mess and exhaustion:

I am still here.
A little older, a lot more tired—but still me.

And I’m not doing it alone.

I’m so grateful for the people who make up our “village”—the grandparents, the friends, the family members who love our son and support us. I’m grateful for the trust we've built with them over time. I’m grateful that I could lean on that trust, allow myself to be vulnerable, and take this space.

Because in doing so, I found a little piece of myself again.

And I think that’s something every mother deserves.

Want to Reconnect With Yourself Too?

If you're feeling the need to reconnect with yourself, grow your village, or just breathe a little deeper...

We invite you to join our next

Pregnancy & Postpartum Group — starting late August.

It’s a space to be seen, supported, and to try on a little vulnerability in good company.

You’re not alone—and you don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.

Come as you are. Let’s do this together.
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