For so many years, my life revolved around my children. My identity wasn’t just “Mom”—it was chauffeur, cook, counselor, cheerleader, nurse, teacher, mentor, and at times, even referee. For those of us who homeschooled, that identity was even stronger. The home wasn’t just a place to live; it was a classroom, a library, a science lab, and a safe haven where I poured my energy into making sure my children were not only cared for but also educated and prepared for the world.
And then one day, just like that, they were grown.
The transition to being an empty nester is something no one truly prepares you for. You spend decades with your days dictated by your children’s needs, only to wake up one morning and realize the nest is quiet. The house feels bigger. The schedule feels empty. And you’re left with a question that cuts to the core: Who am I now?

The Unique Emptiness After Homeschooling
For parents who homeschool, the shift can feel especially sharp. When you homeschool, your role isn’t just about parenting—it’s about being deeply involved in your child’s daily growth and education. You’re not just sending them off to school or just getting them ready for school. You’re there for the math lessons, the history discussions, the science experiments that left glitter or baking soda explosions across the kitchen counter.
You’re the one who tailored lesson plans to fit their personalities, who celebrated when reading finally “clicked,” and who carried the weight of making sure they didn’t “fall behind.” You wore the badge of responsibility proudly, because you knew homeschooling wasn’t the easiest choice, but it was the one you felt called to.
So when that chapter closes, the silence hits even harder. You don’t just lose the daily presence of your child, you lose the role of “teacher.” The part of your identity that consumed so much energy, thought, and love suddenly doesn’t have a place anymore.
I remember packing up textbooks, flipping through notebooks filled with years of memories, and feeling like I was closing a door on an entire era of my life. There was pride, of course, in seeing my kids succeed, but there was also grief. The grief of realizing that the version of me who lived inside those homeschooling years was fading into the past.

The Emotional Rollercoaster of Empty Nesting
Becoming an empty nester is often described as bittersweet, and that’s the best word I can find.
On one hand, there’s pride. Watching your children step into adulthood, whether they’re heading to college, building a career, or starting families of their own, fills you with joy. You know you did your job. You poured out everything you had, and now you get to see the fruits of those years.
But on the other hand, there’s an undeniable ache. The ache of walking by empty bedrooms. The ache of making dinner for two instead of a bustling table. The ache of silence in a house that used to be filled with laughter, squabbles, and activity.
And if I’m being honest, there’s also fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of not knowing who I am outside of motherhood. Fear of rediscovering myself and realizing I might not recognize her anymore.

Rediscovering Yourself in the Quiet
The quiet, though painful at first, can also be a gift. It gives us space to rediscover who we are outside of being a mother and teacher.
When my kids were young, I barely had time to think about what I wanted. My schedule was jam-packed with lesson planning, co-op meetings, sports practices, church activities, and everything in between. My goals and hobbies were pushed to the background, often saved for “someday.”
But when the nest empties, “someday” arrives.
The first step is asking yourself questions that you may not have asked in years, or maybe ever:
• What do I enjoy when no one else is around?
• What dreams did I set aside while raising my kids?
• What gifts or talents have been sitting dormant?
• What new passions am I curious to explore?
For me, journaling became a powerful tool. Sitting with a cup of coffee and a blank page, I began to write down what I felt, what I wanted, and even what I feared. Slowly, I uncovered pieces of myself I hadn’t touched in years.

Redefining Your Identity
One of the hardest parts of this season is redefining your identity. For decades, the answer to “Who are you?” was tied to your children. You were so-and-so’s mom, the homeschool mom, the team mom, the Bible study leader.
Now, the challenge is to find an identity that isn’t built solely on someone else’s needs.
That doesn’t mean you stop being a mother. That role never ends. But it does mean you begin to see yourself as more than that. You allow yourself to expand.
Maybe you’re an artist who set down the paintbrush years ago. Maybe you’re a writer with stories waiting to be told. Maybe you’re an entrepreneur ready to finally build that business. Or maybe you’re simply a woman ready to rest, breathe, and find joy in the little things again.

Healing From the Guilt
Let’s be honest: it’s not easy to shift focus back to yourself. As mothers, we’re conditioned to put everyone else first. When the kids are grown, investing in yourself can feel selfish.
But here’s the truth: it isn’t selfish, it’s necessary.
Your children need to see you thrive in this next season. They need to know that life doesn’t end after parenting. By living fully, you show them what resilience, growth, and joy look like. You model that it’s okay to reinvent yourself at any age.
And you deserve it. You poured out your heart for years. Now it’s time to pour back into yourself.

Practical Ways to Transition
Here are some ideas to help navigate the empty nest season, especially if homeschooling has been a huge part of your life:
1 Create a memory project. Put together scrapbooks or photo albums of your homeschooling years. It allows you to honor the past while creating something tangible to pass down.
2 Reconnect with old hobbies. Did you love reading historical novels? Knitting? Gardening? Painting? Pick them back up.
3 Try something new. Sign up for a class, cooking, photography, foreign language, pottery, or anything that sparks curiosity.
4 Prioritize health. Take walks, try yoga, or explore new recipes. Caring for your body helps clear your mind and re-energize your spirit.
5 Rebuild relationships. Spend intentional time with your spouse or friends. Reconnect with people outside of the homeschooling world.
6 Explore new callings. Volunteer, start a side business, write a book, or mentor other young moms. Let your experience bless others.
7 Dream forward. Make a vision board of what you want for this new season. Think about travel, creative projects, or personal growth.

The Faith Perspective
For me, faith has been the anchor in this transition. When I felt lost, I leaned on the truth that my identity was never meant to be only in being a mom. It was always in being a child of God.
Motherhood was a calling for a season, but God still has new plans, new purposes, and new dreams for me in this next chapter. That perspective shifted everything. Instead of feeling like life was over, I began to see it as just beginning again, this time with wisdom, freedom, and space to grow in new directions.

Embracing Who You Are Becoming
The empty nest doesn’t mean the end of your story, it means the start of a new chapter.
Yes, the transition is hard. Yes, the silence can feel overwhelming. Yes, there’s grief in letting go of the life you once knew. But there’s also an opportunity. Opportunity to rediscover, to heal, to dream, and to become the woman you were created to be.
Being an empty nester isn’t about losing yourself; it’s about finding yourself again. The version of you that has been patiently waiting through the noise and busyness of motherhood now has a chance to rise.
So take a deep breath. Give yourself permission to step into this new season with curiosity and hope. You’re not just someone’s mom anymore—you’re a whole person, with gifts, passions, and dreams that matter.
And who knows? The best chapters of your life may still be ahead.

To My Fellow Empty Nesters: If you’ve homeschooled or simply devoted your entire world to your children, know this: you are not alone in the transition. You are seen, valued, and worthy of building a life that excites you in this next season. What’s one dream or passion you want to rediscover now that your nest is quieter?