Parenting Through Transition
There’s no handbook for this part. Helping your children say goodbye to a life they don’t fully understand they’re leaving.
Rory knows we get to go on a plane to “Rory and Lyra’s new house” but the reality of what that means is still out of reach for him. I feel both relief and heartbreak in that. He asks the same questions over and over, and we’ve learned consistency in our answers gives him some peace. But during his saddest moments, he always asks to go home to “Rory’s House” and to see his pup, Arlo. Feelings I too am still trying to work through. Lyra, in true two year old fashion, is mostly just along for the ride. But I’ve noticed her needing us more, getting attached in small ways. Her way of saying, “I feel it too.”
Bedtime has been harder. More tears, more stalling, more requests for extra goodnights to Grandma and Grandpa, more lingering snuggles. Both kids are seeking us out more, not just for structure, but for comfort. And what surprises me is how much I find myself seeking them, too. In the small moments — a longer-than-usual hug, a whispered “I love you” as they race past, the way I linger in their room hoping they’ll say, “Mama, lay with me?” one more time when it’s bed time.
We’ve found that routine, especially at night has helped the kids (and us) cope. We spend our days at parks, running around Grandma and Grandpa’s, the science center, and zoo. Evenings are spent trying to follow a routine of bath, books, snuggles, and sleep. On the hard days, we surrender to movie afternoons and quiet indoor play. These are the kinds of days I might have once felt guilty about. Now I know that sometimes, surviving the day and whatever that entails, is the most loving thing we can do for each other.
Goodbye rituals have also become important parts of our move and grieving process. The day we moved out, we said to Rory and Lyra that it was time to give our love to the house and say goodbye. Rory took it to heart and proceeded to go into each room to say his goodbyes saying:
“Goodbye Rory’s room”
“Goodbye mama and daddy’s bed”
“Goodbye bathtub.”
And Lyra followed right behind him.
It was beautiful and heavy. A goodbye to his favorite places in the home that raised them. In the place that held their first baby steps, first “mamas” and “dadas”. Where they grew and where we grew into parents, too.
The hardest part of all this? Trying to show up for our kids and each other, while also dealing with our own feelings. Like most people, we tend to shelf our own grief to take care of others. And sometimes, we forget to return to it. I’ve worked really hard over the years to unlearn that habit, but in this season of change, I’ve found myself slipping. There have been outbursts. Guilt. Fear. Thankfully, there’s also been understanding and love.
Myles and I have had to lean on each other in the best and messiest ways. We’re learning (again) to listen, to communicate even when we’re tired or overwhelmed. We remind each other that we’re a team and this feels big because it is big. But it’s also temporary. And, like Chili says in the Bluey episode, “The Show":
“Have a cry, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep going.”
We’re all figuring this out as we go. Grieving and growing at the same time. Some days, we get it right. Some days, we won’t. There have been more apologies than I can count, more quiet moments sitting side by side in the thick of hard feelings. Those moments, the ones where love shows up quietly, are what carry me through.
Amidst all the grief, there’s also a thrum of excitement. Rory can’t wait to start preschool. He asks us everyday if it’s time yet and if he can put his shoes on. Lyra’s excitement can be found in the sky - excitedly awaiting her first plane ride, and is thrilled for extra Auntie Hannah time during our first week in Zagreb. And Myles and I? We’re buzzing with anticipation for the new adventures and exploration that awaits us, both in our new jobs at AISZ and in Zagreb and beyond!
This last month has been a great reminder that it’s okay to not have everything figured out. That we’re doing this for the first time too - not just as parents, but as people. Which means giving ourselves the same love and patience we give our kids. Knowing we don’t have to do it perfectly, just together.
One day, one bedtime, one goodbye at a time.
