November 09, 2005

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Palo Alto Online

Grief and relief

by Alexandria Rocha

ancy Shepherd's youngest daughter, Rebecca, 20, is studying economics and photography in Italy. Her other three adult children are building lives in various corners of the globe, and Shepherd, 51, couldn't be happier. She exercises when she wants, knits, and has picked up an activity she let go 25 years ago -- reading . Books, too, not five-paragraph essays.

Across town, Liz Carson is counting the days to Thanksgiving when her son, 18-year-old Brandan Parsons, returns home. Although he has come back three times since leaving for college in Tempe, Ariz. a few months ago, his visits keep Carson going. She is trying to remember what pizza topping she liked before Brandan took over the ordering, as many teenagers do. And on a larger scale, she is struggling with how to spend her time now that it's no longer consumed by the PTA and other school-centered activities.

"I'm trying to get a life," she said, sitting in her north Palo Alto home's kitchen a few days before Halloween, wearing an AU sweatshirt and black leggings dotted with holiday skeletons.

Few events can be more emotional in parents' life than their youngest child leaving home. Experts say it doesn't matter if the teen moves around the corner or across the country to get married, start a job or attend college -- there will inevitably be life-altering and difficult changes for parents. It also doesn't matter if mother and father are full-time professionals or stay-at-home parents.

"Everyone who cares about their children has some symptoms," said Douglas S. Rait, director of the Stanford University Couples and Family Therapy Clinic.

In Palo Alto, the empty-nest syndrome does not play out predictably. With so many parents intent on their children succeeding -- a desire that manifests as early as playing Mozart in the infant's nursery -- many would assume the syndrome's downside is far worse here than in less-affluent, less-active areas. Although it's true for some parents, there is more to the story. For some, the empty nest represents a huge sigh of relief -- and an opportunity to focus on the parents' own wants and needs.

"The parents of our generation have been labeled 'helicopter parents.' You're so involved in the excitement and anxiety that your child is going to have this fabulous future," said Natalie Caine, a Los Angeles-based expert on the empty-nest syndrome. "Then it all goes to zero. You hear the silence. You're required to look at who you are beyond parenting."

The term "empty nest" was coined in the '70s, but beyond that there is little information on who said it first or why, said Caine. It was initially introduced to address the feelings of depression, sadness and grief that women felt when their children left home. Although there is no hard research on how long it can last, Caine said a grieving period of 18 months has been anecdotally common among her clients.

About four years ago, Caine, 55, started Empty Nest Support, a Web site with resources and chat forums for parents in various stages of the syndrome. At the time, her daughter was a senior in high school and Caine knew she didn't want to go through the experience alone.

Before long, the site was getting thousands of hits a day and men and women were logging on to share their empty-nest stories. Caine, a speech and language therapist who has led women's groups for 20 years, thought the site would only last that year and maybe her daughter's freshman year at college. She now holds teleconferences every few months, hosts regular empty-nest groups, and continues to check the site daily. There were too many parents who needed the resources.

"That's one of the key issues: Don't do this piece alone. You can really educate and support each other so that you're not dumping onto your kids," Caine said. (See sidebar for tips on how to cope.)

Carson -- an attorney and an agent with Coldwell Banker Real Estate Corporation -- was thrilled to hear about Caine's Web site. She cries and calls and e-mails Brandan often. The two have an agreement that if Carson can't contact him after 24 hours, she has permission to start worrying.

Carson's symptoms of sadness and emptiness started about one year ago, at the beginning of Brandan's senior year. Caine, in fact, said it's common for parents to feel it even earlier.

"I started to feel that every day was very precious," Carson said. "I knew I wouldn't have that again. I cried a lot."

That year, Carson drove Brandan to school as often as he allowed. During the day, she would volunteer in Palo Alto High School's guidance office, and the two would typically go to lunch when the school day ended.

With Carson's husband, Jon, highly involved in his career, mother and son spent a lot of time at the movies. They enjoyed each other's company and laughed while grading flicks. ("Door in the Floor" garnered an "A" from both, while "Man of the House" was an easy "F.")

"We're very close. He tells me a lot of things I don't think other parents get to hear," Carson said.

Graduation came and went, and in mid-August, the two drove to Tempe and Brandan checked into the dorms. While Jon flew down for a few days, Carson stayed a week. She met his roommate and most of the other students on his floor and memorized his class schedule. The two only saw each other about three times that week to grab dinner, but it helped Carson deal with the separation.

This school year was the first time in 30 years that Carson did not attend a back-to-school night. (She also has a 35-year-old daughter, Heather Ledgerwood, who is married with two children.) Carson nearly went to one anyway. She sleeps in now that she doesn't take Brandan to school and is trying to teach Jon the movie grading system.

The television is now off more than it's on. There is less junk food in the house. Carson takes out the trash bins.

"I want him to grow up, but it's tough. You kind of feel a little crazy sometimes. How could I have made my life so around my kids? How could I not know what I want on my pizza or what am I going to do with these extra moments?" she said.

Caine applauds parents like Carson. Too many parents, she said, have an unnecessary sense of embarrassment about their empty-nest syndrome. They don't want to appear sappy or weak. In reality, the best way to deal with such feelings is to bring them out in the open as soon as possible, she said.

"I want people to know they're not alone," Caine said.

Since the empty-nest syndrome became widely accepted, doctors have learned that dismal feelings aren't the only emotions that arise, said Rait, who is also a clinical associate professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford. Many parents today are embracing their empty nests, he said.

Some "enter a new stage of life that may present certain possibilities -- maybe more romance -- and pursue interests and opportunities that may have been unavailable," he said.

Nancy Shepherd, the mother who has time to read, is a prime example of this side the empty nest.

Her four children -- Rachael, 25; Paul, 24; Danny, 22; and Rebecca, 20 -- have spread out far and wide, giving Shepherd and her husband, Mark, a reason to visit New York, Washington, D.C., Southern California and Europe. Shepherd has reconnected with her friends from boarding high school in St. Louis and is able to give more time to philosophy and history than before. (Mark, 52, bought a motorcycle and went on a long ride through Northern California.)

"I get to think about me now. That's new to me," said Shepherd, who has also discovered that she hates grocery shopping.

Cathie Foster -- whose only child, Matthew, 18, is now a freshman at the University of Oregon, Eugene -- is also enjoying her freedom. Foster, 54, has decided to remodel her family's three-bedroom Greenwood Avenue home, where they have lived since 1983.

"I'm trying to get over that look you have when you have kids. That time-worn look. I'm trying to upgrade now," she said.

Foster is also staying busy with the last stages of construction on a second home she and her husband Mike, 59, are building in Carmel Valley. She just selected some 40-foot-tall trees for the landscape.

She has also joined the board of trustees at Mid-Peninsula High School in Menlo Park, where Matthew graduated; may get a part-time job at the Stanford Shopping Center for the holidays; and keeps company with the family's three pets, Ruffers and Lindy, two curly-coated retrievers, and Beckers, a big orange-and-white cat. Foster is also busy making Matthew a quilt out of old T-shirts, an idea from her close friend, Carson.

"I'm staying connected to him by sharing stories with people who knew him and people who are interested in how he's doing," said Foster, who was a stay-at-home mom until late September when Matthew moved north.

Unlike Carson, however, not much has changed in Foster's daily routine. She has had plenty of preparation for her son's departure. When he was 7 years old, Foster said, Matthew stood with his hand on his hip and stated his intention to attend sleep-away camp whether she liked it or not. She was physically ill the entire time. But summers passed, and it got easier.

When the trio flew to Oregon, Foster was ready. But when Matthew told her she couldn't call him, her calm demeanor was rattled.

"He was being so adamant about severing all ties, and I had a hard time with that. But I kept telling myself that it really wouldn't happen. In my parallel universe that wasn't going to happen. That got me through dropping him off," she said. "The first night I was home he told me how to sign up for instant messaging."

The two now instant message about every other night.

For Shepherd, it's the calm after the storm. She recalls the time one of her daughters told her at 7 a.m. that she needed enough towels and Windex for students to wash car windows for teacher-appreciation week.

"That's how it is, times four, all the way through high school. You respond to the kids' needs sort of like a knee jerk, and so you've pushed yourself aside," Shepherd said.

"You just try to get it done by hook or by crook because that's what parents do, and then all that stuff goes away. It's like I'm busier now with my life, but then on the other hand, I'm also trying to pick up where I left off."

Staff Writer Alexandria Rocha can be reached arocha@paweekly.com.

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