This essay is part of the Between Chapters project, inspired by the book. What chapters are you between? How did you get from one chapter to another? Share your story here.
What Chapter Are You…
Leaving:
Mother birding.
In:
An empty nest.
Entering:
Stabilizing the twigs of our nest as the weight distribution shifts.
Over a recent holiday break, one of my college-age daughters showed me a new TikTok trend in which young women, often in their twenties and not yet mothers, post videos of themselves immersed in an adventure or significant life experience. The videos begin with an enthusiastic, “Hey kids, it’s your mom.”
To my daughter’s dismay, I first had to find my reading glasses to watch them. Then I proceeded to play the videos over and over. Each one struck me: I felt a sense of wonder, and maybe a small pang of envy, at what these vibrant young women were doing in their highlight reels before motherhood.
Was this declaration a way to manifest a future identity as a mother, or was it a rebellion against motherhood’s anticipated constraints, a way to relish the adventure even more?
I was moved by their ability to mark the moment, knowing age and the passage of time were beyond their control. They were preserving proof of the present, even as their future was unfolding.
Sitting at my computer in January 2026, after my nest had just emptied again after winter break, I easily recognized the distance between me, a midlife mom with four grown children, and those young, adventurous women who didn’t know what their future as mothers might look like. Back then I would’ve said, “Hey kids, it’s your mom. I did exist before you came into my life. I did adventure.”
Now, like many of my friends, my emotions are constantly teetering on the rim of my cup, often spilling over with an overwhelming feeling of fulfillment or loss. It is a cycle that seems to be, not surprisingly, in sync with the home-from-college calendar. The revolving door often feels like an acceleration of time toward an inevitable ending, creating an urge within me to document and mark moments, too. Not necessarily with TikTok highlight reels, but with old-fashioned words on the blank page, words that won’t disappear with a tap or a scroll.
So, “Hey kids, it’s your mom.” Not only to my own kids, but also to all of the young women hoping to be mothers one day: please know that I, too, once paraglided off mountains in Switzerland before there was any way to have video proof. You will just have to believe me. And although I am old enough to remember when tick-tock referred to the two literal hands moving between the minutes on a clock, I can confidently confirm in writing that being a mom is my greatest, most fulfilling adventure yet.
To be continued. TikTok, tick-tock.
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