When the Nest Feels Too Quiet: A Reflection from a Baby Body Language Coach

As a mum of three grown children in their late 20s and early 30s, I find myself facing something I never really prepared for.

I’ve completed countless professional courses over the years—many with certificates proudly displayed—but nowhere in the curriculum was there a module titled: Empty Nest Syndrome 101. Or “Mum Now Surplus to Requirements”. If there had been, I might have paid more attention.

Now that the house is quiet again after the joy and whirlwind of my eldest son's wedding, and the brief but beautiful return of all three of my kids, I’m sitting with a heavy heart and a bit of an ache I didn’t expect to linger. They were home—sort of. Between remote working, catching up with friends, and the occasional dash in for food, showers, or laundry, they flitted in and out like they always have. And it was wonderful… and hard.

It left me reflecting: have I become redundant in their lives?

The answer isn’t simple. As women, we carry our children not only in our wombs, but in our hearts and energetic fields. Even when they grow up and find their wings, there’s a part of us that remains tethered to their well-being. It’s not something we can just switch off. It’s why the fridge is still full when they visit. Why the car is topped up with fuel. Why we’re still “on call” for drop-offs and pickups, even when they don’t need us quite like they used to.

I think of my own mother, raising seven of us, and I wonder how she coped with this stage of life. Did she feel this hollow quiet too? Did she yearn for just a little more acknowledgment or connection?

I could have chosen to rant or place blame—maybe on my ex who’s halfway around the world living what looks like an adventure. But deep down, I know that doesn’t serve anyone, especially not me.

The truth is, this space I’m sitting in—this feeling—is real. It touches something deeper. It stirs the early imprints from my own childhood, when expressing feelings wasn’t encouraged, and “getting on with it” was the norm. Now, as those familiar insecurities bubble up, I gently remind myself: This is old wiring. It’s not the truth of now.

So how do I navigate it?

I return to my body. I walk the dogs. I swim. I play golf.  I weed the garden. I move. I breathe. I take my feelings into the earth and let nature hold them. And when I do that, I find clarity. I find purpose. I return to the work that lights me up—supporting parents and carers who are navigating their own seasons of intensity, connection, and change.

My 38 years of experience working with 1000s of families, my tenderness, my understanding—all of it finds its home in the families I serve. My children may not need me in the same way anymore, but others do. And I’m here for them.

To every mother feeling that quiet ache at whatever stage you’re at with your children—I see you. You’re not alone. Let’s keep loving, nurturing, and showing up, not only for our babies, our toddlers, our older children, our grown children, but for ourselves and for the next generation of parents who need our wisdom and lived experience.

Because there’s still so much life, love, and guidance left in us.

With love and wholehearted connection,
Anne Matthews
Baby Body Language Coach & Parent Support Mentor
www.wholesomelyconnected.com