Feeling Lost in Midlife

Soon I'll be sharing notes from a conference called "Lost in the Middle," based on Paul Tripp's book of the same title. But first, a bit of journaling from the heart of a woman who feels, more often than not, lost in midlife and wondering who she is now that her wedding veil has long since yellowed and her lap is vacant of wiggly wee'uns.

My husband and I, who are in our 40s, thought we were maybe feeling a sense of "lostness" a few years ago when the oldest child was graduating from high school and his stair-step siblings were on the cusp. We could envision paying three college tuitions every year for a few years, but knew that it'd go by like a heard of zebras on the savannah--one quick blur of black and white. And then --then what?

But it was nothing like we've both felt lately, when the kids truly are (except for one) full-grown and seemingly independent and don't really need us and scarcely ask our input. It's not like they need "permission" as young adults and it's not like any of them (except the eight year old "bonus child") snuggle up to invent bedtime rhymes and read Little Visits with God.

Life has marched on, and our life as a couple is not all about being parents anymore. We never thought it was before, but I think we were mistaken. We now go on dates and often sit in silence because the conversation does not naturally default to the children. Sometimes we discuss them, but it's not like our world is our kids. We're not pinching pennies or worried about retirement. We have our health. I have my parents. (He lost both of his, sadly, in his twenties.). I try not to think of the reality that my folks will probably be "needing" us in ways that children don't want to be needed, because it's a sure sign we're not children anymore and haven't been for a long, long time.

I've gotta tell ya, it is an awkward feeling, this thing of midlife identity. I am no longer always known as "Ben's mom" (or Sarah's or Stephen's). I don't have to talk to their friends' moms in order for them to get together. They have keys and cars and phones and laptops; that's how life is. For the most part, they have their world (college classes, work, homework,friends, music). And we have our world. Except that ours feels strangely empty sometimes. Even when six people are here, it doesn't feel like we're on the same page, because the truth is, we're not. Our lives don't seem to intersect as much as parallel. I miss the old days. I want the snuggle time. I sometimes want to be called "Mommy" by a three-year-old. I want to hold one soft hand on either side of me when I cross the grocery store parking lot.

But then I think, I do like going to the grocery store without having to put anyone into a cart or worry if they're standing up in it about to do a free-fall to plastic surgery of the face. I don't miss the whiney stage one bit. In fact, when I hear a whiner, I just want to stuff a sock in the kid's mouth and tell the parent who is giving into it to wise up to the brat.

Potty training is something I'll never have to dread again. No one needs food cut up, and everyone can enjoy an hour and a half of adult conversation in a nice restaurant when we're all out together. We don't have to deal with high chairs and booster seats and packing a dozen extra things before a day out. No stroller, no Cheerios, no sippy cups, no scheduling our social lives around a baby's nap time. (Now we schedule around my nap time!)

I don't miss the dramatic meltdowns of a prima donna.

But I miss the little girl I had who would tell her baby dolls "little go-wi'll 'tories) like the little girl stories I would tell her at night.

I don't miss the fighting over who gets the windows and who has to sit in the middle.
But I love the rare occasions when all six of us get to ride in the same vehicle.

I don't miss getting up to fix everyone breakfast at the same time.
But I miss like crazy having all my family at the same table at least once a day. If it happens once a week now, I feel it's a treat. The treat is usually spelled WEWILLPAYFORYOURLUNCHAFTERCHURCHWANNACOME?

I could go on. I am feeling all sorts of strange and scary feelings deep in my heart right now, which I mostly push aside so that I don't shrivel up into a blubbering mass of protoplasm. Mostly I feel invisible. That's probably the worst of it. Feeling at 45 that I'm somewhere lost in the middle between a has-been and a wanna-be.