If you had told me years ago that the hardest part of motherhood wouldn’t be the sleepless nights, toddler tantrums, or mountains of laundry—but the silence—I wouldn’t have believed you.
Not the peaceful, everybody’s-asleep kind of silence.
I’m talking about the holiday silence that settles into the living room when two of my three kids are gone. The stockings still hang, the tree still glows, and the memories echo louder than any Christmas song ever could.
That silence takes strength to sit with.
Most people assume the holidays are simple for me because I have sole custody of my two oldest. But parenting—and life—are never that black and white. Because of deeply personal health concerns in their dad’s family, I choose to share their time with their Nana. Not because I’m legally required to. Not because I want a break. But because love sometimes means letting go of the moments we want most.
And that choice… it’s beautiful and brutal all at once.
🎁 The Holidays No One Talks About
There’s a certain magic that happens when all three of my kids are home—siblings wrestling on the couch, giggles floating out of the kitchen, shoes scattered like confetti across the floor. That chaos is my favorite gift.
So when the holidays roll around and traditions start shaping themselves, something inside me aches knowing two of them won’t always be here to unwrap it with us.
It’s strange to go from having them every day—from breakfasts, schoolwork, bedtime snuggles—to suddenly not being part of their big Christmas morning moment. You don’t realize how heavy stockings feel until you’re the only one looking at them.
People mean well when they say,
“Enjoy the break!”
“Use the time for yourself!”
“You deserve rest!”
But rest doesn’t feel like rest when your heart is somewhere else.
And even though I made the choice—lovingly, intentionally—it still stings. That’s the part we moms rarely give ourselves permission to say out loud.
❤️ Choosing Compassion Over Control
It would be easy to hold tight, to claim every holiday because custody papers say I can. But I didn’t raise my kids to believe love is selfish, territorial, or convenient.
Their Nana loves them deeply. She didn’t ask for life to hand her complicated family circumstances. She shows up with gentleness, safety, consistency—and that matters. She deserves those memories too.
So I share.
Even though it hurts.
Even though it stretches me.
Even though my holiday looks different than the one I dreamed of when they were babies.
Because motherhood isn’t about keeping—it’s about giving.
Giving them connection, belonging, extended family, and the understanding that love grows best when we make room for it.
And someday, I hope they look back and realize I didn’t fight for time—I fought for peace.
It’s hard explaining to my youngest why his big sister and brother aren’t here to decorate cookies or open presents. He didn’t get the same childhood, the same house, the same memories—they’re building three different versions of the same story, and I pray someday they stitch together beautifully.
It’s hard watching other families take full-family holiday photos while mine has two empty spaces. I smile, but I notice.
It’s hard scrolling through social media knowing my kids will see two Christmases, two dinner tables, two celebrations—and I’m not part of one of them.
And then there’s the mom-guilt cocktail:
- I should be happier for them.
- I should be stronger.
- I shouldn’t miss them this much.
- I chose this, so I can’t complain.
But feelings don’t care about logic. Motherhood is allowed to be layered.
💚 The Joy That Returns Like Sunrise
Then—just when my heart starts folding into itself—the front door swings open. Backpacks drop, boots tumble, and laughter fills the house again.
They run in with stories, new memories, pictures, inside jokes, and a glow I didn’t create—but still get to witness.
And suddenly, the quiet was worth it.
Those ordinary moments—movie nights, feeding animals on the farm, helping with dinner, brushing teeth, bedtime hugs—feel bigger, richer, sacred. Holidays may be temporary, but daily life is the song we never stop singing.
Having time away from them doesn’t make me less of a mom.
It makes me more grateful for every second I get.
🌿 Learning to Take Care of Me, Too
Here’s the part that surprised me: I needed the space and never realized it.
When they’re gone, I’m allowed to breathe differently.
To pick up a hobby I forgot I loved.
To read a book without interruption.
To take a drive, bake bread, plan next season’s garden, or sit outside with my coffee and actually taste it.
I’m learning that mothers don’t disappear when their children leave the room.
We are still women—whole, deserving, evolving.
We need TLC—tender, loving care.
Not just in crisis. Not just when burnt out.
But because we’re human.
And the more I pour into myself, the more I have to give them when they come home.
💭 For Any Parent Who Feels This Too…
Whether you co-parent, share holidays, raise kids between households, or simply miss someone you love—your feelings are real.
You’re allowed to struggle.
You’re allowed to cry in the laundry room.
You’re allowed to want every holiday with them.
And you’re still a good parent if you don’t get them.
Love doesn’t measure its worth in dates on a calendar—it measures in presence, patience, and the everyday ordinary.
Your kids won’t remember which house they spent Thanksgiving at.
They’ll remember who made them feel safe, wanted, and heard.
This year, I’m choosing:
- to honor the love they receive elsewhere
- to celebrate the family I get to raise every day
- to trust that time spent apart isn’t a loss—it’s an expansion
- to fill my quiet moments with purpose instead of pain
- to practice self-care without apology
And most importantly—to treasure the laughter, chaos, hugs, and messes when all three of my kids are home under one roof.
Because those aren’t just moments.
They’re miracles.
✨ If You’re Walking This Path Too…
You’re not alone, mama.
Pull up a chair—there’s room at this table.
Tell me:
Do you struggle sharing holiday time, too?
What helps you get through the quiet?
I’d love to write more posts, support, and encouragement around this. 🤍
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