When my kids were little, I often wondered what they would be like as adults. What would their professions be? Would they have a partner? Where would they live?
I never wondered, though, about my role as a mom to adult children. There’s a part of me that wishes I had, though I’m not sure anything prepares you for parenting grown kids.
Case in point: My youngest son is an active-duty U.S. Marine. When he left for boot camp in 2022, it was only six weeks after my mom died. Truthfully, I don’t know how I endured that double dose of grief. Boot camp was hard—16 long weeks with only “snail mail” to stay connected.
Despite my sadness, I was incredibly excited for my son, especially because I knew he’d get to see the world, which came to fruition last August when he embarked on his first deployment—a six-month Indo-Pacific tour that included Japan and South Korea.
While I was excited for his adventure, the grief hit me again as soon as Joe left. The time difference, spotty cell service, and world events made this deployment harder than I had expected. I worried about his safety, wondered how he was doing mentally, and missed hearing his voice.
I felt untethered—like a kite with part of her tail missing.
Some nights, I cried silently. Other days, I barely thought about it. Grief is strange like that. It sneaks up on you, like a cage dropping unexpectedly around you—suddenly, you feel contained, stuck in the moment. Then sometimes, just as suddenly, the cage lifts, and life moves forward.
The Moment of Homecoming
Thankfully, deployments come to an end, and Marines come home.
Last week, my husband and I braved a bitterly cold and wet night—our basset hounds in tow—to welcome our son home. I barely recognized him with his new mustache, but as soon as he smiled, I knew.
There’s my boy.
At that moment, my kite soared again, her tail fully restored.
How Deployment Grief Affected My Business
Only since my Marine’s return to the U.S. did I realize how his absence had affected not just my heart, but my professional life too. Simply put, my business lost momentum.
My focus was scattered. My motivation dipped. I chalked it up to hormones, but now, in hindsight, I understand—I was grieving. Grieving the shift from mothering a little boy who once asked, “More milk, for please and thank you,” to a grown man in night vision gear, carrying a rifle. From knowing where he was at all times—just a text away—to accepting that I wouldn’t always know his whereabouts.
No wonder I felt untethered—I was navigating uncharted territory. I spent too much time criticizing myself for my scattered thoughts when, in reality, I needed grace. Only in hindsight did I understand what was happening with my emotions.
Entrepreneurship and the Weight of Life
So, why am I sharing this story? Because sometimes, we just need to hear what’s happening in other women’s lives—to normalize what may be going on in our own.
As women, our personal lives intertwine with our professional ones—whether we’re entrepreneurs or corporate leaders. It’s how we are wired, how our society is structured, and how feminine energy moves through us as nurturers.
I honor us in our journeys, juggling the personal and the professional as best we can. Some seasons bring joy; others bring sadness. No matter what, our emotions shape how we show up in our businesses. And when life delivers something as intense as a child’s military deployment, it’s impossible for it not to seep into our work.
Grace for the Journey Ahead
Now that I’ve experienced a deployment, I feel more prepared for the next one. Maybe it won’t bring as much grief, but if it does, I’ll recognize it for what it is and understand how it might impact my business. Most importantly, I’ll remind myself that whatever I feel in those moments is valid.
Above all, I’ll practice grace as I navigate my path—whether my kite soars high or struggles to stay aloft. And my wish for you? That you do the same, offering yourself grace no matter where your journey takes you.