12 Aug It’s Okay Not to Miss Your Kid

By Anna M. A. Stracey

Yes, you read that right: It is okay not to miss your kid.

This summer, after more than a year of COVID lockdown and close quarters, I sent my child to camp. Not for one week, not for two weeks, but for SEVEN weeks.

Some friends were supportive, but a surprising majority landed somewhere between mildly disapproving and horrified, especially after being told she will only be able to communicate through letters and one 20-minute phone call mid-session.

“Seven weeks is so LONG!”

“I just couldn’t do it.”

“She can’t bring a phone?!”

“My child is too shy.”

“What if she needs you…like really NEEDS you?”

“What if she hates it?”

And the kicker: “Won’t you miss her?”

I grew up going to sleepaway camp. Every summer starting at age seven, my parents would pack me up and drop me off at a camp that they likely knew very little about but had “heard good things.”

For several summers I went to a Seventh Day Adventist camp deep in Central Florida—we were not Adventist—where I learned how to build a fire, jump into a freezing spring, make braided bracelets and, perhaps most importantly, that Adventists are vegetarians, so I was allowed to eat cereal for dinner EVERY NIGHT!

At the other extreme, I went to an exclusive all-girls camp in Northern Ontario where I learned how to jump into an even colder lake, deal with my period on my own, stay alive during multi-day wilderness canoe trips and navigate new friendships.

As my friends silently, and not so silently, judged me for shipping my child away for the summer, I began to think back to my camp days.

Did I miss my parents? (Not really.)

Was I homesick? (Maybe for a day or two.)

Did it kill me? (Definitively no.)

Would I go again? (Absolutely!)

My husband had attended the same camp as our daughter almost 50 years ago. He loved it and returned four years in a row. Little has changed in their programming over the last half-century. The kids live in fortified tents, aren’t required to wear shoes and after completing a daily chore, can choose their own activities each day. And there are no electronics.

It’s a summer of freedom.

The first week I received a few pleading letters: “I HATE it here. It’s cold, and I might freeze. I’m starving myself so I can go home. This is NOT what you said it would be. I’m crying, and I miss you!” These hurt.

My child was sad and homesick. I felt worried for her. Were all those mothers right?!

My worry was short-lived as within a few days I saw a change in her tone. She was learning to adapt, to be part of a new community. By our mid-session phone call, she was brimming with excitement, ready to share stories of her adventures.

I asked her about her homesick letters. “Yeah, I’m OVER that” was her response.

After 15 minutes she was ready to say goodbye; I made her talk to me for the remaining five minutes.

So, what does this have to do with missing or not missing your child? Well, it’s about letting go of unnecessary emotional burdens. It’s about giving yourself permission to let your child be uncomfortable for a while and not feeling tortured over it.

To grow and learn you must experience life, and camp is a way for kids to do that. I know that because I did it myself.

I could have spent the last month-and-a-half worried sick, agonizing over every moment of my daughter’s discomfort and wishing she was at my side where I could make sure she’s always “all right.”

But instead I relaxed, I exhaled, and I let her find her own way. I chose to read those initial pleading letters and say, “She’s learning. She will adapt, and she will be stronger for it.”

I took the seven weeks as a mental break from an intense year of pandemic parenting but not a break from loving my child.

I love her; therefore I let her experience life.

I assume that every mother wants her child to be confident, capable, independent and happy. But how do we achieve this as parents if we aren’t willing to cut the proverbial umbilical cord and allow our children to develop these traits on their own?

I think back to times I nervously ventured out on my own only to have the wind taken out of my sails by my mother’s voice on the phone saying, “I miss you so much,” when what I really needed to hear was, “I love you so much” or “I am proud of your bravery.”

I wrote to my daughter at least twice a week, but never penned the words “I miss you” in any of those letters, instead writing those words I once needed: “You are so strong.”

I miss my daughter hugging me and telling me stories, yes, but I don’t miss her so much that I can’t let her grow up. I replace that feeling of loss with happiness for her adventure, joy for her new experiences and awe at her ability to adapt.

I’m inspired that she is able to live in a tent with strangers, learn a new routine and new skills and make her own decisions for an entire summer.

I know she will return as a stronger, more confident, more independent version of her fabulous self. And neither of us want to miss that.

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Anna Stracey is an educator, grant writer and compassionate human being. Born in Toronto, Canada, she received her Master’s degree in Global Sustainability from the University of South Florida and now lives in Florida, where she dedicates her time to caring for her daughter and trying to make the world a better place for all people.