Do you remember the Friends episode when Ross was ‘fine’? He found out Rachel and Joey were a couple and said over and over ‘I’m fine’ when he was anything but.

Yes, well, that has been me for the past three months as I navigate my first-born son Harry buying a house and flying the nest.

I honestly, hand on heart, thought I was fine. I was determined to not be a clingy mum – ‘we don’t have them to keep them’ I’ve always thought.

Secondly we hardly see Harry these days because he is 21 and has his own life. He splits his time between our house, his Dad’s and his girlfriend’s.

Thirdly he left home before but came back and lastly my nest is far from empty as I have a six-year-old so it’s not like I’m left twiddling my thumbs.

For all of these reasons when anyone has asked me how I’m feeling about Harry moving out my response has been ‘fine’, ‘absolutely fine’ and ‘no really I’m fine.’

Until I wasn’t.

Last week, totally out of the blue, I had a panic attack. I’ve not had one in 10 years, so I knew something was seriously wrong.  

If you have ever had one you will know how awful they really are. It feels like there is something medically wrong. For the life of me I couldn’t imagine what had caused it.

I chatted it through with a therapist. She asked me what was going on at home which might have explained it.

‘Absolutely nothing’ was my response. We went through lots of different scenarios, Was I burnt out? Was it the menopause? Stress at work?

‘And there’s nothing else going on’ she said.

‘Well no – I mean Harry is moving out, but honestly I’m fine with it.’

It was at that point I realised what everyone else around me probably already knew – I was not fine.

My oldest son moving out is a monumental change in my life. Even though I’m really happy and proud of what he is doing, it is still a big shift and one that needs carefully navigating.

My little blond haired first-born landed on this earth 21 years ago and as all parents know the impact is indescribable.

It’s like your compass point changes and everything you thought was normal before is swept aside.

When his Dad and I separated, I became a single parent and for a good while it was just me and Harry.

Being a mother is wonderfully all-consuming and it is hard to see a day that you no longer play the leading role in your child’s life.

I did the best I could as a mother and I hope the lovely relationship we have now is testament to that.

So why does this feel like it is hitting so hard and why is it making me panic?
I’m not sure really, it just all seems to have flown by so quickly. When I close my eyes all I can see is a tiny three-year-old not the 6ft man who will be packing his things up over the next few weeks and moving into his new home.

Logically I’m so proud of him, thrilled he is doing this for himself and feel that at 21 it is exactly the right time for him to move out.

My emotional brain however is going into meltdown because it just feels like yesterday I was packing up his lunchbox, taking him to Scouts or dropping him off at swimming.

Somewhere between driving lessons, GCSEs he grew up and now he’s now buying his own house. Quite honestly it feels like a lot.

I know for a fact that I still very much needed my Mum and Dad right up until they both died. I was calling my Dad into my mid-40s asking for his help and advice and I still often feel lost without my Mum so I don’t feel totally redundant just yet.

This big change also clears a space for a new chapter to begin and for our relationship to evolve and develop into something different.

As things change we will find a different rhythm and a new way to be with each other as he steps out of our home and into the big wide world.

I also take comfort in the fact that he’s not actually going far away – not like many of my friends who have children moving across the country to university or across the world.

The only difference being he is buying a house so he’s not coming back and in some ways it makes the break that bit more final.

So when the time comes I’m going to put my big girl pants on take a deep breath and recognise that this is a huge step and a big change for us, while at the same time being super proud and pleased for him that he has the confidence and maturity to strive for what he wants.

I’m pretty sure he’ll be home now and again for his Sunday dinner and to build Lego with his little brother.

Oh and in 15 years I’m going to have to do it all over again – but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it and honestly I’m sure I’ll be fine!