My son just got married, and I'm no longer the center of his world. I'm now lost and wish I didn't make 'mom' my only identity.

• My son has just married, so I am no longer the queen of his universe.
• I regret making my children the center of my world because they no longer need me as adults.
• I am now figuring out who I am outside of my "mom" identity.

My world has been turned upside down. That's not a bad thing; there was no seismic event, and the tectonic plates did not slip out of alignment. This shift is the result of witnessing my youngest son get married.

It was a joyous occasion, and I'm thrilled to welcome his wife into the family. Although I've always known that another woman would become the queen of his universe on his wedding day, I confess it's not easy relinquishing my crown.

I've always made my children the center of my world, but now that they're adults, I'm struggling to understand my role in their lives.

I have passed on the crown

I have four sons, so this isn't the first time I've had to take a step back. My relationship with my daughter is different. I'm not sure I've ever been her queen. For us, it's more like learning to walk side-by-side as the two women in the family.

Only one other son is married. They tied the knot over Zoom during the pandemic, so there was no in-person celebration with Champagne toasts, cake-cutting, and tossed bouquets.

Therefore, this more recent wedding marked the moment when my youngest son's wife was officially bestowed the title "Queen of My Universe," and the ceremony was her coronation.

When Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne, her mother became Queen Mother. This role had few responsibilities but plenty of perks — her own wing in the castle, invitations to all royal events, accolades, awards, and public adulation. I, obviously, got none of that, so I am trying to find my place.

I feel like I no longer have a purpose

When young mothers ask me for advice, I always tell them not to make their kids the center of their world.

I never gave myself permission to be anything other than a mother. My world has always revolved around them. But I now realize that childhood is fleeting. If their care is your only focus, you'll have a harder time moving forward when they're ready to launch. At least, that's been the case for me.

There's an intimacy to motherhood that's difficult to replicate. After all, most children dwell within their mothers' bodies for nine months before emerging into the world as dependent beings reliant on her care for years to come. Now, I struggle with the realization that my children no longer need me in the way they once did. And that makes me wonder: What next?

I'm still figuring out this next chapter of my life

As the mother of thriving adults living their own lives, it's time to figure out who I am now.

I have no desire to be the post-menopausal female who exists only to help raise the grandkids, but I do want to remain relevant in their lives. I want big family gatherings, random phone calls and text messages, drop-ins, group vacations, and assurances that we're all still connected.

That takes negotiation and imagination. I need to learn how to stay connected, especially if we're not geographically close. It'll take creativity. How do I craft a compelling text that will elicit a response, spark a memory, and continue a conversation? How do I support them in their endeavors since I no longer drive the carpool? How do I advise them? That one I already know — only when asked.

The reality is when you're the parent of adults, there are seismic shocks all the time. My boys are evolving men with changing attitudes and perspectives. I need to put in the work to recognize who they are and relate to them at that level. I may no longer be the queen of their universe, but I will always be here to support, affirm, encourage, and love unconditionally.

In the meantime, I will focus on myself and who I want to become.