Swazi’s Parenting Master Class
Yesterday, I spent a beautiful afternoon at Elephant Valley at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. I was there as a VIP guest with my husband, a mango pineapple mocktail in hand (10/10, highly recommend!), and I honestly could’ve stayed for hours. There is something about watching elephants up close that settles your soul. They are steady, powerful, and gentle all at once.
But as I sat there, what struck me most wasn’t just their size—it was the way the matriarchs moved through the herd. I found myself mesmerized by Swazi, the matriarch, and the way she guided her younger daughter, Qinisa.
A new bunch of leaves had been placed in the habitat, high above where Qinisa could reach. I watched as Swazi stayed close while Qinisa repositioned herself, trunk stretched and big ears flopping back, trying desperately to snag a snack. She couldn’t reach a single leaf. After several failed attempts, Swazi reached up, pulled the leaves just a little bit lower, and then—this is the important part—she stepped back.
If there was a thought bubble above Swazi’s head, it may have read: “You can do hard things. I trust you, and I am right here alongside you.”
The Human Version of the “Becoming”
As a mother of a college-bound teen, this scene felt strangely familiar. It’s what we do every day, isn’t it? We are the loving moms cheering from the sidelines, helping them reach just enough until they can grab hold on their own.
In an elephant herd, the matriarchs spend years teaching their young everything they need to survive: where to find the watering holes, how to socialize, how to read danger, and how to be independent. When male elephants reach their teen years, they eventually leave to join a bachelor herd. They don’t leave because they aren’t loved; they leave because it’s the next natural chapter of their “becoming.”
If you’re preparing to send your teen off to college, you’re in the human version of that chapter. You’ve spent years doing exactly what Swazi did—modeling how to reach for what they need, then stepping back so they can grab it themselves. Eventually, we have to step back even further and trust them to find their own way.
The Elephant-Sized Shift on the Inside
Right now, your life might feel like a whirlwind of college prep checklists, dorm room Pinterest pages, and practicing your “brave face.” But underneath the logistics, you feel those elephant-sized shifts on the inside. Your role as the matriarch is quietly changing.
For years, you’ve taught them where their watering holes are and who their safe people are. You’ve modeled community and shared your family values. Now, they’re stepping into their first real stretch of independent terrain. If this transition feels heavy, even if you’re bursting with pride, please know: this is normal.
Like Swazi, you are figuring out how to take that step back and how it feels to reposition yourself toward the sidelines. Elephants are known for their deep emotional intelligence; they grieve, they gather, and they remember. That ache you feel isn’t weakness. It’s love. It’s proof that your capacity to nurture your emerging adult is real.
Key Takeaways for the Transitioning Mom
As you navigate this season, keep these three reflections tucked in your heart:
1. Roots Enable Roaming: On the days you feel undone, remember that if your teen weren’t well-rooted, they wouldn’t be brave enough to roam. Their independence is a tribute to your guidance.
2. Influence Over Access: Your bond isn’t dependent on proximity. Elephants roam miles apart and stay connected through memory and recognition. Your influence doesn’t vanish just because they moved into a dorm; it simply evolves from daily access to deep-seated trust.
3. The Widening of the Herd:This isn’t an ending; it’s an expansion. You aren’t losing a child; you are watching your family’s “herd” grow larger and more resilient.
Reflection Question: In what area of my teen’s life can I “pull the leaves down” just a little bit lower this week, and then practice the art of stepping back?
Addressing the Elephant in the Room
By the way, Qinisa did get those leaves eventually! Swazi and I stood back with pride, watching her succeed on her own terms.
If you find yourself needing support addressing the elephant in the room the fact that this transition is emotionally challenging and heavy,I would love to support you.
I am right there in the herd with you, not just as a coach, but as a fellow college mom who understands the bittersweet reality of the “step back.” You don’t have to navigate these shifts alone. Whether you need help managing the anxiety of drop-off or rediscovering your own identity as your teen roams, let’s connect.
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