Baseball Mom, Steph Van De Ven: From dugouts to stillness

September 20, 2025

From Dugouts to Stillness: Navigating the Pause

By Stephanie Van De Ven

Canada’s Baseball Mom

As the dust settles from a whirlwind season that took our family across Tennessee, Alabama, and Ohio, I find myself facing a quieter, unexpected challenge: the stillness.

The gear is packed. The cleats are by the door. The calendar, once overflowing with travel plans, tournament schedules, and hotel confirmations, now stares back blankly—waiting. We’re in that awkward, in-between season where the adrenaline of summer ball fades and we wait with bated breath for tryouts and rosters.

And while this pause is normal in the rhythm of the sport, it’s far from easy.

The Hardest Transition Isn’t Always on the Field

For my son, this gap is a time to reset, reflect, and refocus. But for me? It feels like an identity check I wasn’t quite prepared for.

Being a “baseball mom” isn’t just something I do — it’s a role I’ve embraced fully. I’ve been the carpool driver, the hotel booker, the snack bag packer, the bleacher cheerleader, the voice in the stands yelling, “You got this!” It’s been more than a schedule; it’s been a way of life.

So now, as my son inches closer to 18, and the chapters of his journey begin pointing toward independence, college, or even the final innings of competitive play — I find myself asking a very personal question:

Who will I be when I’m no longer a baseball mom?

You’ve Watched Them Grow — On and Off the Field

Over the years, I’ve witnessed more than just athletic development.

I’ve watched him learn how to handle pressure, pick himself up after striking out, and stay humble after knocking in the game-winning run. I’ve seen him lead, follow, apologize, persevere, and show respect — not just to coaches and teammates, but to opponents and umpires too.

The field has been a classroom, and the lessons go far beyond stats and scores. Responsibility. Teamwork. Grit. Grace in failure. Humility in success.

As a parent, there’s no greater joy than watching your child grow into someone who carries these values — not just under the lights, but in everyday life.

Sitting with the Stillness

This transition is harder than I expected. There’s pride, of course — so much pride in the young man he’s becoming, in his work ethic, and in all the memories we’ve made. But there’s also grief — yes, grief — for the chapters we’re leaving behind.

I realize I’m not mourning the end of an season, but the slow ending of an era. The hotel lobbies filled with teammates. The never-ending splashing at the pools after a long day of ball. The long drives to places all over Ontario and beyond, with Spotify playlists and the best conversations. The heart-racing moments in close games. The community of parents who became the most wonderful friends.

It all matters.

Sitting with stillness, in the uncomfortable - that’s what I know to be an experience I’ll have to get used to - and perhaps as a baseball mom you understand this exact sentiment.

Redefining Purpose Beyond the Bleachers

I also know that my identity as a baseball mom doesn’t end — it evolves.

The same energy, attention, and care I poured into being a baseball mom can be redirected. Maybe it’s toward mentoring other parents entering the travel ball world. Maybe it’s reconnecting with passions that have sat quietly on the sidelines. Or maybe, it’s simply giving myself permission to explore what my next chapter looks like.

There’s no perfect blueprint for this transition. But acknowledging it—sitting with it, feeling it—is the first step.

I’m preparing for it now because it feels like one of the best chapters of my life is coming to an end.

It might just be time to write a few more new ones - but I’m still hanging on to “the good old days” for just a little longer.

To All the Parents in the Pause

If you’re also in that in-between space — where the games are on pause and the identity feels a little shaky — know you’re not alone.

This pause might feel like an end, but maybe it’s also a beginning.

A chance to rediscover yourself, outside of the uniform, outside of the schedule, outside of the title of baseball mom.

And like our kids on the field — we’re learning, growing, and finding new ways to step up to the plate.