Waking Up at 5AM for 8 Weeks: What the 5AM Club Changed for Me
Our Dreams In Progress
Welcome to my personal space, where I write through change, learning, and healing in real time. Written by a 45-year-old mother of three, learning AI, online systems, and how to stay sane and healthy, one honest step at a time.
Letting Go as a Mother to My Firstborn — The Hardest Goodbye I’ve Ever Faced
October 17, 2025
My Journey to $100k
Letting go as a mother especially to your firstborn is something no one truly prepares you for. We spend years loving, nurturing, and giving everything we have to our children, only to one day face the very purpose of it all: letting them go.
It’s one of the great ironies of motherhood. We spend years pouring our hearts, time, and energy into raising these little humans, knowing that one day they’ll leave to build a life of their own. But when that moment actually arrives, nothing truly prepares you for the ache of it.
A few weeks ago, I sent my firstborn off to university, all the way across the world in Manchester. And though I told myself I was ready, the truth is, I wasn’t.
Between Work and Motherhood
We left in mid-September, just me and him. My husband had to stay at home with our two younger children. It was always decided that I would be the one to go, and I wanted to be the one to send him.
Prior to that, I had already been feeling anxious but tried to brush it away amidst the chaos of preparing to leave. I was also confident that I could keep up with my work online because I thought that without my usual daily distractions of school runs and mummy duties, I could actually commit to doing more work and finish the projects I had planned.
When we were there, I was still trying to keep up with my work online, checking in with Kristina, replying to messages, and doing what I could in between moments. But my heart and mind were somewhere else.
The truth was, no matter how much I had planned to stay productive, I simply couldn’t dedicate the time I thought I would. My son needed me fully, and I knew that.
We spent those days doing the real-life things that prepare a young adult to live on their own. We went shopping for everything: pillows, sheets, towels, and kitchen essentials. We made multiple trips to grocery stores and supermarkets. We walked around the city together, learning the routes to his university, figuring out how to get around independently, and navigating buses and trams for the first time.
At home, he never had to walk or take public transport. We always drove him. So this was a whole new world for him.
He already knew how to cook simple meals, but we still practiced using his new kitchen equipment, making sure he was comfortable cooking on his own. We set up his bank account, got his phone sorted, stocked his fridge, and organized his small dorm room to make it feel a little more like home.
It was exhausting, emotional, and I was so grateful for that time together. It was a precious chapter that marked the transition between his childhood and adulthood and between my old version of motherhood and the new one I’m still learning to grow into.
The Farewell in Manchester
When it was finally time to leave, I told him not to come to the airport with me. I didn’t want to have that emotional goodbye at the gate. So instead, I kissed him goodbye at the hotel, and he left in an Uber back to his dorm while I took another one to the airport.
I cried silently the entire ride.
The city blurred past the window, but my thoughts were loud. Every street we had walked together flashed through my mind. Every errand, every moment, it all suddenly felt too short.
All the worries came crashing into my mind. Will he be okay? What will he eat? What if he gets sick? My heart filled again with all those worries, but there was no turning back. This was the time to let go.
When the plane took off, I felt my heart drop. The realization that I was leaving him behind, not just for a few days but for months, hit me hard. I’m sure the person next to me saw me crying, but I’m glad they gave me space and just let me be.
I had done everything to prepare him for this, yet I had no idea how to prepare myself.
Coming Home Without Him
Coming home was bittersweet.
I was happy to be back in the arms of my husband, to snuggle my younger two, to be surrounded by family again. But everything felt different. His voice wasn’t echoing through the house anymore. His chair at the table was empty.
I went into his room and cried on his empty bed, breathing in his scent and engulfed with tears.
I missed him in all the small ways: when I was cooking all his favorite meals, when I saw his favorite snacks at the grocery store, no more waiting for him to come down for dinner, no more after-tuition Saturday coffee runs.
Fast forward to now: It’s been almost a month, and I’m happy to report he is doing well. His calendar is full of activities, and he has settled in and made good friends. I am so grateful.
I do still feel sad when something reminds me of him, but I’m grateful to know he is okay.
Motherhood doesn’t give you a manual for this part. You spend years giving everything of yourself, and then one day, you realize the very purpose of it all was to help them not need you so much anymore.
Finding Comfort in the Bigger Picture
In those quiet moments, I remind myself of the bigger picture.
He’s there to learn, to grow, to earn his degree, to find his place in the world. This is exactly what we’ve been preparing him for all along.
Letting go doesn’t mean losing him. It means trusting that everything I’ve poured into him will carry him through, the values, the love, the lessons.
I hold onto the small things that keep us connected: our calls, our texts, his updates from campus. Each one reminds me that he’s okay, that he’s adjusting, that he’s becoming his own person.
And deep down, I know he’ll always carry home in his heart, no matter where he goes.
A New Chapter of Motherhood and of Our Dreams In Progress
This experience reminded me that our dreams evolve just like our children do.
Our Dreams In Progress was born from my desire to build something meaningful while raising my family, but it’s also a space where I share the real moments behind it all, the imperfect balance, the emotional detours, the parts no one talks about.
Letting my firstborn go has been one of the hardest lessons in that balance, a reminder that life keeps moving and love stretches far beyond distance or circumstance.
Motherhood doesn’t end when they leave home; it just transforms. And as he starts his new chapter, so do I. This is what it truly means to keep dreaming forward together, even while apart.
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