Over the last several weeks, I’ve watched so many friends drop their kids off at college. Every day my social media feed features fresh images of dorm rooms, packed cars, nervous smiles and tearful hugs. 

If you scroll through my text messages, you’ll find something like this:

“How ya holdin’ up?”

“Have you guys left yet?”

“Doing ok?”

“Ok, but how are you REALLY?” 

“Call if you need to vent/talk/sob.”

Two weeks ago today, we dropped our oldest child off at college. Hugging my daughter goodbye felt like the strangest out-of-body experience. It was as if I was choosing which limb to part with, leaving it there in the parking lot of a college dorm. Nothing about it felt right. Nothing about it seemed natural. 

Yet at the same time I knew it was what was supposed to happen. I knew that this was the finish line of the 18+ year journey we had just faithfully completed. Not the parenting journey, of course. I know that’s not over. 

I know, because within 24 hours I was digging around in her closet looking for very specific items she forgot and asked me to mail. I also know because she sent pictures of Walmart receipts asking to be paid back for deodorant and shampoo. But the real sign that we are very much still in the parenting game was a Snapchat message that read, “Can I ask your advice on something?”

There are no sweeter words in the world right now.  

The reality is, she has taken her first steps into adulthood. And there’s honestly some level of grief attached to that. Things will never go back to the way they used to be. 

For example, I’ve learned that just because I birthed her doesn’t mean I have automatic access to things that directly affect her. For example, her tuition statement. Never mind we’re the ones writing the check each month. Nope. To the rest of the world, she’s an official adult. 

An adult with exclusive power over granting her mother access to the payment portal.

Anyway, in the weeks leading up to the big drop-off, I tried to mentally prepare as much as possible. And I was fairly certain I knew exactly what I’d feel and how everything would go. I made lists, we’d had discussions, and I was armed with a plan.  

I was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. 

Then we prayed for her in the car just before we dropped her off. And a tangible feeling of surrender washed over me…releasing my active role in her growing-up journey and putting my full trust in God to take it from here. 

In that last hug goodbye, I held on to her her like my life depended on it. In a split second, her childhood played in my mind like a movie on fast-forward. At warp speed, I saw her in the NICU. I saw her first steps. I saw her holding her lunchbox and nap mat. I saw her in braces and singing in her first school musical. I remembered every roadblock, every triumph, and every ounce of love I have for this precious human.

When I tell you I sobbed on the drive home, I mean we had to pull over at a roadside rest stop for toilet paper because I blew through (literally) everything I had in the car. I simply couldn’t stop the tears from coming. 

As happy and proud and excited as I was for her, I felt the immense significance of this rite of passage. I felt it to my core. 

Two weeks have passed, and I think I’ve been most surprised by the wildly different emotions that fluctuate on an hourly basis. One day last week, I was full of optimism. Silently congratulating myself for crushing this experience, while simultaneously wondering if it was ok that I wasn’t more sad. Within the same hour, someone innocently texted and asked how I was doing. My eyes flooded with tears when I realized just how much I miss my kid.

This process is not linear. It’s a winding, looping road of emotions. Today I’m fine. Last Thursday I was not fine. And I kind of think that’s how this is supposed to go.

If you’re also experiencing alllllll the college drop-off emotions, you’re in good company. Go ahead and ride the wave of emotions as they come. Don’t be surprised if you feel ok when you think you’re supposed to feel sad. And if you feel sad even though your kid is thriving, that’s ok, too.

Parenting a young adult is an entirely new adventure. There will be growing pains and learning curves, just like when you brought that sweet-smelling newborn home from the hospital. It’s a season of growth, for both of you. Be patient with yourself. 

Especially if you’re still waiting to be allowed access to the payment portal.