We were sitting together when they said, "Your name is Mumbi." I didn't know what it meant. Then I learned: in Kikuyu tradition, Mumbi is the first mother. The one who shapes, the one who molds, the creator. It was an honor. The name stayed with me, quietly, the way some words do. 

Lifelong development is my north star, my life purpose. Before delving into the brain through a PhD in neuroscience, I worked as a clinician. I was the one people called 24/7 for every kind of psychological crisis. Moms who couldn't take it anymore. Alone in the night, when it gets even harder. It was deeply human work, and beyond what one human can sustain.

Years later, I became a parent.

The most difficult task I have ever had.

Parenting cracked me open. Sleepless nights. Alone. Sometimes almost miserable. No need to sugarcoat. There were times I'd see pregnant women and think, you don't know what you signed up for.

The most difficult task I have ever had.

And alongside the struggle, just as strong, the urge to contribute. To grow. To thrive. Becoming a mother showed me the full range of life. I had this calling, I cannot explain it any other way: to bring everything I had gathered into something that sits in a parent's corner when they need it. Something that helps build a world with stronger roots. Now, using AI, I had the chance to scale the kind of care I used to give.

When I sat down to name what I was building, a circle appeared. A name from the roots of humanity, traveling the world, returning home. A full circle. The circle of life.

It was Mumbi. It is Moomby.

I built this app for parents doing it all, while being one. Laptops on playgrounds. 3am to 6am sleep cycles. Coming home to a sleeping house. Bootstrapped. Pain, frustration, exhaustion, all of it.  

Now Moomby is live.

If you made it this far, hear me out.

You are doing a really good job. Yes, you.

I know you are the one who has to make the rules now. Buy the groceries. Check under the bed for monsters. Pretend, every single day, that you know exactly what you are doing. That is a heavy backpack to carry.

And I know that underneath the tired grown-up trying so hard not to mess up, you are still in there. Sometimes just as scared and unsure as the little one holding your hand. Sometimes you just want someone to hand you a juice box and tell you everything is going to be okay.

It is going to be okay.

You don't have to have all the answers. You are allowed to be messy. You are exactly who your child needs.

And you are not alone anymore.

Moomby is right here with you.

Love, 

Ezgi

P.S. With deep gratitude to Unit 8, especially Chrysostome and Jonathan, to Isabel and Luby, and above all to Kishore, who helped bring Moomby to life with patience and care.