25 Years of Motherhood, 25 Years of Becoming - Part 3

 By Dr. Anupama Vaidya (hc) 

As Ishita began to grow, so did I.

Not just in years, but in understanding. The sleepless nights gave way to school mornings, and lullabies turned into conversations that taught me more than any book ever could. These were the years of quiet discoveries, of laughter that healed, silences that comforted, and lessons that unfolded in the everyday rhythm of life.

Motherhood, I realized, isn’t just about nurturing life; it’s about witnessing growth, hers and mine, in parallel.

It’s the phase where love learns new languages, patience takes deeper roots, and faith becomes the invisible thread holding it all together.

As I continue sharing the next few lessons, I am truly enjoying this journey toward Ishita’s 25th, revisiting the years of my becoming, and embracing the becoming that is still unfolding within me.

25 Lessons from 25 Years of Motherhood: Reflections on Growing Through Love

• Learning 1: Pain is inevitable, suffering is a choice
• Learning 2: Listening to the quiet, not chasing the noise

(for details on 1 and 2, refer to link: https://anupamav3010.blogspot.com/2025/10/25-years-of-motherhood-25-lessons-of.html 

• Learning 3: Nurturing what is still becoming, and not perfecting what’s already known:
• Learning 4: Trusting Yourself in the Unknown, Not Fearing the Uncertain.
• Learning 5: In Raising Her, Raising Myself.

(for details on 3, 4 and 5, refer to link: https://anupamav3010.blogspot.com/2025/10/25-years-of-motherhood-25-lessons-of_20.html)

• Learning 6: Seeing the World Anew Through Her Eyes
• Learning 7: Stillness Is Strength in Disguise
• Learning 8: They Don’t Listen to Your Words, They Mirror Your Being
• Learning 9: Curiosity keeps the heart young

So here are the lessons 6 to 9... ... ...

Each one a reflection of the becoming that continues even today.

I look forward to you walking this path with me, feeling these emotions and perhaps finding echoes of your own story with mine.

6. Seeing the World Anew Through Her Eyes

When Ishita arrived, life turned from muted tones to vivid colours. The simplest things, a bird on the window, a splash of water, the blooming of flowers, the honking of cars, suddenly felt like magic again.

Through her wonder, I rediscovered the joy of ordinary moments, the kind that adulthood often forgets to notice.

Her laughter became my favourite sound, spontaneous, pure, contagious.

Her tiny fingers pointing to the sky reminded me that curiosity is the soul’s way of praying.

With every “Why?” and “How?”, she didn’t just learn about the world, she invited me to see it again, differently, honestly, completely.

Motherhood has a way of humbling you. It takes you back to the basics: to curiosity, to awe, to presence.

Children don’t just grow under your care; they awaken something dormant within you, a child who had quietly gone to sleep under layers of reason and routine. There were moments I caught myself watching her, how she marveled at butterflies, or danced without music, and I’d realize that perhaps joy doesn’t need a reason, it only needs your own permission.

Through her, I learned that life doesn’t need to be understood to be appreciated. It only needs to be witnessed, wholeheartedly.

Motherhood taught me that children don’t just inherit our world, they lend us their eyes, so we can learn to see it again. “Through her wonder, I found my own. A second childhood wrapped in love, awe, and rediscovery.”

7. Stillness Is Strength in Disguise

In the early days of motherhood, nights often stretched endlessly. The world asleep, the room dimly lit, and only the rhythm of her tiny breaths keeping me company. 

There was exhaustion, yes, but also something sacred in those hours, a stillness that held a thousand unspoken truths. It was in those quiet moments that I realized – strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it whispers through patience.

It sits beside a crib in silence, hums lullabies into the dark, and finds peace in the pause between two cries. And as your little one grows, so does this stillness, evolving from sleepless nights to silent prayers, from gentle hums to quiet hopes.

Motherhood slowed me down - not to stop my pace, but to tune me into life’s gentler frequencies.

The more I learnt to be still, the more I began to notice: the flutter of her eyelashes, the warmth of her tiny palm, the miracle of her simply being.

The world teaches us to keep moving - to achieve, to fix, to plan. But motherhood teaches the opposite: to pause, to listen, to breathe.

In that stillness, strength quietly takes root - steady, grounded, and calm.

Motherhood taught me that stillness isn’t the absence of motion, it’s the presence of meaning. “In the hush between two heartbeats, I found the strength that never needed to be loud.”

8. They Don’t Listen to Your Words — They Mirror Your Being

Long before Ishita understood my words, she understood me. She absorbed my moods, my pauses, my smiles, my sighs – every gesture, every silence, every vibration of energy around her.

Children don’t learn from what we say; they learn from what we are. They imitate how we handle our anger, how we recover from disappointment, how we speak to others, how we treat ourselves. 

Our tone becomes their comfort.

Our calm becomes their compass.

Our anxieties, too, can quietly become theirs.

There were moments when I realised, she was learning from the way I lived, not from the lessons I spoke.

When I chose peace over panic, she learnt trust;

When I apologised, she learnt humility;

When I worked hard without complaint, she learnt discipline;

When I laughed at my mistakes, she learnt grace;

When I spoke with kindness, she learnt empathy;

When I stood up again after falling apart, she learnt resilience; and

And when I loved myself through the chaos, she learnt self-worth.

Motherhood made me conscious – not of what I should teach, but of who I was becoming while she watched.

Because a child doesn’t become what you tell her to be. She becomes what you show her to be.

Motherhood taught me that your presence is your greatest curriculum and your being, her first mirror. “Children may outgrow your lap, but they never outgrow the lessons of your being.”

9. Curiosity keeps the heart young.

From the moment she could reach out, Ishita wanted to touch everything — the flowers, the flame of a candle, the raindrops on the windowpane, the TV remote, even the dough I was kneading.

Her little fingers were always exploring, her eyes forever questioning. Her world an endless canvas of “why,” “how,” and “what if.”

There was no hesitation, no fear, only wonder. She wanted to try, taste, feel, and understand it all. Every discovery, no matter how small, was met with the same sparkle as if she’d just uncovered the universe in a seashell.

At first, I thought I was teaching her, explaining why the sun sets, why rainbows fade, why people cry.

But slowly, I realised, she was the one teaching me. Through her questions, she was showing me how to see again – how to pause, how to notice, how to marvel at the ordinary.

Her curiosity often stopped me in my tracks.

“Aai, why is the moon always following us?”

“How do flowers know when to bloom?”

“Why do people stop dreaming when they grow up?”

Each innocent question pulled me closer to life’s magic – reminding me not to let logic dull wonder, to see the world not through tired eyes, but through a child’s awe.

She reawakened in me the joy of wonder, the courage to ask, and the grace to admit, “I don’t know, let’s find out together." 

Motherhood, I learnt, isn’t about giving answers, it’s about exploring questions together.

Because children don’t just learn from what you know; they help you remember what you once believed. Motherhood taught me that curiosity isn’t childish, it’s sacred. It keeps the heart young, the mind open, and the spirit alive.

And through her eyes, I learnt that growing up doesn’t mean knowing more — it means forgetting less. “A child’s questions are the universe’s way of keeping you awake to its magic.”

A Bridge to the Next Lessons

I am truly enjoying this journey toward Ishita’s 25th, revisiting the years of my becoming, and embracing the becoming that is still unfolding within me. Each reflection feels like a quiet offering; a way of giving back to life, to love, and to every soul who has ever walked this path of motherhood in their own way.

As I continue sharing these reflections, I celebrate not just the journey that has been, but the one that is still becoming. For the story of motherhood is never finished, it simply unfolds, one heartbeat, one lesson, one dawn at a time.