25 Years of Motherhood, 25 Years of Becoming - Part 4

By Dr. Anupama Vaidya (hc)   

It’s truly heartening to read so many of your messages, sharing how you’ve been re-living your own parenting journeys, feeling nostalgic, and finding reflections of your stories through mine.

I’m deeply touched that what began as our milestone now feels like a shared celebration — of Love, Learning, and Life itself.

Motherhood, I’ve realized, connects us beyond time and circumstance. Each story may differ, yet the emotions — the pride, the patience, the letting go — are universal. (and not only motherhood, many of you as fathers are also sharing similar emotions on your messages! I am really touched!!!) 

As I continue this journey of, the next set of reflections (Lessons 10 to 15) trace a gentle evolution — from holding to releasing, from guiding to co-creating, from teaching to learning anew.

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

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

• Learning 10: The Art of Letting Go, One Step at a Time
• Learning 11: The Courage to Choose Calm
• Learning 12: When Love Teaches Discipline
• Learning 13: When Listening Becomes Love

• Learning 14: The Joy of Shared Decisions

• Learning 15:  Subtle shifts, the Projects that Built Us Both

So here are the lessons 10-15... ...

10. The Art of Letting Go, One Step at a Time

She was just five and a half months old.

I had left her for a moment, only to return and find her sitting upright – steady, proud, and utterly herself, flashing that wide, triumphant smile. For a few seconds, I froze. The tiny being who needed my support was now learning to balance on her own. Phase after phase, she grew through milestones, standing at seven months, running before her first birthday and then there was no looking back.

That moment of sitting upright, has stayed with me far beyond infancy. It has become a quiet metaphor for everything that was to follow.

The first time she took a step without holding my hand, I smiled… and silently panicked. That invisible thread that had bound us since birth stretched a little that day. First time she crossed the road alone. The first school drop-off, the first night away. Each time, my heart clenched, and expanded all at once.

Then came the bigger leaps. The Rotary Youth Exchange program that has been a great foundational investment to shaping her, took her away from me for a year when she was barely fifteen. And later, the day she left for the University of Leeds to pursue her graduation.

Every milestone, from baby steps to boarding gates to the “I’ll do it myself”, carried within me equal parts pride and ache.

Through it all,  I’ve been learning and still a lot to come, that motherhood is the art of holding on gently, so they feel safe enough to let go. Because every step away isn’t a loss of closeness, it’s a gain of confidence.

Motherhood taught me that letting go is not the end of holding – it’s holding differently, with trust instead of touch. “Love lets go — not to lose, but to let grow" 

11. The Courage to Choose Calm

When my little darling Ishita began picking up a pencil, I realized that this was a new kind of learning, not hers alone but mine too.

In those early days, her 2’s, 7’s and b’s and d’s, all seemed to dance in mirror images, and numbers sent her face into a quiet panic.

I still remember holding her hand patiently through her nursery and primary school days, helping her complete her homework. One afternoon, we sat together working on “100 divided by 10”, a seemingly simple task that felt impossibly hard that day. She  must have been six, maybe seven.

I, impatient & anxious, tried explaining with pencils, crayons, erasers, anything I could find. But she only looked at me with those big, tearful eyes, and my calm slipped away.

That night, I felt like I had failed.

And then, as if by divine design, I happened to watch Taare Zameen Par. I cried through the film, not because it was about a child’s struggle, but because it was about a mother’s awakening. I realized:  

She didn’t need perfection from me. She needed presence.

She didn’t need correction, she needed connection.

That evening changed everything. I stopped trying to fix her, and started understanding her. I began to celebrate her uniqueness, her rhythm, her quiet brilliance that didn’t always fit the world’s templates.

And then life, in its quiet way, kept testing that calm – mornings chaos, spilt milk, running late, forgotten homework.

Some days demanded more patience than others. But slowly, I learnt that calm isn’t what happens when things are perfect; it’s what you bring when they aren’t.

When I chose patience over panic, grace over control, I noticed, the energy of our home changed too. Even today, this is a learning I go through with her… where she calms me down when I have a handful of things happening together.

A mother’s calm isn’t silent, it’s stabilizing. It anchors the entire household.

Motherhood taught me that calm is not weakness; it’s wisdom, a quiet courage that transforms chaos into connection. Calmness is the pause between reaction and understanding. The space where love grows deeper. “Calm doesn’t come naturally — it’s a choice you make, every time love asks you to listen before you respond.”

12. When Love Teaches Discipline

In the apartment complex we were staying in, there was an evening funfair — stalls with games, food, laughter, and music filling the air.

Among them stood an ice-cream stall, glowing like a magnet for every child. My little one’s eyes lit up instantly. She wanted to go down and enjoy, and so did I.

But as a mother, another thought tugged at me, her runny nose. I could already sense the tug-of-war that was about to begin.

That’s when my mother stepped in, gently offering wisdom that has stayed with me ever since: “Don’t wait for her to ask, explain before she does. Set the boundary with love before the emotion takes over.”

That day, I learnt that discipline doesn’t begin with denial. It begins with dialogue.

As life unfolded and challenges tested us, especially being a single parent, it would have been easy to overcompensate, to shield her from every “no.”

But my inner voice, and often my mother’s, kept me grounded. I realised: 

I had to love, not pamper.

I wasn’t just raising a child; I was raising a human being.

Saying “no” sometimes broke my heart more than hers.

But over the years, I realized: 

Love that always says Yes is 'comfort', not 'care'.

There were moments when my “no” was met with tears, silence, or resistance. And yet, beneath it all, I knew — those boundaries were not walls; they were pathways meant to help her grow, not confine her.

Teaching discipline was never about control; it was about consistency. Learning:

to be firm without losing tenderness,

to correct without crushing curiosity,

to guide without governing.

Sometimes, love means standing your ground, even when your heart wants to give in.

Because children may not always understand your firmness in that moment, 

but one day, they recognize it as safety, the love that protected even when it didn’t please.

Over time, I learnt that “tough love” isn’t about being harsh. It’s about being honest, steady, and present, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Motherhood taught me that discipline, when rooted in love, doesn’t distance. It deepens trust. It teaches that freedom is not the absence of boundaries, but the wisdom to understand them. “True discipline is love in motion — firm in tone, gentle in intent, and faithful in purpose.”

13. When Listening Becomes Love

As Ishita grew older, she began to share more of her mind.

Her thoughts, her confusions, her convictions.

And I’ll admit, my instinct as a mother often wanted to protect, fix, and advise. But I slowly realized, not every sharing seeks a solution.

Sometimes, our children don’t need answers; they just need a space to be heard.

There were days she came home quiet, words half-formed, emotions unsure.

And I would begin to offer suggestions until I saw that gentle withdrawal, that quiet closing-in that every parent eventually learns to recognize.

That’s when I understood: she didn’t need my wisdom, she needed my witness.

Over the years, I learnt that love matures when it learns to listen without interruption, guide without intrusion, and care without control.

It’s not about having the right words; it’s about having the right presence.

There is power in simply sitting beside your child.

No judgment, No hurry, No advice - just presence.

That’s when hearts open, and healing begins. Her words still echo in my heart, “Maa, don’t become my mom right now,…... just let me share."

Motherhood taught me that silence isn’t the absence of care; sometimes, it’s the purest expression of it. “Listening is love in its most patient form  - the art of hearing what isn’t said, and holding space without the need to fill it.”

14. The Joy of Shared Decisions

Whether it was her first birthday dress, her choice of storybooks, or even the kind of omelette she wanted for breakfast (choice of recipe, not the egg itself 😊), even as a toddler, I often found joy in offering Ishita small choices. They weren’t about indulgence; they were about learning decision-making. The art of expressing preference, of having a say, of feeling heard.

Over time, these little choices became practice grounds for something deeper, a voice of her own.

I still remember vividly that evening in Hong Kong. I was planning our next day’s visit to Langkawi — the itinerary laid out in my usual, well-thought-through manner. Speaking with her like a little friend (she was just ten), I began explaining the options — the boat ride, the ropeway, the viewpoints we could explore. More so for her to know how we explore options before we converge to the making the choice. 

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, as I was about to share the choice we were making, she quicky said, “Maa, why don’t we go one way by boat and return by ropeway? We’ll see both sides of the sea!”

I froze for a second, not because it was a big idea, but because it was hers.

In that simple, childlike suggestion was a spark of ownership, curiosity, and perspective;  the very qualities I had always hoped to nurture.

That day taught me that decision-making isn’t a skill to be taught, it’s a space to be given. Without realizing it, I had been nurturing it all along,

through conversations about choices,

through explaining the logic behind options,

through letting her participate rather than just comply.

Children learn to choose when we trust them to.

From picking a dress to proposing a plan, each choice builds confidence, self-trust, and accountability.

Through motherhood, I realized that it isn’t enough to teach children how to decide; we must help them build the acumen and courage to decide.

And sometimes, the smallest choices they make with conviction become the foundation for the biggest ones they’ll take in life.

Today, when I see her navigate life independently, I know those early decisions were her first steps toward wisdom. “Decision-making begins not with answers, but with the freedom to choose and the trust to learn from it.”

15. Subtle shifts, the Projects that Built Us Both

I remember those school projects. Right from her pre-nursery through the growing years.

For many, they were chores to be managed; for me, they were lessons in project management – design, materials, execution, teamwork and the quiet joy of end result.

While many parents sighed, “These school projects are more work for us than for our kids,” I would simply smile.

Because for me, they were never a burden. They were our shared playground of imagination. 

Even in the midst of my hectic corporate career, I always made time for those projects while she watched. Curious, wide-eyed, adding a sticker here, a sketch there.

Soon, she began sitting beside me, asking questions, offering ideas, her little mind brimming with curiosity.

Then came a quiet shift, almost unnoticed shift. Our roles began to evolve. She started leading. By the time I returned home from work, she would already have a rough sketch ready. A message in my inbox: “Maa, can you buy this item for project?”

We would then then sit together, co-creating, refining, bringing ideas to life.

And slowly, those sketches began turning into finished projects, ready even before I arrived. Her initiative took shape; her confidence began to shine.

I found myself sitting back in admiration, watching her mind unfold.

Thoughtful, creative, and beautifully her own.

I did not realize how this change came through. It arrived subtly, without knocking, without noise – like a gentle tide that shifts the shore (sitting in Maldives by the beach side when writing this one!)

Each project became a reflection of her growth; 

from my creation to our collaboration, and finally, to her expression.

And in that transition, I realized that motherhood, too mirrors the same journey.

you begin by building for them,

you move to building with them, and one day, 

you stand back and let them build on their own.

It’s not about letting go; it’s about watching them take flight,  

With wings crafted from all the moments of shared creation.

Through those simple charts and cardboard models, and bursts of glue-stained laughter,  I learned a profound truth:

Motherhood is not about completing their work; it’s about completing their confidence. “The real project of motherhood is not what you make with your hands, but what you awaken in their hearts.”

A Bridge to the Next Lessons: 

These are stories of balance and becoming. Of learning the art of letting go one step at a time, choosing calm amidst chaos, saying “no” with love, listening beyond words, sharing decisions, and finally, watching co-creation blossom into confidence.

Because every phase of motherhood teaches us this timeless truth — we don’t stop growing when our children do; we grow differently, more quietly, and often, more deeply.

As we approach 25th October, Ishita and me are once again on our annual vacation, celebrating the journey of the 25 years of becoming, and preparing for the next 25 and then beyond.... For the story of motherhood is never finished, it simply unfolds, one heartbeat, one lesson, one dawn at a time.