Dear daughter,

Good News. Once you get married in India, there are two English words that will follow you into every gathering – someone else’s wedding, birthday, even a friend’s child Mundan with the same smile – ‘When are you giving the good news?’

Somehow these two innocent words have become the polite shorthand for pressuring young couples to start a family. And the distance between hearing them, and turning Red with embarrassment, to wanting to snap is very short.

I don’t blame people entirely because as a country that only recently moved from joint families to nuclear ones, the idea of privacy, boundaries and personal space haven’t fully arrived yet. What is intrusive to you, may still feel like affection to them.

But this letter isn’t about them. It’s about you.

I want you to know that becoming a mother is a choice. It is not automatic, the next step after marriage. It is not something a woman owes to her family, in-laws, society or her own body. It is one of the biggest life altering decisions two people make together and it deserves to be made like one.

Bringing another human being into the world is one of the most miraculous things I know of and yes, this is a power that God has given to women, but every power comes with responsibility and this one is enormous.

The world will only show you the rosy side of it – baby feet, first smiles, the best nursery but no one tells you that it is a lifelong responsibility. And sorry for being harsh but I don’t think every person is equipped for it. If one can’t give a child a happy childhood, if one can’t provide the basic necessities like food, education, please don’t bring one into this world. Broken relationships and broken homes affect children more than we let ourselves admit.

Nobody should become a mother because she’s a woman. And even if you do choose it, ‘when’ is also your choice.

Careers are demanding, marriages are happening later in life and for a woman the timeline for building a career and the timeline for having children is a painfully parallel. That tension is real. But don’t let anyone shame you for considering it seriously.

Let me tell you my side of it.

You know those ads that used to say ‘Matratv sabse bada sukh hai’, Motherhood is the greatest joy, I truly wanted to punch them. I had motion sickness for almost 7 months until you arrived. I couldn’t stand the smell of onions, finding the right clothes was a serious issue and doing basic everyday things was a struggle.

I had a C-section that took me a very long time to recover from and because of one careless dietician at the hospital, I lost my body shape forever. It took me more than 15 years to accept, understand and finally do something about it.

The first year was really hard, the first few months, brutal. I didn’t know how to read you. Are you hungry? Cranky? or Sleepy? Feeding every two hours left me hollowed out.

On top of it all, everyone had advice to give. Do this, Don’t do that. Try this remedy. Follow this ritual. It took me some time to realise that I did not have to listen to all of it. A trusted Doctor, Nani, and your Dadi were enough.

Every time you fell ill, I panicked. The day you had that huge forehead injury and the way, doctor judged me suspiciously, I was on the verge of crying.

An important meeting at the office and you saying – “Don’t go Mumma” – I felt real guilt. Missing your multiple PTMs, school functions due to office travel are some real moments which pushed me, many times, to an edge where I wanted to quit.

Now that you are a teenager, your closed door, the chats and conversations that I am not part of, and my inner voice constantly questioning whether it was a right time for parental advice or I should have behaved like a friend – is a real dilemma.

When you travel alone or far from us, I am still a little stressed. What you would study, what you will do in life, are constant questions at the back of the mind. And If I have learned one thing in life, its this – Kids are lifelong responsibility. Your job as parent to support them, understand them, help them and be there for them – has no retirement date.

But there is another side.

When you extended your tiny hands, the moment I walked into the door, I felt like the most loved human being on earth. Every time I returned from a trip, you asked what I had bought for you, and even the cashew box from the flight made you over the moon. That was kind of a joy I have never known.

You running in GIP and looking back to check if I was running behind you, seeing that I actually was, you laughed and ran faster – is a core memory of my life.

When you started your school and had endless stories, they melted every bit of the stress, day piled on me. On the occasions when I could accompany you to the park and everyone said – oh, you are her mother! Told me how popular you already were.

When you enacted in front of relatives showing how Mumma talks, I realised how deep the impression we leave on our children.

Watching cartoon shows with you to now that you have grown into a teenager, sitting with you and hearing how you think about the world, how mature you have become, makes me so, so proud of you!

You have filled our lives with the kind of love, joy, and happiness I would have never known otherwise. And for that I am forever grateful. The one year break which I took to raise you feels like nothing in a career of 20+ years.

This is what I want you to understand, my dear daughter.

Both of these are true, the exhaustion and the wonder. The loss of self and discovery of a new one. They are two sides of the same thing.

If you choose one, the other one will come with it.

Just make sure, it is a choice.

With all my love,

Mumma