There are moments in a mother’s life that feel like quiet earthquakes—unseen, unheard, yet deeply shaking the core of who you are.
For me, one such moment was leaving my one-year-old child at home and stepping back into work.
As a mother, it was overwhelming. The guilt was real, the separation anxiety was intense, and the emotional tug felt almost unbearable. But as a Developmental Pediatrician and Pediatric Neurologist, it became even more complicated. Because when you understand child development deeply, you also understand the fragility of those early years.
Every day, as I stepped out, a question echoed within me—Would my absence leave an emotional imprint on my child’s developing brain?
That silent fear followed me everywhere.
But somewhere between my clinical practice and my personal journey, something began to shift. Watching countless children, interacting with families, and guiding parents through their concerns slowly gave me a new perspective—one that I had perhaps been giving others, but had not fully embraced myself.
I realized that what a child truly needs is not just the constant presence of the mother.
A child needs safety.
A child needs nutritious food.
A child needs a secure and predictable environment.
And most importantly, a child needs PEOPLE.
Not just mommy, but a circle of emotionally available, responsive, and loving caregivers.
This realization was liberating.
The journey that followed was not easy, but it was intentional. It began with small steps—gradual weaning, creating a comforting environment at home even in my absence, and building trust with grandparents, Neighbours and caregivers. It required me to let go of the belief that ” I ” alone was indispensable.
And that was the hardest part.
But I made a conscious decision to practice what I preach.
Every day at work, I would counsel parents about structure, consistency, engagement, and emotional connection. It was time I applied the same principles to my own parenting.
After long days of seeing children with special needs, my fears would sometimes intensify. I would overanalyse, overthink, and worry if I was doing enough, or worsedoing something wrong. But gradually, I learned to channel that fear into mindful parenting rather than anxious parenting.
One of the most important changes I made was redefining my time with my child.
I stopped focusing on the quantity of time and started valuing the quality of it.
When I returned home, I made a conscious effort to be fully present. No phones, no distractions, no multitasking. Those moments belonged entirely to her.
We did not engage in structured teaching or “learning activities.” There were no flashcards or forced skill-building sessions. Instead, we embraced simplicity—playing with a ball, jumping on pillows, laughing endlessly, and just being together.
And in those moments, I realized that connection does not require complexity.
It requires presence.
Gradually, we built our own rhythm. Mornings, playtime, meals, naps, and evenings all found their place in a predictable routine. Responsibilities were sharedno one person carried the entire burden. This not only reduced stress but also ensured that my child was surrounded by multiple caregivers who each contributed to her emotional world.
Even the smallest daily rituals became meaningful. Cooking her favorite food together (with careful supervision), tidying up her toys that she had joyfully scattered across the house together, going for evening walks, and ending the day with bedtime stories.
Interestingly, she insisted on the same stories every nightwith the same excitement, the same curiosity, and the same sparkle in her eyes.
I may have grown tired of repeating thembut she never did.
And that taught me something profound about childrenthey find comfort in predictability, not novelty.
Our weekends also reflected a conscious parenting choice. There were no elaborate outings, no fancy malls, no structured play zones, and no “performance-driven” childhood experiences. Instead, Sundays were reserved for simple get-togethers with family and friends.
She played freely with other children, bonded with adults, explored nature, splashed in rain puddles, played in the sand, and plucked flowers and leaves in gardens.
She wasn’t being “trained.” She was being allowed to experience childhood.
And that, I realized, is where true development lies.
Then came a moment that truly tested everything I believed in.
At just 2 years and 9 months, she expressed a desire to go to her aunt’s place in Dubai—without us.
My immediate reaction was anxiety. How would she manage? Would she feel secure? Would they understand her half-formed words and babbles? Would she miss us?would I be able to reach to her in overseas in emergency ?
But when I looked at her, I didn’t see fear. I saw excitement. Curiosity. Confidence.
And I remembered all the times I had advised parents to trust their children, to give them opportunities to adapt, to allow them to grow.
This was my moment to live my own advice.
So, with a mix of courage and vulnerability, I let her go.
Those 25 days were not easy for me. The house felt unusually silent. There were no toys scattered around, no evening giggles, no bedtime routines. I missed her deeply.
But then the calls began.
“She is so cheerful.”
“She is so well-adjusted.”
“No tantrums.”
“She is eating things she never ate at home.”
And in that moment, I realized that I had underestimated her.
A little butterfly had found her wings.
That experience reinforced something deeply within mechildren are far more resilient than we think. When given a secure foundation, they adapt, they explore, and they thrive.
Today, when it comes to vacations, we do not chase destinations.
For her, the most meaningful place is her grandmother’s homeNaani’s house.
Not because we imposed it, but because she chose it.
She chose stories over screens, relationships over recreation, and roots over luxury.
And that choice reflects the values she is absorbing, which i had absorbed in my childhood.
As a mother, as a Developmental Pediatrician, and as a child neurologist, my journey has taught me one fundamental truth:
Genius is not createdit is genetic.
But values, resilience, adaptability, and emotional strength are nurtured.
Love is not about being possessive or constantly present. It is not about trying to optimize every moment to make a child more intelligent.
Love is about preparing a child for life.
It is about teaching them how to manage situations, how to connect with people, how to adapt to change, and how to stand strong even in our absence.
Because one day, we will not always be there.
And what will remain is not our presence, but our imprint.
A mini version of us carrying forward our values.
My parenting is deeply influenced by my clinical practice. Every child I see, every parent I interact with, adds a layer to my understanding. This journey is also a tribute to my mentor, Dr. Samir H Dalwai, and to my workplace, New Horizons Child Development Centre, which has given me the freedom to go beyond textbooks and truly understand children through experience.
In the end, motherhood is not about being everything for your child.
It is about building a world where your child learns to be something on their own.
Because the goal is not to raise a dependent child, but a resilient, rooted, and confident human being.
Is it harmful for a working mother to leave her infant or toddler at home?
Not inherently. Research in child development consistently shows that what matters most for a child’s emotional security is not the constant physical presence of one caregiver, but the quality of the caregiving environment warmth, responsiveness, predictability, and the presence of multiple trusted adults. A mother who returns home fully present and emotionally connected contributes deeply to her child’s development, even if her hours together are fewer.
How do I manage the guilt of being a working parent?
Guilt is almost universal among working parents, and it is important to acknowledge that feeling without letting it drive anxious or overcompensating parenting. Redirecting that energy into intentional, distraction-free time with your child even if it is just an hour in the evening is far more valuable than guilt-driven quantity of time. If guilt is persistent and affecting your wellbeing, speaking with a counsellor or your child’s developmental paediatrician can help reframe it constructively.
At what age can a child spend time away from their primary caregiver without it being damaging?
There is no single universal age, as every child is different. What matters more than age is the security of the child’s attachment, the familiarity and warmth of the alternate caregivers, and the gradual, supported nature of the separation. A child who has a stable, loving home environment and exposure to other trusted adults from early on tends to adapt to brief separations far more easily. If you have concerns specific to your child, a developmental paediatrician can offer personalised guidance.
What does “quality time” with a child actually look like practically?
Quality time does not require activities, toys, or structured learning. It means being physically present and emotionally available no screens, no multitasking, no half-attention. Simple shared experiences like cooking together, evening walks, free play, or bedtime stories where the child leads the conversation are among the most developmentally rich interactions a parent can offer. Children do not need stimulation; they need connection.
My child prefers to hear the same story or do the same activity repeatedly. Is this normal?
Absolutely. Repetition is one of the most natural and healthy aspects of early childhood. Children find deep comfort in predictability, it reinforces their understanding of the world and builds a sense of safety. Repeated stories, songs, and routines are not signs of limited imagination; they are signs of a child actively consolidating learning and feeling secure.
How can I build resilience in my young child?
Resilience is not taught in structured sessions, it is absorbed through everyday experiences. Allowing children to navigate minor frustrations, play freely with other children, spend time with a variety of trusted adults, adapt to small changes in routine, and experience the natural consequences of their choices all contribute to resilience. The parent’s role is to be a secure base available and warm, not to remove every obstacle from the child’s path.
Is it okay to send a toddler to stay with relatives for an extended period?
? If the child has a warm, established relationship with those relatives and the environment is safe and loving, short to medium separations can actually be enriching, expanding the child’s social world and building adaptability. The key indicators to watch are the child’s emotional state (excited and curious is a good sign), the caregivers’ ability to understand and respond to the child’s communication, and a clear plan for regular contact with the parents. As always, follow your child’s cues, not just your own anxiety.
Contributed by –
Dr Lekha Tiwari
MBBS, MD Pediatrics, Fellow in Pediatric Neurology and Epilepsy
Consultant Neurodevelopment Pediatrician
Program Lead – New Horizons Developmental Program (NHDP)
New Horizons Child Development Centre – Mumbai | Vadodara | Online