Parenting – The Most Beautiful Journey of Life 1

0 to 1 Year

We often believe that falling in love with someone is life’s greatest experience. But have you ever imagined the depth of love when an extension of your own body, mind, and soul loves you unconditionally? That’s the pure, sacred love of a child. Parenting is a blessing—an opportunity to nurture and shape a life with love that is accepted without question, and in turn, moulds the child’s very being. Its like we gift ourselves a live toy to play with- lifelong.

So, when should one become a parent? Only when we fully comprehend the magnitude of this responsibility. Unplanned parenting often strips away the joy from this journey. But true parenting? It is the most adventurous, nostalgic, and fulfilling experience one can ever have—far more rewarding than winning a billion-dollar lottery or travelling the world. It is a journey you live each day, every moment, for the rest of your life.

I am a single mother. My husband passed away when my son was just a year old and my daughter was three. When they were born, I had said to him, “God has given us a second chance to be perfect. If we better ourselves, our children will be reflections of that perfection.” Children observe, absorb, and mirror their parents’ virtues and habits. His early departure meant that I had to step into both roles— mother and father—and do justice to each.

Even before birth, I bonded with my babies. I’d spoke to them, told them stories—tales of Cleopatra and Cinderella, Alexander the Great and Vivekananda – educating them passively. I would feel their little responses in the womb—gentle nudges, sudden kicks. When they were restless, I’d sing or play music, and they would calm down. I was overwhelmed with gratitude that these little souls had chosen me. I had already begun experiencing motherhood before they were even born.

During my pregnancy, I kept a photo of my late husband under my pillow. Every morning, I opened my eyes to his face—and when my children were born, they looked exactly like him.

Breastfeeding, I knew, was not only critical for immunity but essential for a child’s emotional foundation. A baby who is fed on demand learns early: “My need is fulfilled by the world. This world is a safe place. I am loved.” This plants deep roots of security and trust, which later help them face life’s setbacks with resilience.

But when Ryllee was born, I was at my mother’s house, and she would feed her tinned milk before I could nurse her. Recovering from a C-section and unable to oppose, I could only grieve silently. For two months, I expressed and discarded milk, heartbroken. I fell into postnatal depression. Eventually, I returned to Mumbai and began feeding her myself. To recover emotionally, I enrolled in a Pranayama class, which healed me mentally and physically.

At three months, I gently made her wait for milk—her first lesson in patience. She began to learn that not all demands are instantly met. This would help her later in life, to remain hopeful even through failure.

Even during brief errands, I would wrap her in my worn gown so she could smell me, and record my voice to be played if she awoke. I wanted her to feel I was always with her.

As long as I breastfed, she was shielded from illness, and we travelled freely—to forests, hills, and seashores. But once she began eating solids, I began preparing her for the world. I told her, “If anyone touches your private parts, say: ‘I’ll tell Mumma.’” I had been molested at three. I wanted her subconscious to be ready, her instincts sharp. I told my husband before his passing, “She’s a girl—never trust any man except you & our fathers.”

Thanks to our prenatal conversations, Ryllee began speaking by seven months. I was physically active— yoga, walks, household chores—and she mirrored that energy. She crawled by five months, stood at seven.

With my son Pema, I was more in control. I breastfed him peacefully for a year. He would fall asleep on my chest, sometimes urinating in his sleep. That simple act taught him something profound—just as he received from the world, he also gave. The seeds of balance—of giving and receiving—were sown in his first year.

… to be continued.

-Mondreeta Sengupta Das is a national award-winning author, mountaineer, life coach, and spiritual healer, currently serving as Vice President, TOGA, Ministry of Tourism.