When you’re a new mum, everyone checks in. The calls, the texts, the advice you didn’t ask for, it all pours in at once. But slowly, almost quietly, that attention fades. People move on, the novelty wears off, and you’re left figuring things out on your own. Because here’s the truth: you don’t stop being a mum just because the world stops noticing.
Motherhood is this endless, shape-shifting thing. The challenges evolve, but the need for support never really goes away. You just get better at masking it, at doing things solo, at carrying it all, sometimes gracefully, sometimes not.
When my daughter was born, the world had shut down. Borders were closed, airports were silent, and I had no family around. Even if they wanted to be there, they couldn’t. My baby arrived in the middle of a global pandemic, and like many mums of that strange, uncertain time, I learnt to mother in isolation.
I won’t take all the credit, though. I had kind colleagues, understanding bosses, and a husband who stood rock solid beside me. Still, one truth hit me early: motherhood can be incredibly lonely.
Motherhood with a pandemic baby
Because my daughter was born during the pandemic, her world was small- no bustling Indian family gatherings, no big hugs from grandparents, no chaotic birthday parties. She’s soft-spoken, gentle, the quiet observer in a room full of chatter. She takes after her dad.
But people are quick to label. “She’s shy,” they’d say. If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d be a millionaire by now. What they didn’t see was her warmth, her thoughtfulness, her way of slowly opening up like sunlight through curtains.
When she was almost two, I did what most parents in my neighbourhood did, enrolled her in Riverlife Kindergarten. It’s a lovely Christian school just around the corner, and I remember the anxiety vividly. She was barely 20 months old, still my baby, and I wasn’t sure either of us was ready. But we were lucky. We found a school that felt like an extended family.
The village I didn’t expect
From day one, her class teacher, Teacher Jasmine, made everything easier. She sent me daily updates- what my daughter ate, whether she napped, even whether she pooed (every parent of a toddler knows how important that last one is!).
The principal, Ms Tan, has always been so involved, she is approachable, responsive and genuinely kind. It wasn’t just a school; it was a community that saw both the child and the parent. The teachers, the admin staff, even the helpers, they’ve all played a part in shaping my daughter’s early years.
Last year, I received a call from the school. They wanted to discuss how we could help my daughter thrive better. I listened carefully, worked on the feedback, and did everything I could to support her. I didn’t think much of it, just doing what mums do. But a few months later, something unexpected happened.
A moment of recognition
The school nominated me for a recognition programme by ECDA (Early Childhood Development Agency) under the “Our Wonderful Parents” initiative. And I actually received an award- a small token, but one that meant the world to me.
When I get frustrated, I often joke that being a mum is a thankless job. There are no trophies, no promotions, no annual appraisals. But that day, I couldn’t say that anymore.
It wasn’t just about the award, it was about being seen. It was about someone saying, “We notice what you’re doing. It matters.” And for a mother who had once felt invisible in the chaos of feeding schedules, sleepless nights and silent worries, that acknowledgment felt deeply emotional.
What I’ve learnt
Motherhood is not a straight road; it’s a winding path of lessons, laughter and little heartbreaks. It’s lonely, beautiful, messy and magical- often all at once.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that support doesn’t always look the way you expect. Sometimes it’s not from family or friends, but from teachers, colleagues, or even strangers who show up at just the right time.
And maybe that’s the quiet miracle of motherhood, you start out thinking you’re doing it all alone, but somewhere along the way, you realise you were never really alone at all.
Also read: The one wellness appointment most mums forget—and why it matters more than you think
