Exactly 10 years ago.
My daughter was just three months old.
She didn’t know how to sit. Didn’t know how to talk.
She was just rolling around… smiling at the ceiling fan… living in her own small universe.
And I was still rolling in the sky of becoming a father.
My wife was in her native. I was driving between Chennai, Madurai and Pollachi like a shuttle service. Highway tea shops were my silent companions. Early morning drives. Late night returns. Phone calls in between.
Business was going good.
I had a solid team. Energy was high.
That was the time I was seriously working on my coffee shop initiative — ideas, branding thoughts, concepts, locations, numbers, dreams. Filter coffee was not just a drink. It was a possibility.
Friend time had reduced.
Not intentionally. Life was just expanding.
But still, I made sure I showed up.
Green Park in Chennai.
Union Club in Madurai.
Those were my meeting spots. Laughter. Business talks. Political debates. Life updates. Some evenings were heavy, some were light, but they kept me grounded.
Bangalore visits had reduced.
Before 2015, Bangalore used to be almost a weekly emotion.
After that, priorities shifted. Travel changed direction. Responsibilities quietly took the driver’s seat.
That was also the period when I purchased two houses in Madurai.
And the construction of my present house was happening brick by brick. I still remember walking through half-built walls, imagining furniture, imagining children running around.
Today when I think back…
I don’t remember the stress.
I don’t remember the tiredness.
I remember the movement.
I remember the building phase.
I remember the silent excitement.
A 3-month-old baby.
A growing business.
Under-construction dreams.
Reduced Bangalore trips.
More responsibilities.
Life was not slow.
Life was not easy.
But life was beautifully in motion.
Ten years passed quietly.
But that version of me — driving highways, carrying dreams, and learning fatherhood — still smiles somewhere inside.
And that 3-month-old baby?
She is ten now.
Time really doesn’t ask permission before it moves.
Tag: fatherhood
When Parenting Engulfs You: My Silent Struggle Raising Two Young Kids Alone
When people see a smiling parent with a child on each arm, they often think of joy, completeness, and warmth. But behind that photo, there can be stories of exhaustion, frustration, and a kind of loneliness that’s hard to describe.
From the very beginning, even before our second child was born, there were challenges. My in-laws strongly believed that having a second child was a bad idea, and they convinced my wife the same. Every time there’s an argument between us now, this topic comes back: that she didn’t fully analyze the challenges ahead. It makes me angry because, in my heart, I always believed I didn’t want to raise a single pampered child. I wanted my first child to have a sibling, a lifelong companion. This decision was never just about me — it was about building a family with deeper bonds, even if it meant going through harder days.
From the day my second child was born, life changed completely. We had no support system. No parents or in-laws stepping in to help, no extended family to call on, no trusted house help to share the load. It was just us, and every day felt like a survival mission.
People often say, “it takes a village to raise a child.” With my first child, I had that village. My in-laws supported us, and those memories felt like heaven — a beautiful, light-filled chapter of parenting. But with my second child, that village was gone. I became everything: the caretaker, the cook, the cleaner, the comforter, the entertainer, the teacher. From sleepless nights to endless school preparations, every moment demanded my full energy and presence.
In the process, my professional life took a huge hit. I went into procrastination because of constant mind fog. Work deadlines felt heavier, focus slipped away, and important opportunities quietly passed me by. My business struggled, and while outsiders only saw the missed targets and failures, they didn’t see the mental battles and emotional exhaustion that led me there.
At home, the constant focus on the kids created a silent gap with my spouse. Conversations turned into pure logistics: who would handle which meltdown. The small, loving moments that kept our bond alive quietly faded, replaced by stress and quiet resentment.
Yet despite all the anxiety, frustration, and helplessness, I cherished every moment with my second child. Even in the chaos, I found joy. I built precious memories, laughed through exhaustion, and watched my child grow closely every single day. It truly felt like a heaven inside a hell — beautiful moments glowing in the middle of struggle and darkness.
With support, those years could have been even better, perhaps closer to the lightness I experienced with my first child. But despite everything, I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.
Parenting is beautiful, but when done alone and without support, it can swallow you whole. If you’re going through this, I want you to know: you’re not alone. You deserve understanding, you deserve support, and you deserve to cherish those beautiful moments without the heavy weight of judgment.
AnandNataraj 