I didn’t give up my dreams after becoming a mother - I learned to fly higher
Neha Pathak and her baby boy
In this deeply personal reflection, Dr Neha Pathak shares how pregnancy complications, surgery, a newborn, academic pressure, and the demands of returning to work tested her resolve - and taught her that motherhood and ambition do not have to stand in opposition.
When people look at me today, they often see the outcome - a PhD, a career, a working mother managing responsibilities.
What they do not see are the battles hidden behind those achievements. They do not see the surgery during pregnancy, the sleepless nights with a newborn, the tears shed in parked cars before entering the office, or the guilt of leaving a three-month-old baby at home while returning to work.
I decided to share this story because I have seen too many women quietly give up on themselves.
I grew up watching strong women. My mother dedicated her life to raising her children and let go of opportunities that many people would never have left behind. My sister, a state-level athlete and GATE-qualified professional, paused many of her own dreams to prioritise her family.
Their sacrifices built the foundation of our lives, but they also left me with a question that stayed in my heart for years: Why should motherhood require a woman to abandon herself?
Perhaps that question became the seed of my own journey.
On 19 August 2024, I learned that I was pregnant. Like every expecting mother, I was filled with excitement, dreams, and plans for the future. I imagined the first time I would hold my baby, the memories we would create together, and the joy that was waiting for our family.
But life had other plans.
During the fifth month of my pregnancy, I was diagnosed with gallstones. The pain was severe enough to keep me awake through countless nights. Eventually, surgery became unavoidable. Standing outside the operating theatre while carrying a child inside me was one of the most frightening moments of my life.
I was not afraid for myself. I was afraid for the tiny life growing within me. In December 2024, my gallbladder was removed, and the experience taught me something that would define the months ahead: courage is not the absence of fear - it is the decision to move forward despite it.
Then, on 12 April 2025, my son Abhyant, whom we lovingly call Hannu, entered my life.
The moment I held him, the world changed.
“Motherhood is beautiful, but it is also demanding in ways that no one can fully explain.”
Motherhood is beautiful, but it is also demanding in ways that no one can fully explain. Suddenly, your own needs move to the bottom of the list.
You may be hungry but unable to eat because the baby needs you first. You may desperately want a shower but find yourself comforting a crying child instead. Even today, more than a year later, there are mornings when I cannot get ready for work properly because the moment, I wake up, Hannu wakes up too and wants to be held.
These are the realities of motherhood that rarely appear in photographs.
Yet the most difficult challenge was still ahead of me.
Just forty days after my delivery, I had my PhD pre-submission viva in Bareilly while living in Gurugram, India. At the same time, I was recovering from a caesarean section, caring for a newborn, and trying to complete the final stages of years of research.
“There were moments when I doubted myself. Moments when exhaustion felt heavier than ambition. But every time I looked at my son, I reminded myself that one day he would learn from the life I lived, not just the advice I gave.”
Hannu would sleep in my lap while I prepared presentations. I corrected thesis chapters between feeding schedules. Research papers, sleepless nights, and motherhood existed side by side in the same room.
There were moments when I doubted myself. Moments when exhaustion felt heavier than ambition. But every time I looked at my son, I reminded myself that one day he would learn from the life I lived, not just the advice I gave.
The hardest decision came when Hannu was only three months old and I had to return to work.
I was still breastfeeding. Physically, I was recovering. Emotionally, I was nowhere near ready. But life does not always wait for us to feel prepared. During my pregnancy, financial responsibilities continued. EMIs had to be paid, household expenses had to be managed, and my husband had already carried more than his share of the burden during a difficult period.
“My husband stood beside me through every challenge… He never asked me to choose between my dreams and my responsibilities. Instead, he reminded me that I was capable of carrying both.”
Every morning before leaving for work, I would hold my baby a little longer. Sometimes I cried after leaving home. Sometimes I sat quietly before entering the office, trying to gather myself together. No achievement, no examination, and no professional milestone have ever felt as difficult as walking away from my three-month-old child for the first time.
What made the journey harder was not the workload - it was the judgment.
People often assume that a working mother must be compromising her child’s happiness. I heard comments about whether I was giving my son enough time, whether a career was necessary, and whether working parents were somehow responsible for every difficult moment in a child’s behaviour.
Over time, I stopped trying to explain.
Because some answers do not need words.
My son’s smile is my answer.
The way he runs into my arms is my answer.
The bond we share is my answer.
A mother’s love cannot be measured by the number of hours she spends beside her child. Love is measured by presence, commitment, and the countless sacrifices no one else sees.
However, if there is one thing I want every reader to know, it is that this journey was never mine alone.
My husband stood beside me through every challenge. During periods of financial uncertainty, medical complications, academic pressure, and emotional exhaustion, he remained my strongest support system. He never asked me to choose between my dreams and my responsibilities. Instead, he reminded me that I was capable of carrying both.
My parents gave me the courage to dream. My siblings reminded me that I was never alone. And my mother-in-law and father-in-law supported me with understanding, encouragement, and trust when I needed it most.
Every achievement that carries my name also carries a part of theirs.
“Motherhood is not the end of your story. It is not the end of your identity. It is not the end of your dreams. Sometimes, it is the beginning of the strongest version of yourself.”
Today, when people ask me about my greatest achievement, I do not immediately think of my PhD, my job, or any professional milestone.
I think of something much simpler.
I think of the fact that I never allowed motherhood and my dreams to become enemies.
I chose my child.
And I chose my dreams.
At the same time.
That is why I am sharing this story.
Not because I believe I am extraordinary, but because I know countless women are living similar journeys. Women who are exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure of themselves. Women who are afraid that motherhood might mean the end of their ambitions.
To them, I want to say this:
Motherhood is not the end of your story.
It is not the end of your identity.
It is not the end of your dreams.
Sometimes, it is the beginning of the strongest version of yourself.
And if one day my son remembers anything about me, I hope it is not my degree, my designation, or my achievements. I hope he remembers that his mother faced fear, exhaustion, judgment, and uncertainty - and still kept moving forward.
Because degrees hang on walls.
Awards sit on shelves.
But courage lives on for generations.