Becoming Parents: How new parents rewrite identity, love and everyday life

Learn the new rhythm: Abhishek Sinha and Sangeeta Dhanak

At seven weeks old, Rudra was already on a flight with his parents, Abhishek Sinha and Sangeeta Dhanak. It is not the version of early parenthood most people expect. For this Dubai-based couple, the first year has felt more like a quiet, steady shift into something fuller, even as it reshapes everything they thought they knew.

They began with a plan. “We had a fairly structured idea of what the first year would look like,” they say, expecting to balance work, travel and some version of their old routine. What surprised them was how naturally that structure gave way. “It never felt like our baby boy was an addition; it felt like he had always been a part of our lives.”

The change has been constant, even if it did not feel abrupt. Their days no longer belong to them in the same way. “It is all-consuming,” they say, “but it also feels more purposeful than ever.” The unpredictability has forced a shift in mindset, one that leans less on control and more on instinct.

That shift extends to how they see themselves. Routine is no longer driven by productivity. It is shaped by presence. “You’re no longer just you; you’re someone’s entire world,” they say. The physical changes are part of it too. “It becomes less about how your body looks and more about what it has done,” they add, noting that this takes time to accept.

Their relationship has been tested in quieter ways. Sleep is limited. Time together is fragmented. “Even simple things like having an uninterrupted conversation or meal together become rare,” they say. The harder moments come when both are exhausted and still need to show up.

At the same time, the shift has strengthened their dynamic. “You start operating more like a team than ever before,” they say, describing a shared rhythm that has replaced their earlier independence.

Advice has been another challenge. It comes from everywhere and often contradicts itself. “I’ve learned to treat advice as guidance, not rules,” they say. Medical input takes priority, but beyond that, instinct leads. “If you follow his cues and trust your instinct, it simplifies a lot of the noise.”

The wins are smaller now, though they carry more weight. A morning smile. A moment to sit and eat. A quick coffee together. “These small, everyday moments hold everything together,” they say.

What is harder to articulate is the constant mental load. “It’s an invisible checklist that never really switches off,” they say. Alongside is that stretch of time, where days feel long and months pass quickly.

So they take it one day at a time. Let go of perfection. Hold on to what matters. “It’s the baby’s smiles and little coos that act as the greatest balm,” they say, a reminder that even in the exhaustion, something deeper is taking shape.

A different pace: Dimple Aswani and Arjun Goradia

For Dimple Aswani and Arjun Goradia, the arrival of their 6-month-old son Kabir has shifted life away from structure into something more fluid, where days are shaped less by schedules and more by instinct, emotion and a pace they are still learning to accept.

Dimple expected a certain order in the early months. “I imagined the first year as something gently structured,” she says, picturing feeding schedules and milestones falling into place. What unfolded instead feels more unpredictable, often stretching into the early hours. “It’s been far less about schedules and far more about rhythms,” she says, adding that even unexpected moments hold charm.

What caught her off guard was the intensity of the emotional shift. The smallest changes carry weight now. “His smile, a new sound, or the way he recognises us,” she says, describing how these moments fill her day in a way she did not anticipate. That presence has reshaped how she sees herself. Her routine now revolves entirely around Kabir, though she does not describe it as limiting. “It feels purposeful,” she says. Her perspective on her body has shifted as well. “It feels less like something to bounce back and more like something to respect,” she says.

Professionally, she has stepped away from her earlier pace as a lawyer. The decision feels intentional. “Choosing to slow down and be present feels deeply fulfilling,” she says, describing a trade that places moments over deadlines.

Their relationship has taken on a new dimension, with a deeper connection forming. “Watching him be such an involved and loving father has deepened my respect and love for him,” she says. They move through the days as a unit, stepping in for each other without discussion.

The wins, also are small and immediate. A full feed. A peaceful nap. A new expression. “Some days, a full nap feels like winning a marathon,” she says. These moments anchor her, giving shape to days that might otherwise blur.

Support from her husband and family has helped steady the experience. Over time, the slower pace has begun to settle in. “Even on the most tiring days, I know these moments are fleeting,” she says.

No time to pause: Emiliana D’Andrea and Daniel Sarmiento

The first few weeks after a baby arrives are often described in soft focus. For Emiliana D’Andrea and Daniel Sarmiento, the reality sharpens quickly. Days stretch, nights blur, and the idea of rest becomes something theoretical rather than lived. At two months in for her baby Alex, she is already clear on one thing: the first year does not follow the script people hand you.

She expected it to be manageable. “Everyone said babies just sleep all day,” she says. What she meets instead is constant demand. Feeding and changing are only part of it. “It’s endless rounds of entertaining, stimulating, and exercising their little bodies,” she says, describing a pace that leaves little room to pause.

Sleep, she has learned, is the first myth to fall apart. “Those naps are your only window to wash bottles, clean the house, or finally eat a proper meal,” she says. The advice to rest when the baby sleeps does not hold up in practice. There is always something that needs doing.

The shift begins almost immediately. She remembers catching her reflection in the hospital mirror hours after giving birth. “I felt like a superhuman,” she says. The physical change is stark, yet it brings a new sense of confidence. Her body feels less like something to fix and more like something to recognise for what it has done.

Routine disappears just as quickly. “There’s no such thing anymore,” she says. Each day with a newborn unfolds on its own terms. The lack of structure demands patience and resilience. It also brings a deeper understanding of care. “I suddenly understand every sacrifice my own mum made,” she says.

Her relationship with her husband has adjusted in step. “We made clear communication our number one rule.” Needs are stated plainly. There is no energy for guessing.

The wins are quaint and gratifying. A smile after a long day. A quiet moment after a bath when the baby settles and the house finally slows. “That’s when we sit down and talk about the day,” she says. Messages exchanged with other mothers offer another layer of reassurance. They remind her she is not alone in this.

What has been harder is rarely discussed in detail. Breastfeeding, she says, comes with its own challenges. “It’s not always the magical love story we see in the movies,” she says, choosing to approach it one day at a time. “Fed is best,” she says, not measuring her experience against anyone else’s.

Finding the balance: Leen Saleh and Tarek Mortada

Leen Saleh measures time differently now. Her son Aram is five months old, and her days no longer run on deadlines or meetings alone. They move around feeds, naps and small, fleeting moments that carry more weight than anything she planned for.

Working in PR and communications, she expected the pressure to intensify after the baby arrived. “My first worry was whether I’d be able to balance everything,” she says, admitting she even considered stepping away from her job for a year. The reality settled differently. “I realised the baby would establish a routine, and it’s all manageable with support,” she says, crediting family and outside help for making that balance possible.

Her assumptions about life narrowing also shifted. “I thought I’d stay at home and cancel most of my plans,” she says. Instead, she found herself stepping out with Aram. “Even when they are newborns, they enjoy going out,” she says, describing a change in mindset that replaced hesitation with ease.

Motherhood has brought a sharper sense of responsibility. “I feel less adventurous now,” she says, pointing to small changes in behaviour that reflect a larger shift. Driving, for instance, carries a different awareness.

Her relationship with her husband Tarek has been tested in familiar ways. Sleep is the first strain. “The hardest part has been dealing with the lack of sleep,” she says, especially in the early months. Yet the day finds its own rhythm. When Aram settles for the night, they sit together, talk and unwind. “We watch his videos and photos, and it makes us laugh instantly,” she says. Even during the day, sharing pictures keeps them connected. “It lifts our spirits,” she says. In moments of concern, like when the baby falls ill, communication does not need words. “We exchanged a look,” she says, describing a shared understanding shaped by care.

The wins come in small, quiet bursts. A moment in the morning when Aram lies in his bed, playing with his toys. “When he sees me or his daddy, he smiles and moves his hands like he’s flying,” she says. That moment, she adds, “melts my heart every single day.”

What remains difficult is the constant demand on time. “My time is very limited,” she says, describing how even short naps are used to catch up on tasks. She has started carving out space deliberately. “I go for a 45-minute walk alone,” she says, often late in the day. It helps her reset. Her husband encourages it, just as she does for him.

Two at once: Manar Ali and Islam Mohamed

With twins, the margin for error disappears early. Manar Ali is five months in with Ghalia and Laila, and the days rarely follow a predictable line. What she expected to manage with structure has turned into something far more fluid, where calm and chaos can sit side by side within the same hour.

“I thought I’d figure it out quickly,” she says, recalling her expectations before the babies arrived. What she meets instead is a constant shift in pace. “Some days feel like pure survival mode,” she says, describing a rhythm that moves between control and a feeling of being overwhelmed.

The change has touched every part of her life. Routine is no longer hers to shape. It revolves entirely around two infants. “That shift was harder than I expected,” she says. Physically, she is still adjusting. “My body went through so much,” she says, describing the ongoing process of reconnecting with it. There is a conscious effort now to approach that process with patience.

Identity has shifted as well, with work and independence giving way to motherhood being central. “I’m trying not to lose the other parts of myself,” she says. Holding on to both has become a daily balancing act.

Her relationship with her husband Islam Mohamed has been tested in ways that feel immediate. Exhaustion is the constant factor. “When you’re both tired, everything can feel more intense,” she says. However, shared responsibility has reshaped how they function as a couple. “We’ve had to become a real team,” she says, describing a quieter form of connection built on stepping in for each other without hesitation.

The wins are small and specific. A feeding that passes without tears. Both babies sleeping at the same time. A shared smile between them. “These little moments carry so much weight,” she says.

What sits beneath all of it is the mental load that does not switch off. “You’re always thinking,” she says, running through feeding, sleep and development in her mind. There is also the constant need to respond. “The feeling of being needed all the time can be overwhelming,” she says.

Right now it's about taking each day as it comes. Accept that not everything will go to plan. Ask for help when it is needed. “I’ve had to learn to be okay with that,” she says.

Holding it together: Ge Ann Terana and Zouhair Zayyoun

For Ge Ann Terana and husband Zouhair Zayyoun, the first year with their 4-month-old son Hilal Malik does not arrive in isolation. It unfolds alongside a toddler, a full-time job, and the quiet pressure of building a life far from home. The shift is not just about adding another child. It is about learning how to hold everything together without losing sight of what matters.

Ge Ann expected it to be difficult. “I already have a two-year-old Mecca Zuan,” she says, admitting she had no clear plan for managing both children while working. What she did not anticipate was the emotional weight of her toddler’s response. “Handling my toddler’s jealousy toward the new baby was the hardest,” she says, describing the effort it took to reassure her daughter that nothing had changed in how she was loved.

That phase settled over time. The adjustment brought its own clarity. “Now it all makes sense why having a bigger family can bring so much happiness,” she says.

Motherhood has reshaped her sense of self in ways that extend beyond routine. Her days now follow her children’s needs. The shift has sharpened her patience and forced a level of presence she did not practice before. It has also changed how she views her body. “Motherhood made me appreciate my body more for what it can do,” she says, reflecting on the process of carrying, giving birth and continuing to show up each day.

Her identity has expanded rather than replaced what came before. “I am still myself — a professional, a wife, and an individual,” she says. The difference is in how those roles now sit together. Success feels broader. It includes the care and values she brings to her family.

Her relationship with her husband has evolved under the same pressure. Sleep is limited. Time is tight. “There are days when we are simply trying to get through the basics,” she says. The shared responsibility has strengthened their connection, though.

Advice arrives constantly. She filters it through observation and discussion. “We don’t follow everything blindly,” she says. The wins are quiet. “Waking up and seeing my family healthy already feels like a win,” she says. Stability, even in small moments, carries weight.

Raising children while managing residency, finances and life as an overseas worker adds another level of responsibility. “It means handling everything while making sure we can legally stay here,” she says.

A gentler shift: Priyanka Khare and Abhishek Sharan

Priyanka Khare expected the first year to hit hard. She braced for sleepless nights, feeding struggles and the slow erosion of routine. Eight months in, the reality has unfolded differently. Her 9-month-old son, Suyansh Sharan, has settled into a rhythm that feels calmer than anything she had prepared for, reshaping not just her days but how she sees herself within them.

“I had mentally prepared myself for a storm,” she says. Instead, she found steadiness. “He fed well, slept peacefully, and was incredibly cooperative,” she says, describing a baby who eased her into motherhood rather than overwhelming her. The adjustment still required change, but it came with a sense of manageability she did not expect.

Her routine has shifted in clear ways. Life once centred on personal time, work and spontaneous plans. Now it moves around her son. “It’s all about ‘us’,” she says. The day fills with play, meals and an earlier end to the night. The changes are visible, including weight gain, yet her sense of self feels intact. “I don’t feel like I’ve lost my identity,” she says. “If anything, I’ve expanded it.”

That sense of expansion is tied to support. At home and at work, she feels anchored. “I’m reminded every day that I’m more than ‘just a mom’,” she says, pointing to a structure that allows her to hold on to different parts of her life.

Her relationship with her husband Abhishek Sharan has shifted in quieter ways. The long conversations that once filled their evenings have taken a step back. Sleep patterns have changed. In their place, a more practical partnership has formed. “This phase has strengthened our bond as a team,” she says.

Advice has been a constant presence. “Sometimes it makes me question if I’m doing enough,” she says, referring to the steady stream of online opinions. When that noise builds, she returns to a smaller circle. “I turn to my mom and our paediatrician,” says Priyanka, who also has a daughter Vedika, 5.

The wins look different now. They are not milestones in the usual sense. “Reaching the office on time, enjoying a long shower, even brushing my hair,” she says, listing moments that carry unexpected weight. These are the markers of a day that has gone well.

Letting go of control: Raj Dhakan and Nida Ansari

Raj Dhakan and Nida Ansari thought they understood what the first year would demand. Their daughter Dua is now close to 11 months old, and the reality has moved far beyond the structured version they had imagined. What they expected to manage with routines has turned into something more fluid, where certainty rarely lasts long.

“We thought we’d still have a fair amount of control over our time,” they say, recalling how they pictured feeds, naps and daily rhythms settling into place. That idea did not hold. “No two days feel the same,” they say, describing a constant shift that keeps resetting whatever they think they have figured out.

Alongside that unpredictability sits something harder to explain. “We didn’t expect the intensity of love,” they say, pointing to the way their priorities changed almost overnight. It is not gradual. It is immediate and complete.

Their routine now moves entirely around Dua. Even stepping out requires planning. The adjustment has been both practical and internal. “There’s definitely been a shift in identity,” they say, describing the effort to hold on to themselves as individuals while learning to be parents first.

Their relationship has absorbed the strain in familiar ways. Sleep deprivation amplifies small issues. “Small things can feel bigger when you’re tired,” they say. The demands of caring for a baby leave little space for anything else. Yet within that pressure, something steadier has taken shape. “There’s a quiet understanding and teamwork that’s grown between us,” they say.

Advice remains a constant presence. It comes from doctors, family and an endless stream online. “It can feel overwhelming,” they say. Over time, they have learned to filter it. Medical guidance comes first. Everything else is weighed and often set aside. “We trust our instincts,” they say.

The wins are small, though they carry weight. A good meal. A longer stretch of sleep. A moment of laughter. “Those little pockets of calm and joy carry us through the harder days,” they say. What’s been harder to adjust to is the loss of predictability. “Before, we could plan our day, our time, even our thoughts,” they say. That sense of control has slipped. Some days feel manageable. Others do not.

The difference now is in how they approach it. The first year, they are finding out is less about holding on and more about learning to let go.