This is Where I Found Myself

 Motherhood, I have realized, is a lifelong game of losing and finding.

You lose sleep… and find strength.
You lose control… and find surrender.
You lose the woman you once were… and somewhere between spilled milk and tiny fingerprints on the clean walls, you find a newer version of yourself waiting quietly.

I learned this most painfully and most beautifully on an ordinary afternoon with my twins - Saket and Smriti.

They were around one-and-a-half years old then with unstable feet, endless curiosity and a suspicious talent for making household objects disappear.

Honestly, I don’t know why I spent money on toys.

Because nothing fascinated them more than my kitchen vessels.

Steel tumblers were drums.

Lids were frisbees.

And my chapati rolling pin? Apparently a national treasure that needed to be hidden daily.

That afternoon, my neighbour rang the bell asking if she could borrow the rolling pin. I walked confidently into the kitchen pretending I was a woman who definitely knew where her own things were.

After searching drawers, shelves and my balcony, I finally found it under my cot. Because clearly my toddlers believed household items deserved secret second homes.

My neighbour lived right next door, so I stepped out for less than a minute, leaving the main door open. I handed it to her, exchanged a quick smile, walked back in and casually called out…

“Saket?”

“Smriti?”

Silence.

At first, I smiled.

They were probably hiding.

Then I checked the bedroom.

Kitchen……Bathroom.

Balcony……….Under the cot.

Inside the blanket pile they had converted into what looked like a small refugee camp for stuffed toys.

Nothing.

No sound.
No movement.
No giggles.

Just silence.

And there is something terrifying about silence in a house with toddlers. Chaos is their default setting. So when absolute silence arrives, my heart immediately begins preparing for disaster.

I searched again.

Faster this time.

Calling louder.

My voice trembling now.

I rushed outside. My neighbour joined me immediately while the apartment caretaker started checking every floor. I climbed stairs breathlessly, looking into corridors, corners, staircases , anywhere two tiny children could have wandered.

They had barely started walking properly.

Where could they possibly have gone?

Panic does strange things to a mother.

In minutes, my mind had already punished me a hundred times over.

What kind of mother loses her children in her own house?
Why did I step outside?
Why didn’t I carry them with me?

Guilt sat heavily on my chest.

I remember collapsing in the middle of my living room, crying uncontrollably. Toys were scattered everywhere around me, evidence that my children existed in this space.

Yet I couldn’t find them.

I felt breathless.

Broken.

I stood up suddenly and walked toward the window to ask the caretaker downstairs if he had seen anything outside the building.

The curtains on my windows were lengthy ones, long enough to touch the floor. Behind them, tucked into the corner, was a small chair pushed against the wall, almost invisible from the room.

As I pulled the curtains open……I heard it.

A tiny muffled giggle.

Then another.

Soft. Suppressed. Mischievous.

For a second, I froze.

And there they were.

Both of them standing together on that tiny chair behind the curtain, squeezed into their secret hiding place like two miniature masterminds who genuinely believed they had become invisible.

Saket was hugging Smriti tightly for balance. Smriti had both hands clutching the curtain fabric. Their eyes sparkled with excitement. Their cheeks were puffed from trying unsuccessfully to control their laughter.

The moment they saw my face, both burst into uncontrollable giggles.

To them, this was the greatest game ever invented.

They thought Amma had finally found them in Peek-A-Boo.

And there I was….. emotionally collapsing….

I cried and laughed at the same time.

The kind of crying that leaves your whole body weak with relief.

I pulled them into my arms so tightly that they squealed between giggles. I kissed their cheeks, their hair, their tiny fingers …. probably terrifying them with the intensity of my emotions while they wondered why their harmless hiding game had turned Amma into a dramatic Tamil movie climax.

But motherhood has always been exactly this for me.

Losing and finding.

I lost pieces of myself while raising them.

My old routines.
My freedom.
My uninterrupted sleep.
My ability to drink hot coffee peacefully.

But somewhere in all this chaos, they quietly gave me something back too.

Purpose……Perspective…..Patience

And most of all “Strength” I did not know I carried.

Every exhausting phase redirected me back toward myself.

When I thought life had paused for me as a stay-at-home mother, it was actually rebuilding me quietly from within.

And today, years later, as I slowly move closer to my professional dreams, I realize something beautiful…..

My children were never the reason I “lost” my life. They were the reason I found it differently…..More meaningfully.

They now stand beside me as my loudest cheerleaders…

Of course, they still hide my belongings unfortunately.

Only now, they have upgraded from kitchen vessels to expensive things….

My ear pods, make up, social media accounts, mobile phone passwords and most of all……

“Emotional secrets” followed by “Nothing Amma…” with suspicious eye contact.

But here they are walking taller, laughing louder and speaking endlessly…

And that is still the greatest answered prayer of my life.