My Daughter’s Mother – A Letter to My Sister

That morning is fresh in my mind, as if it happened just yesterday. I had just found out I was expecting my first child. I shared the news with my husband, and our joy knew no bounds. Now came the time to consult a doctor and share the news with our families.

We visited the doctor in the evening, filled with anticipation. After the check-up, she confirmed the pregnancy. I was overwhelmed. And the first person I wanted to share this with; after my husband, was my baby’s would-be maasi, my younger sister.

The moment I told her, she was over the moon—perhaps even happier than I was. While my baby was growing inside my womb, she was also growing in her maasi’s heart. Though we lived in different cities, we stayed closely connected. Every little development, every doctor visit, every emotion I shared it all with her over the phone.

Finally, the date of delivery was decided. My sister planned her leave and flew in a day before. My mom and mom-in-law had already arrived. The house was full of excitement, and my sister was just as eager as I was to hold our baby.

After a 7-hour ordeal, the doctor announced that I had delivered a beautiful, healthy baby girl. My sister, who had always wanted a niece, was the first to hear the news, before even my husband, who was stuck going up and down in the elevator trying to reach me. She was the one who broke the news to him, and their joy knew no bounds.

Few hours later, we were finally handed our baby. I was still drowsy from the medication, but I remember my sister’s expression vividly, tears in her eyes and a wide smile on her face as she stared at the tiny little girl in awe. She kept whispering how cute her princess was, again and again.

Since that day, she has never asked me, “How’s your baby?” She always asks, “How’s my baby?” She claims that our daughter is more like her than like me. Whether it’s her beautiful curly hair, or her adorable (and slightly annoying) habit of sucking her thumb with a finger on her nose. It’s all attributed to her maasi. Her dancing, her dramatics, her chocolate obsession. It’s all apparently inherited from her maasi. And honestly, I don’t argue. I’m proud that my daughter has her father’s looks and her maasi’s spunk.

My sister has been crazy in love with our baby since the very first day. She showers her with gifts, frocks, toys, baby mats , anything that catches her eye. But more than the gifts, it’s the motherly love that moves me. She’s a pro at changing diapers, giving baths, cleaning up poop, all without hesitation. And though she’s a total chocolate addict, she never hesitates to share her stash with her little partner-in-crime.

It was her maasi who helped her take her first steps. Her first nursery rhyme was taught by her maasi. She’s not just her aunt—she’s her first friend, her first teacher, her first playmate. They even have tea parties together. Yes, my 3-year-old already loves tea, thanks to her maasi!

Today, my daughter mirrors her maasi in more ways than one. She talks to her cousin, the daughter my sister now has the same way her maasi talks to her. She even improvises the silly songs once made just for her, now inserting her cousin’s name. It’s adorable beyond words.

Honestly, if given a choice, I’m pretty sure my daughter would choose her maasi over me. Because to her, maasi is the best teacher, the best storyteller, the best playmate, and above all, her best friend forever.

Thank you, my little sister, for being everything you are , for being a second mother to my daughter, for loving her like your own. You are her Maushi, and she is truly blessed to have you.

We love you dearly.