Relationships & Expectations

This one is just me, and I’m going to be honest, my brain is still catching up with my body. I’m just back from a trip to Karachi with my six-month-old, and I’m a little sleep-deprived. Usually I plan out these solo episodes, but today I’m winging it, talking about a DM I got asking what it was like for my husband, Muzamil, in the labor room. That question opened up so much, so let’s chat about partnerships, first flights with a baby, and the never-ending roles we juggle as women.

The moment that changed everything for him

The hospital allowed husbands in the labor room, and honestly, I wanted him there. I wanted him to see what it takes to bring our son into the world. The staff told me husbands tend to be more supportive than mothers or mothers-in-law because they don’t panic as much, but for me, it was about sharing that load with my partner. When I look back, I’m so glad he was by my side.

When the final moment came and I heard the baby cry, the first thing I did was turn to Muzamil. He was on my right. “He was just white. His face was pale, both his hands covering his mouth. He was staring, not moving. He was numb,” I remember. I had never seen him like that. He even stepped back, like he’d witnessed something unreal. I looked at him, still catching my own breath, and said, “Listen, are you okay?” He wasn’t. There were tears sitting in his eyes, and when I shook him out of it, they fell. It was like he started breathing again.

Later, he told me it was the most magical, unreal thing he’d ever felt. “It added a lot of perspective and it really changes the way he sees himself as a father, his relationship with his son, and obviously his relationship with me.” That moment flipped something for him. The appreciation is different when you’ve seen your partner do that. And for me, having him there made me feel stronger, while seeing my mom would have made me more emotional because I’d be worrying about her. If your hospital lets your husband in, and he’s up for it, I say let him. It shifts the ownership he feels from day one.

First flight with a tiny human

Right after that reflection, I jumped into trip mode: our first time traveling with our son, Rafael. A family engagement in Karachi meant a packed schedule, and Muzamil was upfront with me. He said, “I know you’ll have expectations for me to help with the baby, but I have to manage the event. So if you don’t want to go, it’s okay.” I appreciated that clarity. And you know what? The pressure of log kya kahenge, what people will say, didn’t apply here. I genuinely wanted to be there. I wanted to witness my sister-in-law’s big day and be present for family.

We went. The flight was a mess. Rafael was teething, the airport was hot, and kabhi kabhi, sometimes, he cried like he’d never cried before. I looked at Muzamil and thought, we are those parents with the annoying baby. Nothing worked until I found a spot under the direct AC vent, and then he finally settled, slept on me, and made it through the flight. The trip itself? Surprisingly, it was the break I needed. We met people, shared meals, and I managed him while also being there for family. It was hectic but full, and I came back feeling like I’d had a little holiday.

The invisible load of many roles

But all that switching got me thinking. In one day, I’m a mom, a daughter-in-law, a sister-in-law, a daughter, a mumani. “I feel like as women you have to be emotionally available for so many people… You’re constantly switching between roles and fulfilling expectations.” The expectations aren’t always outrageous, many are simple and normal, but they pile up and leave almost no time for you. As an individual, beyond the roles, who am I? That lack of space leads straight to burnout, even when you love the roles themselves.

I’ve learned that if I don’t carve out time just for me, something small every day, I stop enjoying the roles. So I’ve started consciously doing things as me, not as mom or wife or anything else. A little yoga, a quiet minute, whatever. It’s not easy, but when I prioritize it, I show up more genuinely in those other roles. And that genuine presence matters more than ticking every box.

Heartbeat over checklist

I’ve always had this rule: I don’t force relationships. I don’t make phone calls just so I can say I called. “I never force relationships. I don’t make phone calls just for the sake of it. When I call, I really talk.” I’d rather call less but speak for 45 minutes with my whole heart than send a two-minute “check-in” every other day. That feels fake to me. I want all my actions to have real intention. Maybe some people disagree, but I’d rather be free to give from a place of genuineness than trapped in formalities.

If we, as women, started giving ourselves permission to do less but do it with our full hearts, we’d feel lighter. And ironically, when we’re not forced, we end up doing more because we actually want to. So if you’re feeling stretched thin, try this: say no to one thing that feels like a tick mark, and say yes to showing up wholeheartedly for what you choose. You’ll be a happier person, and that happiness spills into every role you fill.

I hope this messy, rambling episode gave you a little something to sit with. Share your thoughts in the comments, I’d love to know what resonated. Until next time.