15 Years of Growth: A Love Story

Last week marked 15 years since Nitin and I had our first date, and it got me thinking about everything we’ve been through together—the highs, the struggles, and the moments that have shaped us.

To be honest, it doesn’t feel like 15 years. It feels more like five or six.

I think the reason for that is because, in many ways, we’ve only truly been living our lives on our own terms for the last seven years, ever since we moved to the Midlands. Before that, life felt like it revolved around the legal case, constant fear, and the weight of depression. I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t feel happy, and looking back, I don’t think I even fully experienced motherhood the first time around.

The Early Years: Building a Life Together

When I think back to the early years of my relationship with Nitin, I do remember moments—some clearer than others. One of our favorite things to do was go to the movies, especially Indian films. Our nearest Indian cinema was a 35-minute bus ride away, but that didn’t stop us. It became our little tradition—every weekend, or at least once every two weeks, we’d go.

This was around the time when Nitin and I had moved out of the house I owned with my parents. We were on our own for the first time, living in a small one-room flat in Leytonstone, trying to figure out life as a couple. There was something exciting about that time—being young, being in love, and just enjoying each other’s company. But at the same time, we were also carrying so much emotional weight.

Looking back, I realize that even though we had great moments, we weren’t fully present in them. Life was stressful, and without realizing it, we were just trying to survive.

Motherhood and the Struggle to Connect

My relationship with Maanvi was always off to a rough start. I suffered from postnatal depression for over six months, and during that time, I felt so disconnected from everything—including my baby.

I was lucky to have support from the Parent-Infant Psychology (PIP) team, who worked hard with me to help me build a connection with Maanvi. I had weekly therapy sessions at home because I couldn’t even leave the house to go to their office. The weight of depression was too heavy, and it made everyday tasks feel impossible.

Because of this, I don’t have strong emotional memories of Maanvi’s early years. I know I was there. I know I held her, fed her, played with her, and loved her. The photos prove it. But unlike with Jiya, I don’t feel those moments when I look back. It’s as if they belong to another version of me—one I’ve worked hard to move on from.

The Turning Point: Moving to the Midlands

Moving to the Midlands was a turning point in our lives. It gave me a fresh start, away from all the toxic people I had ever known. That alone brought a sense of freedom that I had never felt before.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could create the life I wanted—a life that wasn’t defined by fear, sadness, or the past.

This move wasn’t just about geography. It was about breaking free from everything that had weighed me down—the negativity, the bad memories, the feeling of being stuck. I finally had space to breathe.

Rediscovering Love and Family Life

Over the last six years, Nitin and I have truly been a couple. We’ve lived our lives the way we wanted, without the burden of the past.

We finally got to experience normal family moments—taking the kids to the zoo, to the park, enjoying simple weekend outings. For the first time, we weren’t just going through the motions. We were actually living those moments.

As a couple, we also started setting goals and achieving them together. One of our biggest dreams was to own our first home, and last summer, we made that dream a reality. Buying our own home felt like the ultimate symbol of how far we had come—not just financially, but emotionally.

The Lost Memories of Love

While I have clear memories of these recent years, I still struggle to remember the early days of our relationship.

I vaguely recall our late-night texts when we first started dating, the excitement of seeing his name pop up on my phone. But when I try to truly connect to those emotions, it feels like they belong to someone else’s life.

When Nitin brings up stories from our time in London, like the time he broke the base of our Christmas tree while I was pregnant with Maanvi, I smile and nod. I remember the story because he tells it every year. But if I’m honest, I don’t remember how I felt in that moment. It’s a memory without an emotional imprint.

On the other hand, I clearly remember Jiya’s first Christmas. By then, we had moved to the Midlands. I remember holding the tiny premature baby clothes I had ordered, feeling both joy and shock at how small they were. I remember dressing her in her little reindeer outfit and feeling overwhelming love. I remember her sleeping through the New Year’s fireworks as Nitin and I watched at midnight.

I remember those moments because I was truly present in them.

Healing, Growth, and Looking Forward

Looking back, I don’t think we truly enjoyed being together as a couple for the first 9–10 years. Even though I know we had some incredible moments, the emotional detachment makes it feel like they happened to someone else.

But here’s the thing: healing takes time.

It’s easy to grieve the lost years, but I also recognize how much we’ve grown. The last six years have been ours—free from past burdens, full of love, laughter, and the ability to truly experience the present.

If I could go back in time and give advice to my younger self, I’d say:

“You will find joy again. You will feel love again. You will have the life you’ve always wanted—just hold on.”

And maybe that’s the lesson in all of this. Time moves forward, whether we’re ready or not. The past may be blurry, but the present is crystal clear. And that’s what truly matters.