Becoming a mother after 16 years of marriage has transformed my life, but it has also sharpened my understanding of a persistent social problem: our tendency to judge people by the milestones they achieve, the choices they make and the timelines they follow.

I write not merely as an observer, but as someone who has experienced these expectations firsthand. I know what it means to marry later than expected, to wait years for motherhood, to undergo assisted reproductive technologies (ART), and to endure repeated IVF cycles without the hoped-for positive result. I also know the pain of being perceived as an unhappy couple simply because we did not have a child. The unsolicited expressions of concern, often from elders whom we felt unable to question, sometimes weighed so heavily that we found ourselves questioning our own happiness. We endured much of this in silence, trying to preserve our dignity while navigating deeply personal struggles.

These experiences have taught me that we rarely know the full story behind another person’s circumstances. Yet we routinely ask questions that can reopen wounds, reinforce insecurities and make people feel that their lives are somehow incomplete.

Marriage, parenthood, professional success and financial stability are often treated as essential markers of a life well lived. Those who achieve them at the socially expected age are congratulated; those whose lives unfold differently are questioned. If someone does not wish to marry, why ask when they will? If a couple has no children, why ask when they will share the “good news”? What sounds like harmless curiosity may conceal years of medical challenges, personal grief, financial uncertainty or a conscious decision to remain child-free.

It is perhaps telling that I am voicing these concerns only after becoming a mother. Had I spoken earlier, I might have been dismissed with the familiar retort: “You are not a parent, so stop offering philosophical insights.” This, too, is a social construct: the assumption that one must attain a particular milestone before being entitled to question its importance. Must a person experience parenthood to understand compassion, or endure discrimination to recognise injustice?

My journey into motherhood has brought me profound happiness, but it has not made me believe that everyone must follow the same path. Marriage does not complete a person, and parenthood does not validate a marriage. People who choose not to marry are not necessarily lonely; couples without children are not necessarily unhappy. A fulfilling life can take many forms, and no single-family structure has a monopoly on happiness.

The scrutiny surrounding parenthood often extends to the gender of the child. When a family welcomes a daughter, relatives may immediately begin hoping for a son to carry forward the family name. Two daughters may be regarded as an incomplete family, while a son and a daughter are celebrated as the ideal combination. In this imaginary scoring system, a son appears to earn more points than a daughter.

Who created these rules, and who gave us the authority to measure a child’s worth by gender?

A daughter is not a lesser blessing, nor is a son a greater one. Two daughters, two sons or a single child can constitute a complete family. Equally, couples who choose not to have children deserve the same respect as those who embrace parenthood. Children should be welcomed as individuals, not treated as achievements or entrusted with the burden of continuing a family name. No child should have to earn acceptance by fulfilling society’s expectations.

These judgments extend well beyond marriage and family life. We are measured by our qualifications, professional designations, salaries, possessions and personal circumstances. We are expected to marry at the right age, earn enough, have children at the appropriate time and build what others consider the “right” kind of family. In this relentless pursuit of social approval, we risk forgetting to ask a more important question: are we allowing people the freedom to live lives that are meaningful to them?

Human dignity cannot depend on marital status, reproductive choices, income, professional rank or conformity to social norms. Nor should a person’s sexual orientation diminish the respect they receive. We are human beings before we are spouses, parents, professionals, sons or daughters. Our worth does not begin when we fulfil society’s expectations, and it does not diminish when we choose a different path.

As a mother, I feel a responsibility to raise my child in a world that understands this distinction. I want him to grow up recognising that women are not defined solely by their roles as wives or mothers, that men need not prove their worth by carrying forward a family name, and that no individual deserves less respect because their life differs from the majority.

Such change begins with ordinary conversations. Before asking someone about marriage, children or family planning, we can pause and consider whether the question is necessary. Before expressing disappointment at the birth of a child of a particular gender, we can question the prejudice behind that reaction. Sometimes, compassion lies not in finding the right words but in recognising when we have no right to ask.

I celebrate motherhood because it has become a deeply meaningful part of my life. But my happiness does not make my experience a prescription for others. We should be able to celebrate our own journeys without turning them into standards against which everyone else is judged.

Life is not an examination in which marriage, children, professional success and social approval are compulsory subjects. There is no universal answer sheet, no fixed marking scheme and no extra credit for living according to someone else’s expectations.

Becoming a mother after 16 years of marriage has enriched my life in ways I will always cherish. It has also reinforced my belief that every individual deserves the freedom to find meaning, peace and happiness without having to justify their circumstances to the world.

Let us celebrate people, not milestones; respect choices, not impose expectations. A compassionate society is not one in which everyone lives alike, but one in which people are free to live differently without being made to feel that something is missing.

Every life has value, long before society decides to give it a star.

(Dr. Soumita Sarkar is a PhD in ELT, educator, researcher, reviewer, and international editorial board member engaged in interdisciplinary scholarship spanning language education, communication, and artificial intelligence.)