More Than a Babysitter — The Grandmothers Who Raise Us

Raahima, at just 15 months, relies on her grandmother Dadi for consistent care, showcasing the vital role of extended family in child-rearing. This caregiving shapes emotional security and development, highlighting the importance of recognizing grandmothers as primary caregivers and educators.

Raahima is just 15 months old.
She does not understand the word “caregiver.” But she understands presence, especially the presence of grandmothers who raise children.

When she is hungry, she calls for Dadi.
When she is sleepy, she looks for the same arms that have held her since the first day.

This is not preference. It is imprint.


Grandmothers Who Raise Children Are Not Backup

In many South Asian homes, grandmothers who raise children are not a support system. They are the system.

Raahima’s mother was recovering from surgery after birth. That early window, the one experts call critical, did not disappear. It shifted.

To Dadi.

Research in early childhood development shows that consistent caregiving in the first 12–24 months builds emotional security and brain development. According to Harvard’s Center on the Developing Child, stable and responsive relationships shape neural connections that last for life.

Raahima may not remember these days.
Her brain will.


The Hidden Architecture of Family Life

Here’s what I noticed. We talk about parenting as if it belongs only to parents.

But in homes like ours, parenting is layered.

Dadi feeds her mashed banana in the morning.
Dadi wipes her hands when she throws it on the floor.
Dadi knows which cry means hunger and which one means “just hold me.”

That repetition. Day after day. That is not helping. That is raising.

Globally, this is not a small phenomenon. According to UNICEF estimates, millions of children are regularly cared for by extended family members, especially in Asia and Africa where multi-generational living is common.

Yet policy frameworks rarely count them.


We Call It Love. But It Is Also Labour

A strange thing happens in families.

The more natural something looks, the less we value it.

Dadi wakes up early. Sleeps late. Adjusts her own life around a child who is not “hers” in the formal sense. No salary. No leave. No recognition.

Still, Raahima reaches for her dupatta like it is safety itself.

And maybe that is the point we miss.

This is not just emotional bonding.
This is invisible labour shaping a human being.


What Happens If We Finally See Them?

What if we started calling grandmothers who raise children what they are?

Primary caregivers.
Early educators.
Emotional anchors.

Some countries have begun small shifts. In parts of Europe, family policies now recognize extended caregiving roles in social support structures. It is still limited. But the conversation has started.

In most of our societies, it hasn’t.


Conclusion: The Memory the Body Keeps

Raahima will grow. She will speak in full sentences. She will run, fall, and forget many things.

But her body will remember this.

The rhythm of Dadi’s breathing.
The warmth of her lap.
The quiet certainty that someone was always there.

And maybe that is how generations are built. Not through plans or systems, but through hands that keep showing up.

Still, we don’t write about them enough.

Maybe that’s the problem.

More Than a Babysitter: The Grandmothers Who Raise Us

More Than a Babysitter: The Grandmothers Who Raise Us
Some women don’t just help—they hold the whole beginning.

Raahima is only 15 months old.
She doesn’t know many words. But she knows who to call when she’s hungry.
When she’s sleepy.
When her little world feels too loud or too bright.

She calls for Dadi.

Not because someone told her to.
Because since the day she was born, Dadi has been her everything.

The First Arms That Held Her

Raahima’s mother was recovering from a tough surgery when she arrived.
There was no skin-to-skin contact. No soft mother-baby hour.
But Dadi was there.

She was the one who cradled Raahima’s fragile body,
fed her,
rocked her,
bathed her,
whispered blessings into her soft, folding ears.

Not once. Not just for a week.

Every single day, since birth.

She’s the one who knows Raahima’s different cries—
the hungry one, the bored one, the tired one masked as a tantrum.
She’s the one who sits cross-legged on the floor, patiently feeding her mashed bananas while humming a tune from her own childhood.

We Call It “Helping” but It’s Really Holding

In many South Asian homes, grandmothers are called “helpers” in the family story.

But that’s a small word for such a vast role.

Dadi doesn’t “assist.” She leads.

She is the default.
The fallback.
The routine.
The rhythm of the day.

She knows which tiny sock belongs to which tiny foot.
She knows how to warm milk to just the right temperature.
She knows how to coax a baby into sleep without fuss, just by placing her palm on her chest.

And Raahima?
She doesn’t yet know the word “grateful.”
But she reaches for Dadi’s dupatta like it’s a lifeline.

Because for her, it is.

The Woman Behind the Baby’s Calm

This isn’t a temporary setup.
It’s the architecture of a babyhood held together by a grandmother’s hands.

When people compliment Raahima’s calm nature, her cheerful giggles, her early understanding of comfort—they rarely think of the quiet woman behind the scenes.

But Dadi is the reason.

Her patience.
Her repetition.
Her unwavering, bone-deep love.

No salary. No leave. No applause.

Just devotion.

Maybe We Should Rewrite the Story

Maybe we need to stop calling grandmothers like Dadi “secondary caregivers.”

They’re not backup. They’re primary.
They’re not optional. They’re essential.

And maybe, when Raahima is older—
when she learns to say full sentences, when she runs instead of waddles,
when she forgets how often Dadi rocked her through a fever or chased her through the house with a bowl of kichdi—
she’ll still remember the feeling of being safe.

Not because anyone told her.

But because Dadi gave her that memory in her body.

Some grandmothers raise mothers.
Some grandmothers raise children.
And some, like Dadi—
raise the whole world around them.