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After detesting her mother’s parenting methods for much of her growing-up years, Jess (31) had pretty much accepted that she’d never experience a mother-daughter relationship with her mum. But that’s changed since she had her own child.
I spent the better part of my childhood and teenage years detesting my mother.
I’m an only child, and growing up, whenever I told someone I didn’t have siblings, they assumed that meant I was being spoiled silly at home. But that was far from my reality. My mum was a perfectionist. There was no room for “spoiling” in her house.
There was hardly anything anyone could do to please my mum. She had a particular way of doing things, and I got a scolding if I didn’t sweep under the chairs or forgot to arrange the plates according to size.
One time, when I was 8 years old, I took a drink from the fridge at night and forgot to close the fridge all the way, so everything inside got warm by morning. A bowl of soup went bad, too. My mum beat me so much that my dad had to intervene.
My dad was the complete opposite of my mum. He tried his best to spoil me silly, but my mum never stood for it. He once bought me a bicycle in JSS 1 because I was upset about not getting picked to be the class captain. You know what my mum did? She waited for me to go to school, then she picked up the bicycle and donated it to an orphanage home. When I got home and began looking for it, she announced that she’d given it to children with real problems. I was so angry.
My mum also never let me leave her sight. I soon learned there was no need to ask her if I could stay over at my friends’ houses during the holidays or visit them to play on the weekends. Her answer was always no. If my friends didn’t come to my house, I might as well forget about seeing them till school resumed.
Everyone I knew could play outside in the field close to our estate after school, but I was always stuck at home. I still don’t know how my mum caught me the one time I snuck out of the house to play. She came home from work that day and said, “Who gave you permission to go outside?” After that incident, she got us a live-in maid who ensured I never set foot outside unless I was out on an errand.
We had a maid, but I still did most of the house chores. The only thing our maid did was cook and watch my every move. By 12 years old, I’d started washing my parents’ clothes and mine. The maid left when I turned 14, and I took over the kitchen too. Some days, I wondered if I was actually my mother’s child. Maybe she adopted me because she just wanted a child to punish or something.
In SS 2, my mum found my diary where I wrote about my crush on the head boy of my secondary school. Strangely, she tried to talk to me about it instead of her usual beatings. It was the most awkward conversation ever. For almost two hours, she gave me story after story of young girls who got pregnant by kissing boys and either died after seeking abortions or giving birth to the children and becoming destined to lives of struggle.
In the end, she burned my diary and made me swear not to crush on anybody again. The only thing I left that conversation with was an intense fear of kisses and the wisdom to never write my thoughts down where my mum could find them again.
When I entered the university, my mum developed a habit of coming to visit me unannounced. Probably in an attempt to catch me hiding one boy under my bed in the hostel I shared with two other female students.
Even at university, I wasn’t free from her scrutiny and scolding. She once called to scream at me because I posted a picture on Facebook where a male classmate was holding me by the waist.
In all this, my mum still expected me to confide in her. My dad constantly told me how my mum wasn’t happy that I only told him about things bothering me and never told her. She also didn’t like that my dad was the first person I called to give exciting news. I never understood it. Did she really think she offered a platform where I could come to her freely?
If anything, realising she wanted me to talk to her made our relationship even worse. I was so determined to push her to the back of my mind. How dare she traumatise me so much growing up and suddenly want us to be best friends? It didn’t make any sense.
As a result, I can almost count the number of times I visited or spoke to my mum after I left uni in 2015. She was the last person to meet my boyfriend (now husband), and I made sure to hire an events planner while preparing for my wedding in 2021 because I didn’t want to clash with her during the wedding prep or have to deal with her opinions on how she thought things should go.
I became a mother myself in 2023 after almost losing my life to childbirth complications, and let’s just say I’ve learned to be more forgiving of my mother’s antics. Actually, I’d say I now understand her.
My change of mind happened when she came to help me with my newborn and stayed for two months. I didn’t want her to come at first, but my mother-in-law fell ill, and I had no other option.
I thought my mum and I would spend the entire time arguing, but I saw a different side of her. Gone was the judgemental perfectionist. She took care of me and assured me even when I thought I was doing things wrong when I initially had problems with breastfeeding.
We also talked a lot during that period, and while she didn’t say it outrightly, I understood that she’d actually done most of what she did in my childhood out of fear. She’d only given birth to one child in a society like Nigeria’s that still considers people with only one child as almost childless.
She was under pressure to train her girl child to be socially acceptable and without reproach while navigating fear that she’d make a parenting mistake and her only child would turn wayward.
I can relate to that now, too. Half the time, I worry about whether I’m making the right decision for my child and if I should’ve done something better. Fortunately, my experience with my mum has taught me that it’s more important to work with your children and make sure they know why you make certain decisions rather than have them resent you for it.
I’m just glad I can finally have the mother-daughter relationship I didn’t have all those years ago. We started late, but it’ll help forge a better one with my own child. I’m grateful for that.
Nigerian mums will spill your secrets unprovoked during family gatherings, but they also know when to carry your secrets to the grave. When I was once diagnosed with an embarrassing medical condition five years ago, my late mum managed to keep it from the whole world.
To celebrate Mother’s Day 2024, I set out to find other people who’ve had their mums keep their wildest secrets for them.
Idris*, 25
My mum is an OG for real. The first time she caught me smoking, I thought I was done for. I was home alone and thought I had the house to myself. I lit a blunt in the bathroom, and she barged in wanting to use the toilet. There I was with weed in hand. I ran to my room as she entered. When she came out, she gave me a long and pitiful stare that told me how disappointed she was. “Let this be the first and last time. If not, you know your father and what he can do.” I thought she’d tell my dad or one of our relatives, but she never did. I still smoke, but that was the last time I lit a blunt at home.
Deji*, 31
I had an infection after NYSC camp. I went to pee and saw blood stained lumps in my urine. The sight freaked me out, and without thinking, I went to tell my mum. Next thing, she was like “Who did you have fun with in camp?” She was suggesting I had an STI. I was embarrassed AF. She immediately ordered me to go to the hospital. It turned out it was a regular urinary tract infection. The whole time I was under medication, my mum would randomly show up and say “Bawo de ni tibi” But my siblings were completely clueless. I’m glad she kept it between us.
Nosa*, 29
I failed my SS 2 promotional exams and had to repeat the class. My mum came to school the following week. I don’t know what she told the principal, but I was promoted on trial. Still, when I got home for the holidays, I walked on eggshells the entire time waiting for the day my dad would address the issue. He never did till I returned to school. That was how I knew my mum kept my secret.
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Bisi*, 40
About a month before my husband proposed, my mum came into my room one night and said we needed to talk. She asked me, “When last did you see your period? Are you pregnant?” because her motherly instincts told her I was. We went to the hospital the next day, and I was two weeks pregnant. She called my BF, told him what had happened and asked what his plans were. Few weeks later, he proposed. My wedding followed almost immediately because my mum wanted me out of the house before I started showing. The entire time, nobody knew why everything was rushed. I was grateful she kept the secret. My pastor dad would have caused a major scene if he ever knew I got pregnant out of wedlock.
Dunni*, 32
I got a two-week suspension for “bullying my juniors” when I was in SS 2. My mum got to school and was furious as hell. She actually instructed the teachers to discipline me before we left the school. On the drive home, she went on and on about how my dad would finish me. To my surprise, she took me to my grandparents to wait out my suspension and constantly visited to put me in check. The day we returned to school, she told me my dad wasn’t aware and I shouldn’t tell him. I don’t know if she kept the secret for my sake or hers, but I was glad nobody else knew.
Rahman*, 25
We travelled to my village for sallah some years back, and I was under so much pressure to come back with meat for my friends. My grandpa killed a separate cow for himself, and kept the fried meat in a big basin under his bed. The room was always locked, but he allowed me to enter because I was the youngest in the house. Anytime I entered, I would take two or three pieces of meat. This went on for a while until my grandpa noticed. He went haywire on my aunts and uncles for pilfering his meat. His outburst kept everyone on edge and almost ruined the sallah mood. When my mum found my stash of the pilfered meat, she was mad and made me return them. But that was it, she didn’t tell on me.
Bisi*, 26
My mum came to clean my room and found a condom and dildo in my wardrobe. Apparently, my clothes were scattered, and she wanted to fold them for me. I got back home, and immediately I saw how well arranged my room was, I checked my wardrobe and both items were gone. I didn’t bother asking her, and she didn’t mention it for weeks. Finally one day, she said something about not bringing “foolish things” inside the house. I knew what she meant. And that was the last of it.
Bolade* (33) is a mother of two, and her youngest child was born with Cerebral Palsy. She talks about the challenges and guilt she’s had to navigate, and why hope is the only thing that keeps her going.
The school holidays are my favourite time of the year because I can bundle my two children (aged 7 and 5) to their grandparents’ and pretend I’m free. But I haven’t been free for five years, and I hate myself for even desiring freedom.
By freedom, I mean somehow erasing the stress, worry and uncertainty that come with caring for a special needs child.
My second child, Ife*, was born with Cerebral Palsy, and she’ll live with it for the rest of her life. I love her with every fibre of my being, but sometimes I feel I’m not cut out to mother a special needs child.
My husband and I got the diagnosis when she turned ten months old. I’d been worried about how long it was taking her to reach milestones her elder sister had crossed without stress.
Ire* had jumped the crawling stage and moved straight to walking at 10 months. But at that age, Ife couldn’t sit, roll over or even control her neck. My husband and mother waved off my concerns, insisting that children were different, but I felt in my heart that something was wrong. So, I insisted on taking her to the hospital.
It was the first time I even heard the words “Cerebral Palsy”.
After the doctor explained the diagnosis, my husband said, “God will help us”. Me, I spent hours Googling the condition daily. My research only drew me into a deeper level of fear. Would Ife ever walk or even eat on her own? What kind of future could she hope to have if she couldn’t take care of herself? Would people call her an “imbe”?
I had to relearn everything I knew about mothering toddlers.
Typically, when children cross infancy, parenting becomes both easier and more difficult. The child becomes a bit more independent and learns to voice out their needs rather than cry constantly. But independent means you’re constantly monitoring them so they don’t jump into the road or drag a pot from the fire.
I’d experienced that with Ire, but with Ife, we’re still stuck in the infancy stage.
Years of therapy have made it so that she can sit upright and hold a bottle to feed herself ogi and custard now, but she still can’t walk and barely speaks. Up until she was three years old, I used to take her with me to my teaching job so she could stay with other children in daycare, but the weird looks became too much.
If it wasn’t the stares, it was parents stylishly asking the daycare teachers if it was safe for Ife to be in the same class with the other active kids. I quit my job when it became too weird — I couldn’t take her someplace else where I couldn’t watch her closely — and we’ve been home together ever since.
The daycare incident is an example of why I feel I’m not cut out for this life. I’m part of some special needs support groups online, and I regularly see other mothers share stories about the different ways they stand up for their kids. One even made her child’s school install wheelchair ramps.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t even speak up to keep my child in daycare so I could keep my job. Why couldn’t I say, “She just has a disability, she isn’t made of glass. She can be around other children,” when the parents dropped side comments about Ife?
It’s been even more difficult to explain to my eldest why her sister can’t play with her, or why she can’t play outside because Mummy can’t leave Ife alone in the house. I don’t spend as much time with Ire as I should, and I wonder if she’ll ever resent me for always putting her sister first.
But what time is left after feeding, cleaning and massaging one child and then attending to chores?
Ife throws tantrums too. If she doesn’t like the food I’m feeding her or is just upset about something, she groans loudly for hours. And I have to beg her until she decides to stop. My husband relocated to the UK two years ago — with hopes that we’d join him later — so even though he sends money, I’ve had almost no support, except during the holidays when I can leave my kids with their grandparents and breathe a little. They have a live-in maid, so it’s easier for them to manage.
Sometimes, I wish Ife was normal. Does that make me a terrible mother? Isn’t a mother supposed to accept her child wholeheartedly? I really don’t want this life. It seems there’s no end in sight to being Ife’s primary caregiver. I’ll never have a career again, and I’ll always be this exhausted, mentally drained woman.
I’ve heard that speech therapy and surgeries may help, but with my husband’s japa and my unemployment, we can’t afford it. Our only hope is to gather enough money to handle visas and flights to join my husband in the UK, so we can get her the right medical care.
People have advised me to take Ife to church and pray for a miracle. I won’t take her for deliverance sessions or anything, but praying and increasing my faith have kept me sane for a while now.
I also struggle with the fear that she won’t live long because of the average life expectancy of people with cerebral palsy.
It’s a lot to take in, and I just pray God will look at me one day and grant me a miracle. I’m not even asking for the cerebral palsy to disappear; just for Ife to be able to walk, write and talk legibly. I can only keep that hope alive.
*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.
What’s your earliest memory of money?
It has to be my mum paying me ₦10 – ₦20 weekly to work in her ice water nylon factory. Before pure water became a thing, there was ice water — cold water in clear nylons. We made those nylons in the factory, and I handled the cutter.
This was in the late 80s, and I was nine years old. ₦20 was the highest denomination, and I could buy Vip — a fruit drink — every day for five days and still have enough left to save in my kolo. Later, I’d give my mum what I’d saved to buy me Christmas clothes.
Sometimes, I’d buy about 20 pieces of puff-puff and share with my brothers. I’m the only girl among five siblings, so I had a sense of responsibility towards them.
Tell me more about your childhood
My dad died when I was almost 10, and there was no financial support from my dad’s family, so I was raised by my mum. My mum was so hardworking. She’d supply her nylons to markets in neighbouring states and do everything else she could lay her hands on — she sold everything from clothes to fashion accessories at different points. She wasn’t the type to wait for handouts, and she instilled those values in me.
She put me in charge of the house even before I was 9. A typical day in my life included waking up super early to sweep, do other house chores, and go to school or work at the factory if it was during the holidays.
My brothers also got to work. My mum would send them to farms to work and make money; she just wanted all her children to be as industrious as she was.
How long did you work at the factory?
About seven years. After finishing secondary school in 1995, my mum encouraged me to get a teaching job at a local private school, and my salary was ₦800/monthly. I barely got the salary because the school’s proprietress kept owing me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to stay there for long: I left for the polytechnic the following year.
While I was in school, my mum supported me by sending me earrings and other fashion accessories to sell and use the money for what I needed. Sometimes, I’d send part of the money I made back to her to get more goods through buses — there was no online banking then. I did that till I finished my National Diploma in 1999.
What happened after?
I studied banking, so I started a one-year internship at a bank. My salary was ₦5k monthly. The following year, I became a contract staff at the same bank, and my salary increased to ₦19k/month. I was the only one among my siblings with a stable income, so I’d usually send money to my siblings who were still in school.
I tried to return to school too. I needed to further my education to progress in my banking career and become a permanent staff member. I paid around ₦3k to register at the Chartered Institute of Bankers in 2001. The way the institute worked, you could attend classes for about six months before taking the exams. There were two exam diets annually, but I couldn’t focus because of work.
So, whenever I missed an exam, I’d re-enroll and try to prepare for the next exams. That happened at least twice. I still hadn’t figured it out when marriage jumped at me.
What do you mean “jumped”?
My husband and I were dating when I was at the institute. He’d regularly come to pick me up after classes. He was in a rush to get married, and somehow, I started rushing too. We got married in 2003.
I wish I hadn’t rushed because balancing school, career and the home was a struggle. I also supported the home financially because my husband didn’t make much. As a result, I abandoned the institute for a more flexible distance-learning university degree programme in 2004.
Was it any easier?
It wasn’t. It took me seven years to complete the four-year degree; I kept deferring semesters due to pregnancies, child care — I have two children — and work.
I was also running an imported fabrics and jewellery business on the side. I’d go to Cotonou with about ₦300k and convert it to 1m CFA. The exchange rate was still good then. I’d sell my goods to my co-workers and use whatever I made to supplement my salary. It was from both incomes I paid my school fees and took care of the home.
Was your husband contributing financially at all?
He did, a little. But there’s one thing to know about men: once they know you have work that’s bringing you money, they’d just leave some things to you. They know you won’t leave your children to go hungry.
It wasn’t an issue for me at first. I’ve worked all my life, and providing was just something I did. I didn’t see a need to ask for money for food or any other joint need. It was my mum who’d tell me to make sure I collected money for food and diapers so he’d feel a sense of responsibility.
I eventually left the marriage in 2009 for reasons I don’t want to get into. It was also the same year my bank started having problems.
What kind of problems?
The kind banks don’t recover from and are forced to close down. I didn’t even get a chance to use the degree I worked so hard for, as I only graduated a year after I left the bank.
By this time, my salary had increased over the years to ₦125k/month. The bank paid off the staff and officially closed in 2010. I got a ₦3m payout.
So sorry. But the ₦3m payout must have been a lifeline
It was. I put everything into my fabrics business and even got a shop. Everything was fine in the beginning.
But the thing about running a business while you have a stable job is that you can use your salary as a capital source if your money is tied up somewhere because of credit buyers. I even took loans to run the business and pay back with my salary. All of this ended when I lost my job.
I had a major setback in 2011 when some of my major debtors lost their jobs. They worked in a bank that also closed up, but we thought they’d get a settlement. The bank never paid them, and my debtors — all 16 of them — had no way of paying me the ₦1m+ they owed me. I didn’t even see them again.
Ah. Did they buy from you in bulk for their debt to be that high?
My goods were pretty high-end. Before you buy one lace, an Italian bag or some expensive watches, the cost starts to pile up.
That particular incident affected my business badly. But my second name is jama-jama (hustler), and I somehow stuck through it for the next nine years.
While running the business, I also learned about home design and decoration services in 2012. A friend introduced me to an interior designer who taught me the basics, and I started supplying bedsheets, picking curtains, and whatever furniture needs my clients had.
My first gig was in 2014. I procured curtains and a bar for the client’s home and made ₦80k in profit. I loved how the business didn’t require any capital. I’d just give my clients a quote, and they’d pay a percentage upfront and complete it after I delivered the job.
How often did the home decor gigs come?
Usually once every few months. But when they came, I’d take small loans from microfinance banks and travel to Aba to get materials.
Why Aba?
Fabrics were cheaper there, and I could save up to ₦500 per yard of fabric. That accumulated to a lot, considering I could buy up to 1000 yards of fabric depending on how big the job was.
I made an average of ₦200k – ₦500k from these gigs, and they supplemented whatever I made from the shop. But the shop itself wasn’t making sales. People could only look at expensive fabrics or fashion accessories after they had eaten na. So, I decided to close the shop in 2019.
What did you do next?
I still sold my goods to some clients from home and occasionally got decoration gigs. Everything I made went into providing for my children and sending them to school. Of course, this forced me to live within my means. My family was also supportive and eager to step in when I needed help with the kids.
My ex-husband supports the children in his own way. They keep in touch with him, and he sometimes sends them ₦30k once a year. What does that want to do in the life of an undergraduate student in school?
Anyway, my search for a stable income led me to the transportation business in 2022, and I ended up as a cab driver on an e-hailing cab service.
How did that happen?
The initial plan was to give my car to someone to use as a taxi and remit money to me weekly. I took out a ₦200k loan from a microfinance bank to repair the car and paint it. I was supposed to repay the loan over five weeks.
The agreement between me and the guy I found was that he would remit ₦25k every week, so I’d use the money to repay the loan I took. Then I could start making a profit after the loan had been paid off. I was the one to fix the car if it had any issues o. All he had to do was bring money weekly for as long as he drove my car.
But the guy kept giving excuses. It was by fire by force that he could even pay ₦80k in those five weeks.
Wahala
When I realised I was struggling to repay the microfinance loan, I collected my car back and told someone to help me register as a driver on the e-hailing app. My second child had just gotten admitted to study medicine, so it was all the more reason for me to double my hustle. How else would I afford the big big textbooks he’d inevitably start buying?
That’s how I started o. I didn’t even know these drivers were making big money. I still drive the cab, and I don’t intend to stop soon. It’s better than all the jobs I’ve done. By the Grace of God, there’s no day I drive that I don’t make good money.
How good is the money?
When I first started, I made ₦30k – ₦40k daily on weekdays and ₦40k – ₦50k during the weekend. The e-hailing app takes a 25% fee on rides, but there is also a ₦9k – ₦10k bonus if you complete a certain number of rides per day.
I used to push myself to get those bonuses and work every day so I’d earn even more. But when I started having high blood pressure, I told myself, “Your children are still young. Better calm down.”
Now, I work four days a week. I still earn within the ₦40k range daily, but fuel takes about 30% – 40% of that. Then, after the app removes its commission too, what’s left of my profit is about 40%-50% of my total earnings. It’s still good money, even though car repairs and maintenance take a chunk of it. I don’t make as much as the men sha.
Why’s that?
They have the strength to do longer rides and ultimately make more money. I spoke to a male driver once, and he shared how he makes ₦50k – ₦100k on Sundays because he lives in Ikorodu and takes trips from there to Ajah.
I’ve done a similar trip once when I was in Lekki and got an Ikorodu trip. That single trip paid ₦17k. Do only three trips like that in a day, and you’re easily making ₦50k+.
What’s a typical day in your life like?
I start driving at 6:30 a.m. and close at 4 p.m. Sometimes, if the traffic is a lot by late afternoon, I take two hours off driving and then work till 8 p.m. Working as a cab driver allows me to determine my own work hours, but I still take it like I’m working for someone. I don’t just go home by 1 p.m. just because I want to.
What would you say is the most difficult aspect of your job?
It gets stressful sometimes. I also have to maintain the car regularly, but I see that as taking care of my office.
I’ve heard stories about young female drivers being harassed, but I haven’t experienced it. Who wants to harass me at this age? I’ve not had any bad experiences with riders or fellow drivers. I believe respect is reciprocal. I always approach everyone calmly and respectfully, and they instinctively respond the same way. No one has been rude to me, and it’s because I’ve never been rude to anyone either.
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What do the next few years look like for you?
I’m still enjoying driving my cab. It’s a ready-made market. I don’t need to wake up and start looking for passengers. All I do is open my app, and they come.
I’ll look into returning to business when my children graduate from uni in 3-4 years so I can rest a bit. I might go back to fabrics or discuss with my children and find something else. But even if I have a shop, I’d still like to drive my cab three times a week.
I also have monthly pension payments from my time at the bank to look forward to. It’ll start coming in when I’m 50. It might not even be up to ₦100k, but it’ll be something.
What are your monthly expenses like?
To be honest, I can’t explain it. It’s just God, because how do I explain that I don’t have money in my account and I still buy ₦20k fuel daily?
But I make sure I meet up with my ajo contribution monthly. I contribute ₦50k every Sunday, and then ₦100k on the last Sunday of the month, bringing it to ₦300k monthly. When I collect the ajo, I transfer it to an account I don’t touch. It’s that money I use to sort out rent, school and hostel fees for my children, and anything else that comes up.
I have about ₦200k stashed somewhere as emergency savings for urgent repairs I need to do on my car. My car is my major expense. In 2023, I spent up to ₦1m fixing and maintaining it. Just last week, I spent ₦73k on tokunbo tyres and plugs.
What’s something you want right now but can’t afford?
I need a new car. My car is about seven years old and takes all my money with repairs. I’d like to buy a 2010 Toyota Corolla, but it costs ₦7m. I can’t afford that.
How would you rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10?
7. I don’t have everything I want, but I have what I need to provide a good life for myself and my children. God has been faithful. We don’t go hungry, and God just has a way of covering our secrets.
If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.
We’ve heard the terrifying pregnancy and childbirth stories and seen the funniest things pregnancy hormones have made women do, but what about those who got the better end of the stick in the reproduction lottery? They’re people too.
So, we asked seven of such Nigerian women to share how their pregnancy and childbirth experiences differed from what they expected.
“I was horny all the time” — Lade, 35
I have two kids, and my first pregnancy was the standard “preggy mama” starter pack. Nausea in the first trimester, crazy food cravings in the second, and a three-times-larger nose in the third trimester.
But you see the second pregnancy? I was cruising all through. No nausea or strange cravings, and I was horny all the time. In fact, my husband was running away from me because he was convinced all the sex we were having could harm the baby. The horniness stopped after childbirth, and even after eight weeks I didn’t want. He became the one begging for sex up and down.
“I had my baby within an hour” — Yemi, 29
People used to tell me first-timers have it difficult in childbirth. Even my doctor told me we couldn’t take chances, and that we needed to be prepared for an extended delivery process. So, I expected the worst.
But the day came, and I had my baby within an hour. I was far gone before I realised I was in active labour. I thought it was Braxton Hicks contractions — I’d had them some weeks before — so I delayed going to the hospital. When I got there with my mum, the nurses discovered I was close to 8 cm dilated. I was immediately wheeled into delivery, and an hour later, I was out with my baby.
“I was a ball of energy” — Mimi*, 25
It seems fitting that pregnant women should feel tired, right? I mean, we’re literally growing another human being inside of us. But me, I was a ball of energy all through. I never had the pregnancy waddle, and it’s not like I was this fit person before pregnancy. I even rearranged the whole house once because I was bursting with energy. My friends were always telling me to calm down.
My son is two now, and I’m beginning to understand why I was so energetic. The boy doesn’t know how to sit down in one place.
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“I didn’t know I was pregnant for the first six months” — Joke*, 29
I always thought these “unaware pregnancies” was a scam until it happened to me. I was six months pregnant before I knew. And how did I know? I started to feel strange movements in my stomach at night, which I initially attributed to gas, but I decided to see the doctor when it became consistent. Voila! They saw a baby in my uterus.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for it. I still had my periods consistently, and no nausea, sickness or any typical pregnancy symptom. I also didn’t have a bump till two weeks before I put to bed. I’m sure my neighbours lowkey think I stole a baby.
“Post-birth recovery was really smooth” — Debby*, 28
A church member told me that the first poop after giving birth would be painful, so I dreaded it even slightly more than childbirth. I’d also heard many stories about post-birth difficulties.
Thankfully, my post-birth recovery was really smooth. The poop was still painful, but it was more constipation-ish than the crazy pain I expected. I also had an easy breastfeeding experience, and holding my baby in my arms for the first time wiped away any pain I thought I had. Now, I know why many of our mothers went through this five or six times.
“I didn’t have stretch marks” — Moyin, 27
This probably sounds shallow, but stretch marks were one of my biggest concerns with pregnancy and childbirth. I know many people who developed stretch marks and even called it a “badge of honour”. I appreciate the sentiment, but I didn’t want them. For context, I do a bit of modelling, and I didn’t want lasting scars.
I must’ve used everything in this world during pregnancy. Shea butter, coconut oil and every anti-stretch mark ointment I know. I also didn’t scratch my belly at all. It worked. I’m four months post-partum now, and zero stretch marks.
“There was no weight gain or huge nose syndrome” — Hannah*, 30
Weight gain and “huge nose syndrome” is like the hallmark of pregnancy, based on what I’ve seen and heard. But I was pleasantly surprised I didn’t experience either. I practically maintained the same shape throughout my pregnancy, minus the belly, of course, and you couldn’t tell I was pregnant by merely looking at my face.
It wasn’t a one-time thing; it was the same experience for my two pregnancies, and I’m grateful for that.
*Some names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.
We all know it takes a village to raise a child, but a loving partner is a great place to start. These seven women share how their partners’ love has helped them navigate motherhood and childcare.
“My husband is the purest evidence of God’s love for me.” – Kenechukwu, 30, married
We’ve been together for three years — dated for two, married for one — and he’s everything I didn’t know I needed. I’m currently pregnant, and he makes pregnancy easier. He’s never missed a hospital appointment. This man listens to every random complaint and observation I have about my body changing or the babies. Sometimes, because my hormones are raging, I start a fight, but he somehow finds a way to diffuse the tension. It feels like we’re both carrying the pregnancy. My husband is the purest evidence of God’s love for me.
“Anything he thinks needs to be done, he’ll do it.” – Ola, 41, married
My husband and I have been together for ten years, and it’s safe to say he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He helps with house chores, is always present, and cares for our children without me asking or prompting him. He bathes them, prepares their meals, helps them with their homework; anything he thinks needs to be done, he’ll do it.
“He wants to be as involved as possible in the welfare of my son” – Esther, 31, dating
My partner and I have been together for seven months. He constantly tries to make my day less stressful. If I have to go anywhere with my son, it doesn’t matter the reason, he’ll drop everything else and make himself available to take us. He runs errands for my job and offers to watch my son when I need a break. As long as it’ll take the stress off me, he’ll do it. He wants to be as involved as possible in the welfare of my son. And no, he’s under no illusion that my son will call him Daddy… but he loves him.
“He’s constantly asking if I’m okay and doing things to make me feel better.” – Love, 27, married
My partner and I have been on-and-off for about five years. We’re married now with a 25-day-old. My husband owns his own company, so he can do “whatever he likes,” like take paternity leave to care for the baby even though his mum and I are in the house. He also got a nurse for the baby in addition to the maid and cook we already have. He helps feed her on days when I’m too tired to even hold her. She sleeps through the night, so our sleep isn’t disturbed, but she eats every three to four hours. Sometimes, when the alarm goes off, he tells me to keep sleeping and goes to take care of her.
He’s constantly asking if I’m okay and doing things to make me feel better, like giving me massages and picking up my favourite snacks every time he goes out.
He’s white, and I’m black, so he stands up to idiots who decide to call my baby a zebra.
“He always makes himself available for anything I need” – Elizabeth, 39, married
We’ve been together for nine years, and every day, I wake up grateful for how my husband takes care of the kids and me. He shares the household and childcare workload with me; he cooks, cleans, does the dishes, feeds the children, bathes and dresses them up. When I need a break, he’ll take the children for walks. He listens to all my concerns, provides reassurance and always makes himself available for anything I need.
“I can go to sleep knowing our toddler is getting the best care from him.” – Caroline, 29, married
We’ve been together for about ten years and married for three. I often joke about how I’m not sure I could have done motherhood with anyone else. He bathes our baby, while I make her breakfast, and whenever we all go out together, he keeps an eye on her. He’s better at managing her energy level than I am. I can go to sleep knowing our toddler is getting the best care from him.
“I know motherhood is about my children, but he makes it easier by just taking care of me.” – Grace, 53, dating
We were together before I got married. After I lost my husband, he was available, so we just continued the relationship and have been together for about two years. My kids are in different countries right now. I know motherhood is about them, but he makes it easier by just taking care of me. He keeps me company, makes sure I know I’m loved and cared for, and takes up the role of a father in the children’s lives.
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As a firm believer in women’s ability to succeed at whatever they set their minds to, I’ll always argue that raising children doesn’t have to stop a woman’s career or professional dreams.
Of course, there are always counter-arguments about how rare it is to combine the two — motherhood and career — well, without one hurting the other.
So, I asked six women who currently live in this reality about the things they may have done differently, knowing what they know now.
“I’d have waited just a bit longer for kids”
— Olamide*, 39. Educationist
I absolutely love my kids, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, but I think I had them too early.
I got married in 2012, and though my husband and I agreed to wait two years before having kids, so I’d have time to pursue my master’s degree, I started getting impatient after the fifth month. It didn’t help that womb watchers started to put pressure on me.
I eventually had my first baby the following year, and it was harder than I thought. My children are still young, so I haven’t had time to go back to school. Further education is important in my field, and since there’s a limit to how far I can go in my career without an advanced degree, I’ve settled for teaching in a secondary school, for now. I also provide educational consultation for some clients, but my goal is to lecture and I need an advanced degree for that. I may eventually find the courage to do it one day.
I just wish I had been patient enough to just wait out the two years.
“I wish I explored more”
— Ehis*, 43. Business analyst
I’ve only ever worked in one organization, and I’ve been working for about 18 years. I guess I feel indebted to them in a way, since they believed in me when I was still a bright-eyed, inexperienced graduate, and also supported my wedding financially when I got married 12 years ago.
By the time I started having kids, I got comfortable and didn’t think to consider better job offers. I was scared of working with someone who wouldn’t understand if I randomly needed to take sick leave because my child developed a toothache.
I know if I had overcome my fear, I’d have better industry experience, a great personal brand and essentially a much higher salary by now.
“Please, don’t be afraid to ask for help”
— Yetunde*, 38. Nurse
I’m a bit of a perfectionist, and I like to do things myself. It got so bad that when I started having kids, and my husband suggested getting a nanny to help out but I refused. I wanted to handle everything myself.
Even at work, I had the opportunity to ask my colleagues to help cover certain shifts, or even speak with my supervisor, but I didn’t. I guess I was trying to prove a point: that I could balance my career and family life.
Of course, the pressure got to me and my job suffered. I didn’t get fired, but was passed over on some promotions. I know better now so there’s no use beating myself up. But prospective mothers, please ask for help.
“I wouldn’t have allowed myself to get guilt-tripped”
— Rofiat*, 41. Personal assistant
I was working as a customer service officer in a bank when I had my first child in 2010. My work was still stellar, if I do say so myself, but my team lead was always dropping snide remarks about how my attention was now divided.
I started feeling guilty about speaking up, even if it was to communicate that I was running a few minutes late, and I decided to quit to save myself the stress.
I started a business for a while before caving in and going back to the corporate world in 2019. It was tough because of the large career gap but I eventually got my current job.
Looking back, I could easily have looked for another job because I had an amazing support system, but my former boss already made me believe I’d not be giving it my all. I’d have been in a much better place in my career now.
“I’d have stayed at my job”
— Kiki*, 35. Teacher
I resigned from my research assistant job immediately after I got pregnant in 2014 because I wanted to be a full-time mum. I love my kids, but I underestimated how much I needed to work in order to feel like I’m doing something with my life.
It took me almost falling into depression and a family intervention for me to see that I was already turning into someone I couldn’t recognise. I got a primary school teaching job in 2021, and though it’s not where I could have been, I can live with it for now.
“I wouldn’t change anything”
— Iyabo*, 48. Accountant
I had to take a three-year career break in 2006 when it seemed like balancing two kids and a demanding job would be the end of me.
Luckily, I have a supportive husband who understands how much I love what I do, and he’s the one who encouraged me to try going back into the industry. It was difficult, and I job-hunted for close to two years before I finally got a job in 2011.
I’m not where I’d have been if I didn’t take a break, and I understand age isn’t really on my side for career prospects, but I’m grateful I get to have both — a career and a loving family.
*Names have been changed, and answers slightly edited for clarity.
Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here. This is Zikoko’s What She Said.
Image credit: Upsplash, @vitaelondon
This week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is a 45-year-old Nigerian woman. She talks about spending the last 22 years in the UK moving from one menial job to another, not wanting her daughter to see her retire as a shop worker and finally going back to university.
What’s something about life you’re enjoying?
Working towards going back to school next year. It hasn’t been easy though. I didn’t think I’d actually care to get another degree after my bachelor’s in education in 1999. It took three months for me to even find my university certificate to apply for the programme I’m currently considering.
So what prompted your decision to go back to school?
After 14 years of working in retail stores in the UK, I’d like to get a proper white-collar job, possibly in a government office as administrative staff.
Retail is a time-consuming and physically tasking job. As I get older, I don’t see myself being able to keep up with loading shelves and working late nights.
An office job would come with much higher health insurance and retirement fund than my current job, and I’d get to close at 6 p.m. and stay home with my husband and daughter during public holidays.
Now that my daughter is eight and a lot more independent, I can sit down to work on my applications without so many distractions.
Before your daughter, what made getting a new job difficult?
I got into the UK illegally in 2001. I couldn’t settle in as an immigrant until 2008 when I married her dad. So at first, retail jobs were a means to getting paid in cash rather than opening up a bank account. It’s not possible to get one without proper papers.
Omo. So how did you get into the UK?
Through my older sister. She and her husband decided to take a trip with their three-year-old daughter to Cardiff, in 2001 and took me along. I was 24. After two months of living there, I couldn’t imagine coming back to Nigeria. I lived in Lagos with no job or real plans for the future. So when it was time to return, I told my sister I wanted to stay back.
Of course, she advised against it, but I felt I could manage on my own.
And she was cool with that?
No. But she couldn’t physically drag me back.
Image credit: iStock clipart
Did you have any plans?
I’d heard stories of a lot of Nigerians moving to the UK by refusing to leave after coming for a holiday. Of course, no one ever named names, but I knew there was some truth to the gossip. I felt like I could do the same.
I didn’t think beyond staying back with the family friend we’d stayed with during our two-month holiday.
So how did you scale through?
Well, I got a cleaning job that paid cash. They didn’t ask me questions about my work permit. And since my brother-in-law schooled in Cardiff for his master’s, he was able to get me fake working papers through some of his friends.
You weren’t caught. How?
I made sure I didn’t walk around unnecessarily. If I didn’t have any houses to clean, I was home. But I knew hiding didn’t change the reality that I could be caught at any time. All it took was one random ID check or a phone call to the police from a colleague who didn’t like me. I made it as far as I did because of God.
My sister was also a huge support system. Back then, renewing visas wasn’t as complicated as it is now. So whenever my sister or her husband had a friend going back to Nigeria, I’d give them my passport and they’d pay for it to get stamped. We did that like once a year.
Wow
Yeah. We tried to tick all the boxes as much as we could under the radar. Plus, Cardiff is a small town, so people rarely got into your business.
I can’t imagine what it felt like to constantly be afraid
I wasn’t thinking about that. I made the decision to stay and understood the consequences. There was no going back.
After almost two years of living with my friend, I had to find my own place. She’d gotten pregnant and wanted her boyfriend to move in. I never liked the guy. Imagine coming home to an entitled white man who didn’t seem to have any plans for his life. There was no way I’d be comfortable putting up with him in those tiny UK flats.
Were you prepared to move out?
Yes and no. I honestly didn’t have a plan on how to get a permanent residence visa in the UK, but I was saving up to explore my options with school. The sudden transition from having a home to potentially being homeless was going to slow down the process.
So what happened next?
I got another job. This time, one of my colleagues from the cleaning company linked me with a man who needed someone to manage a home for homeless old people around the neighbourhood. He needed someone to make sure things didn’t get out of hand whenever he was out of town.
The pay wasn’t great. But at least, I got a room to myself and didn’t have to pay for rent anymore.
He didn’t do a background check on you?
He was an old man. I don’t think he cared. I just had to reassure him I had two years of experience in cleaning. The work extended to much more than cleaning though — I had to manage the daily activities of the guests — but what other options did I have?
What gave you peace of mind, considering your illegal status?
Mostly church. It was my happy place; my faith kept me together. I also had someone I started dating in 2004. We met in church when I first moved to the UK and things gradually grew between us. He was a Jamaican man born in Britain.
He knew about my situation and supported me the best he could, but there were days I just wanted to go back home.
When did things start coming together for you?
2008. But before then, things completely fell apart.
What happened?
I decided to get a new job in 2005. I’d spent a year working at the house, but I didn’t feel fulfilled spending my entire day stuck inside. I started to look out for store jobs that paid in cash. I didn’t want to continue with a cleaning job.
How’d that go?
The job I got was at a food store owned by an older Nigerian woman. She was a citizen, and quite friendly, so I opened up about my issues with documentation to her. It took me four months to get to that point of trust, but it was the worst mistake I made in the UK.
A few weeks after our conversation, immigration officers showed up at the store. Luckily, I was walking down to the store with my boyfriend that morning, so he followed me to their office.
Do you think your boss snitched?
Maybe. I never got a chance to confront her. Anyone working at the store could’ve overheard our conversation, or even a customer, who knows? But they came straight toward me, and I knew the last four years were going down the drain.
Omo
They took me to their office and things moved fast from there.
Since my boyfriend was a British citizen, he was able to intervene.
How?
The paid visa I’d gotten through my sister had expired a few weeks before I was caught. So my boyfriend told the officers he was the reason I hadn’t gone back to my country yet. He explained he wanted to travel back to Nigeria with me to get married, hence the delay. He also got a good immigration lawyer to plead for my passport to not be stamped since we’d be getting married soon.
Did you still have to leave the country?
Yes. I had a week to pack up and leave. But a year later, my boyfriend came to Nigeria for our wedding. We got married and moved to the UK immediately after our marriage certificates were ready.
Before then, I won’t deny I’d lost hope. I wasn’t happy to be back in Lagos sharing a room with my niece and not having anything tangible to do every day. But I kept in touch with my partner through phone calls, and sometimes, Facebook.
A part of me felt ashamed.
Why shame?
At 28, and after four years of living abroad, I didn’t have anything good to show for it. Compared to my older sister, my life was pretty unsuccessful. She was 31, married with two kids at that point, and to my parents, those were achievements. Praying was the only thing that kept me together during that one year in Lagos.
Thinking about it now, would you have done things differently?
No. I’m happy I took the risk in my early 20s. It wasn’t the wisest decision, but I’m here today. The struggle taught me I can survive anything. That’s why I’m not bothered about going back to school at 45.
The only thing I’d change is coming back to the UK in 2008 after we got married, and sticking to the same menial jobs because it was the only thing I knew how to do. I don’t want to retire as a store attendant.
I hope you’re able to change careers
Thank you. I also want my daughter to be proud of me. I see how excited she gets when my husband talks about his job as a psychiatrist. I want her to look at me with the same pride when I talk about my day too.
If you’d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid, click here to tell me why
Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here.This is Zikoko’s What She Said.
This week’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is a 29-year-old Nigerian woman who got married, had her first child and relocated to the UK in quick succession. She tells us about juggling school, work and motherhood, and just how hellish it could be to stop breastfeeding your baby.
Tell me about leaving Naija
All my life, I’ve wanted to do my master’s right after BSc. and launch my professional career on a high. But a lot of things happened — like, my dad passed right before my final year — so once I graduated in 2015, I kinda just said, “This will be the final bus stop, joh. I’m tired.”
What changed?
Well, they say marriage comes with its blessings, and I can attest to that. Because right after I got married, the resources to pursue a master’s came through from both families. It felt like a dream come true, everything working together at once.
And I married someone I’ve known for 15 years. We went to the same secondary school, so we’ve known each other and kept in touch for that long. We dated for three years after my NYSC in 2016 and married during COVID in 2020. It’s been an amazing experience so far. I don’t want to sound cliché, but marrying your friend, it’s like we’re not even married, we’re just living together. There’s no routine, no rules.
Must be nice
Very nice. But for every next level, there’s a new devil; there are challenges that come with it.
Hmm… Let’s hear it
Hands down, the craziest time of my life was giving birth to my first child in 2021, but more precisely, getting her off breast milk after moving to the UK. I’ve never come across people, even parents, who talk about how hard it is to stop breastfeeding. And I don’t get it because… it’s crazy. Like, it’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me in my entire life.
Oh wow. Let’s get into it a little bit. What made it crazy?
No one warned me about it. No one even tells you it’s something to prepare your mind for, at least, not in Nigeria. I’ve seen other people go through it, but I guess you don’t know what it’s like until you experience it yourself.
Please, tell me about your breastfeeding experience
So first off, I relocated with my husband and new baby to study in the UK this February [2022]. She was about ten months old at the time. I was juggling her with school until I got a job as a caretaker at a nursing home and started juggling all three.
Most weekdays, I attend classes from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., go for my evening work shifts then back home to take over babysitting duties from my husband, who works nights. Some nights, we have virtual group meetings for school, and I’m that student who has her baby in her arms, petting and begging her not to cry while trying her hardest to participate. I’m even a group leader. I also work on weekends from 10 to 5 p.m.
When she turned 14 months in June, it made sense to get her off my milk completely.
Breastfeeding her was painful from the beginning. I didn’t start producing milk until six days after her birth. And two weeks later, I woke up to find my left nipple bleeding. My mum told me to let her continue sucking with the blood, or she won’t accept breast milk from that breast again. My doctor also said the milk ducts could clog up if I didn’t let her despite the pain. You can’t imagine how painful it was. Thank God it healed after a few days.
Thank God. I’m so sorry
It was a lot.
I started weaning her at six months. But by 14 months, she would still avoid solid food because she knew she had something to fall back on. Then there was the midnight thing. Once she woke up to breastfeed, I found it difficult to go back to sleep. I needed it to stop.
So what did you do?
The entire experience took about six days. But you see those six days? It was like hell on earth. My breasts were full and swollen. I couldn’t pump the milk out, she couldn’t suck, and it was painful. Besides the pain, there was the fever. Having to combine that with a master’s programme and work? Well, it was a lot.
And you had no idea any of this would happen?
Honestly, no.
I feel parents, mothers especially, should tell their children the breastfeeding phase is hard. But it’s not talked about at all. It was painful. I could barely touch my body during that period because even the smallest part of my skin, in fact, to pee and poop, hurt. They tell you it only lasts three days, but my breasts were still producing milk by the fifth day.
What about your antenatal checkups? Shouldn’t those have prepared you for the whole breastfeeding process?
I had a serious health condition during my pregnancy I don’t want to get into, but I couldn’t attend most of those sessions. I was practically bedridden. But even if they mentioned it during antenatal, I bet they don’t stress the pain enough.
How do babies react to being taken off breastmilk? How did your daughter take it?
That’s part of it… part of the pain. I couldn’t handle her tears. It was traumatic. Her dad had to hold her while I hid from her. She still hasn’t forgotten about the milk, tbh.
But now, I give her water whenever she reaches for my breasts. From what I’ve observed, she only asks when she’s thirsty.
Knowing what you know now, would you have opted not to breastfeed at all?
No, I would’ve still breastfed my baby. I see how it’s helped her, especially those first six months. She was extremely healthy; people would ask if I was sure I was only feeding her breast milk.
Besides that, it helped us bond. I can’t explain it, but there’s just this connection that’s lasted even beyond the weaning period. That first phase was like getting to know her properly. It was the only way we could communicate. I would definitely breastfeed my next child.
Fair enough. What are some things that made the experience better?
Like I said, her growth gave me so much satisfaction. Watching her gave me the validation that I’m doing something right. Secondly, my husband. He made things way easier for me than it would’ve been if I had to go through it alone. The support is unmatched, from the day he found out I was pregnant up until now. He’s a real blessing.
Love to see it! So how do you feel in the aftermath?
I feel like the old me again, thank God.
What’s something that keeps you going through this hectic period?
I still get As in my courses!
It gives me great joy that I’ve always wanted to do this — to be an academic with a bright career in the corporate world ahead of her — and it’s happening. Every time I remember this, it’s all just worth it.
If you’d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid, click here to tell me why
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.
From: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters
To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls
Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm
My loves,
Sharing our story is so difficult. It hurts me physically, and I’m so weak I can’t even talk. But I have to keep going.
A year after losing Sapphire, I moved on from your father. I was still grieving but found myself wanting someone around. So I started dating again. It didn’t feel wrong because I knew I needed to move on from the past year. But the relationship was over barely six months in. He felt uncomfortable with me working with your dad. I didn’t see the issue since we’d both moved on from our marriage.
I was heartbroken all over again and mad that he didn’t trust me. And somehow, your dad was conveniently there. We had sex and pretty much got back together.
We were together for seven months before I found out I was 18 weeks pregnant with you both, Harmony and Melody. I was off my birth control when your dad and I had sex, so it wasn’t a surprise. I felt both scared and excited we had another chance. But then, I lost you both.
All I remember was ending up with your lifeless bodies in my arms after nine months of imagining your faces. Only the memories of carrying you in my belly kept me alive on my worst days after that.
Harmony Oluwatunmininu, you! You reminded me of myself and all the stories my mum used to tell me about what I did to her while she was pregnant. Every time I felt movement, I knew it was you. You were the most active and must’ve tormented Melody. I remember seeing you slap your sister during an ultrasound. I wish I caught it on video because it’ll sound unbelievable to anyone else. But I saw you.
I planned to tell that story every single day to every single person, especially at your wedding, and be that embarrassing mother. I understand that you couldn’t live without your sister and needed to be with her. I hope you’re having fun scattering all the toys in baby heaven and frustrating all the angel nannies.
Melody, my sweet girl. I named you Oluwatamilore after my best friend because our strength and perseverance reminded me of her. I’m sure she would’ve loved to meet you. You were the calmest twin, but I know you fought so hard to stay alive. I wish I could’ve helped you fight more. I hope you can see Harmony up there. Please give her a big hug and kiss for me.
Losing you both was hard. I had people blaming me for going back to your father. But I’d do it again if it means I could’ve been a mum today. I wish I could hold you both just one more time. I wish I could see your faces again and hear you cry. I still visit your graves, and I promise to do this as often as possible so you never feel alone.
Mummy loves you with every fibre of her being. Until we meet again, my princesses, remember that.
Forever in my heart,
Mum
If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why
Navigating life as a woman in the world today is interesting. From Nigeria to Timbuktu, it’ll amaze you how similar all our experiences are. Every Wednesday, women the world over will share their experiences on everything from sex to politics right here.This is Zikoko’s What She Said.
Today’s #ZikokoWhatSheSaid subject is Nkechi Ebie, a 50-year-old Nigerian woman. She tells us why 22 was the most interesting age of her life, why she avoided committed relationships for many years after university and the pregnancy scare that made her retire from her party days.
What has been the most exciting phase of your life?
Definitely my university days. Age 22 was exciting for me. In Benin, I met friends who knew how to party well. I’d grown up with a protective older brother and two older sisters, so partying hadn’t been a part of my life before Benin. We threw parties on campus and clubbed around town, but my favourite part was being able to wear jeans. Unfortunately, when I had my first baby three years after NYSC, girls were into skinny jeans. I was 29, and as a mum, I couldn’t follow the trend.
Why did you feel that way?
I’ve always been on the big side, but I didn’t think a lot about my body until after my first child. Do I wish I never had kids? No. But I do wish I could go back to the Ngozi of my university days.
Don’t get me wrong. I could’ve worn anything I wanted to, but squeezing into a pair of jeans felt so unfamiliar after months of dressing in huge maternity dresses. I still put on make-up and wore gold hooped earrings. But I felt like the rest of my body needed room to breathe.
So what was the style of a 29-year-old mum in 2001?
For me, the style came in form of the corporate outfits I wore to work. The eight hours I was away from work were the only moments I was just “Ngozi,” not “Mummy”. I ended up as a banker after NYSC. And one of the things I loved was my skirt suits and bold red lipstick. My kids laugh at those pictures from 2002 to 2003, but they’ll get there soon.
LOL. Did life ever get as interesting after that?
Not really. It had nothing to do with not loving my kids. I was just mostly unprepared for how motherhood happened to me.
How?
Towards the end of uni, I lost the man I wanted to marry. He was shot. We’d been together since my second year. I struggled with his death for a long time because I truly fell in love with that man. While I partied away in uni, I was very particular about sticking to one guy. I didn’t mind that my friends were dating around and hanging out with different guys.
Why were you particular about sticking to one guy?
Maybe it was my older brother’s strictness that kept me reserved when it came to sex. Sometimes, he’d show up at my hostel unannounced. I didn’t want to be hanging around many different people because I knew he’d make it a big deal. And once my mother got that kind of news, she would have been on the next bus to UNIBEN. I wasn’t ready for that.
And the man you ended up with? Did you love him as much?
Not in the beginning. I wasn’t planning a life with him when we got together. I had commitment issues and didn’t care to be invested in anything. I was too scared about someone I loved dying again.
I’m sorry that happened.
Thanks. It’s strange because I said 22 was great, but grief made me lean into being a full-on party babe at 26. And that turned out to be fun too. I didn’t want to feel anything too deep. Everything was casual. The sex, the hangouts, none of it meant anything to me. The guy I eventually married — Chima* — was just someone I happened to be constant with. He was a guy in my class who liked me and always wanted to date me, so I leaned into that comfort.
So when did things become official with Chima?
When I found out I was pregnant in 2001. I was done with NYSC in Kano and had gotten a job in Asaba. It was 2000, and I was partying more than I’d ever done before. My boss at the bank was a friend, and after work, we’d go out with other colleagues for a beer or two. If it was a Friday, none of us was going home. Chima and I would also see each other sometimes.
We used protection, and we were careful enough. I was still getting my periods too. So I didn’t realise I was pregnant until about three months in. We had been seeing each other casually for a year by then. How I realised I was pregnant was the most ridiculous event of my life.
LOL. Please, do tell
It was a typical day at the office. I was feeling sick, but I didn’t think much of it. I’d had a few pregnancy scares that turned out to be nothing, so I didn’t overthink. But by closing time, things got worse and I fainted.
My colleagues rushed me to the hospital, and that’s where all my wahala started. First, the man who took me to the hospital was friends with my older brother, who was living in Lagos at the time, while I was in Asaba. The guy sent me straight to Lagos to meet my brother the next morning.
Were you scared?
No. I was sure it was his baby because I’d been having sex with just him in the last six months. I knew my brother wouldn’t take it lightly, but he’d also been living with his girlfriend in Lagos. He didn’t have a right to say much. The fear was only triggered by the thought that I’d have to marry Chima. With my kind of parents, there was no way around that. Even I wasn’t willing to go through the stress of being pregnant and single.
And Chima? How did he take it?
He’d always wanted a serious relationship. I wasn’t surprised he was excited about it. In a matter of weeks, we were introducing our families and making plans for our traditional marriage. Everything needed to happen before my belly began to protrude. My parents were respected people in the Catholic community, so no daughter of theirs would be pregnant out of wedlock. None of my sisters had done it.
What made the transition bearable was the fact that I knew Chima loved me. He did. I was never as fully committed as he was, but that never mattered to him.
Were you honest about why you couldn’t commit?
He knew right from the start. The part I hid was how much I struggled with the idea of being with him when we finally got married. I felt so guilty. I was moving on with another man’s child when the person I’d planned a life with would never get the chance to. I tortured myself with “What ifs”.
Even after the marriage?
Yes. Chima would want to make jokes and laugh — normal things people do in the honeymoon phase. All I wanted to do was cry. It’s a miracle the man wasn’t fed up. When I had my baby and was happy, I felt that same guilt. I think that phase of trying to get used to being fully committed also made dressing up fun for me, especially after the baby. It took me back to when I had a bit more control. I had to get over myself after the first year of being a mother.
How were you able to let go?
Honestly, I never did. But after one of my long cries in the bathroom, I was tired. There was no point in my self-imposed suffering. I still think about him occasionally. Although when my daughter went to uni, I thought about him more often. She’s also going through her partying stage, and it reminds me of when I was 22. I like watching her Whatsapp stories when she’s away. She blocked me, but I have her younger sister who I recently got a phone for.
They’re ten years apart, so her sister is always home with me. When she comes back from school, we go through what her older sister shares. That age gap was the best decision I ever made.
LOL. Wow
LOL. That’s the only way I know what’s going on. Beyond that, watching her reminds me of a time I enjoyed. I don’t doubt I’m still that party babe who knows how to have a good time, but when you’re 50, you find other ways to enjoy life. One of those ways happens to be watching my daughter live out her 20s right now.
How about your style right now? What does a retired 50-year-old party girl wear?
When I get the chance, I mostly want to wear absolutely nothing. Everything is stressful to put on. I think the only thing I’ve become obsessed with as I’ve gotten older is bags. The bigger the better. Then, there’s the red lipstick for when I want to show people that being 50 doesn’t mean I’m too old for anything.
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We asked six Nigerian women what they would do differently if they had the chance to become mothers again. Here’s what they had to say:
1. Dupe, 60
I would learn each of my children’s love language and correct them in a better way than I did.
2. Valentina, 48
If I had the opportunity to start afresh, I would discipline my children more and enforce more rules on them. Simple things such as making them do things immediately I ask them to would go a long way in making sure that they turn out to be more disciplined adults than they are right now. The way they are now, it’s obvious that I was too soft on them, and that I was too protective. I would definitely let them face more hardship than they did growing up. I’d let them go out on their own earlier and face more challenges than they did. They grew up too sheltered.
3. Patience, 56
First of all, I would go abroad to finish my master’s before I have children. Then, I would use my first salaries to build my own house so I can have a more settled life. I would basically invest more in my finances so that when I finally have children, I’ll be able to provide more for them. I didn’t invest enough in myself when I was younger, and I went ahead to have children, forgetting that I have 8 siblings, and black tax means that I’d spread my earnings across my own family and my extended family. If I made better financial decisions, I would have been able to provide for my children better.
4. Toun, 56
There’s lot of things I would do differently if I had the chance to start parenting afresh.
First of all, I would marry a different husband that would join me in raising godly children early enough, and not one that counteracts my upright upbringing with subtle criticisms and displays that a laissez-faire life is superior.
Then, I would honour my children more by protecting them from an overdose of respect and service to domineering inlaws who claim some kind of lordship over them. I would no longer be stupid to allow the traditional culture of “we must train them together” to affect my parenting. In my experience, these people shielded their children, while “training” my own. I was too stupid, looking on and letting uncles and aunties turn my children to errand boys and girls, letting my children sleep on the cold floor while they took over their beds, and allowing them to eat the best part of the meals, all in the name of family, love, warmth, and hospitality. These people lived with me. I sent them to school.
When it was their turn to receive me, they treated me like trash. I couldn’t even send any of their children to get me a glass of water. It made me feel stupid because I could have lived a nice, simple life with my children and they would have enjoyed me better, but I decided to be Mother Christmas and spend all my time and energy on people who didn’t do the same for me.
Then lastly, I would spend more time with my children. I would play with them. Now that they are grown, I really miss them. There was a saying that was popular when I was growing up “Ọmọ tó bá da ni ti bàbá ẹ, ọmọ burúkú, màmá ẹ ló fà” (When a child turns out good, he’s his father’s child, but when he turns out bad, it’s the mother’s fault). I raised my children with anxiety because I didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t turn out well. So I was very strict. It didn’t help that my husband was nonchalant in parenting, so I had to take up training and discipline both as a mother and a father.
I have three children, and parenting is very difficult. If I was to do parenting all over, I’d marry a very rich husband so that we can hire plenty maids and helps to do the parenting while I spend all my time traveling and touring the world.
6. Alo, 59
If I could turn back the hands of time, I would focus better on my health and deal with my health challenges more hands-on, instead of casually thinking my family members and doctors had the best interests for me. I didn’t do any research, I just went with whatever whoever told me and it led to more complications. That affected the way I brought up my children.
The subject of this week’s What She Said is a 54-year-old woman who has three children she doesn’t like. She talks about how they felt like distractions and how her relationship with them has only gotten worse with age.
Let’s start from the beginning. How old were you when you got married?
I was 26. I wanted to get married, but I wasn’t really sure who I wanted to marry. I had a number of options. I was sleeping with one of these options — he was a colleague in a different department.
I got pregnant. Abortion wasn’t an option. I was Anglican then. Even though I’m religious now, I won’t judge anyone who aborts a baby. Back then, I couldn’t even think of it. Also, I was scared of dying.
My parents too would have killed me if they found out I had an abortion. So when I found out, I was worried about what to do. Then I came up with a plan to tell my parents I was engaged, so that once I started showing, the pregnancy would not shock them.
You didn’t tell the father?
That was the next step in the plan. After I told them I was engaged, I went and told him I was pregnant and that my parents said we had to get married.
Truthfully, that wasn’t a problem because he was ready to marry. I just wanted to rush the process. I had to do a lot of people-management to ensure that nobody spilled what I had told them.
How did your parents react?
They didn’t want me to court for long. You know how mothers are. My mother, God bless her, just wanted us to have a really big wedding as soon as we could. We got married three months after. I wasn’t showing, so my parents didn’t know. They began to suspect when I started showing within a few months of being pregnant.
Did anyone catch your lie?
Oh, not at all, but I eventually told my husband that my parents never forced us to get married. I’ve always been the kind of person to sneak around. As a young girl especially. Although I’ve changed now, I do think I enjoyed the thrill of doing that. My husband didn’t feel duped. He wanted to get married. He was much older, I should mention. He was in his 40s.
So what was that like? Getting married so fast? How much of him did you know?
Quite a lot from working together and going out together. But we were not necessarily in love. I was a romantic then. I wanted to marry someone I loved, but he wasn’t all about that. He was the opposite, a strong-head. People were not marrying for love as they are today, but I was optimistic that we would eventually fall in love. And we did, sooner than I expected.
How did that happen?
I had a stillbirth. That was the first real traumatic experience I had in my life. I had never experienced grief like I did. I was just crying and gnashing my teeth. I said God hated me.
That should have pushed us away from each other, but it drew us together. I say that it should have pushed us away from each other because first of all, he really loved that child. Second of all, it was the foundation of our marriage. When it happened, we became so close and started protecting each other. That was simply how we fell in love.
That’s sweet. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Thanks. We went a few more years before trying again. I felt that our relationship had become monotonous and didn’t have any ideas on how to make it better. All we did was talk about work. Even though we no longer worked together, we still worked in the same industry. We were both very career-oriented people.
Unfortunately, getting pregnant this time was war. We simply couldn’t get pregnant, no matter what we did or how we tried. The doctor said we were both fine, that we just had to keep trying.
When I turned 32, I got pregnant. I decided I was going to resign and be extra careful because I was scared of miscarrying or having a stillbirth. The doctor said I was okay to work way into my third trimester. I said I didn’t want to. I had a very easy pregnancy, but I was in bed almost all through. I took up sewing and would make many things for my baby. I wasn’t excited because I was scared, yet, I was expectant.
When my baby girl came, I didn’t feel anything.
What do you mean?
I had assumed that I’d at least be excited that I got another chance to have a child. But I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t sad, and I’m not sure if I was depressed, but I wasn’t happy at all. I would spend hours staring at my child, expecting to become happy by just looking at her. Nothing happened. I faked happiness though. I faked the tears. Everyone around me was so excited; I just had to. And I couldn’t tell anyone.
That must have been hard for you.
Yes. Then child number two and three followed in quick succession. For number two, it was a difficult pregnancy. When I cried after giving birth, people thought it was tears of joy. It was, but it wasn’t because I was happy about my child. I was just happy I had gotten him out of my body. Once I had my third child, I told my husband we had done enough.
What happened next?
He wasn’t thrilled about this. He wanted four children. He first tried to cajole me into having one more. Then we fought about it when I told him that if he wanted any more children, he had to either carry them himself or go and find another wife. Eventually, I made him understand that I had wasted five years of my life on having kids and would be wasting a lot of more time out of work if I had a fourth child.
You didn’t work all through the period of time you were having kids?
I tried to get a job when my daughter was two. My mum was staying with us, so she was going to help. I applied to different places but my application was rejected. I finally got a job, but a few months later, I got pregnant again. This time I didn’t quit because I wanted to protect my child from dying or anything, I quit because the workplace was hostile to me. People made jokes about my body that I was uncomfortable with. If I had to miss work for a check-up at the hospital, they would remove it from my salary. It was very rubbish. I left and didn’t bother until after I had my third child.
What did you do then?
I went to do my masters. I was 39 and was the third oldest in my class, but I didn’t care. If I was going to go back to the workplace, I felt that I needed an edge, and pursuing my education would give me that. My mum had basically moved in with us at that point. I didn’t even bother with my kids. She cooked their food and took care of them. She gave them the love that I simply did not have the time or care enough to give. She was with us until she died. However, by this time, they were old enough to take care of each other.
Wait, during the time your mother took care of them, did you have any relationship at all with them?
Not as much. I showed up for all the school events; sometimes, my mum or husband went. I was never excited about these events, as other mothers seemed to be. I tried to take them out when I could. I bought them what I thought they’d like. At some point, I thought they didn’t like me too, because they didn’t tell me things. My first daughter had her period, and it was my sister who told her what to do. I didn’t find out till a month later. I felt like a horrible mother. I still feel like a horrible mother. I took it out on her. I lashed out and that pretty much framed our relationship for years.
What do you mean?
She went a few years without talking to me. Except it was necessary. She didn’t tell me things. She only told my husband or my mum.
Was going back to work the main factor?
Yes. It definitely did affect my relationship with my children. I was working seven days a week. My mind was on work because I really didn’t want anyone to make me feel left out because I have children. But I never really liked them from the beginning. I loved them, but did I like them? I didn’t. They felt like distractions. They demanded time and energy.
What about the other two children, what’s your relationship with them like?
Last born is my baby. I cherish her. That became a problem for my second child because he thought that I had favourites. They used to fight a lot when they were younger. And I didn’t help matters. I didn’t know how to mask my favouritism or limit the way I spoiled my last child. My mum actually warned me about it; I didn’t listen. Eventually I stopped spoiling her and that became a problem. She began to say that I hated her. She didn’t tell me this. She told my sister, who told me. My sister said I didn’t hate her, that I was just busy with work. She said she would pray to God to make me lose my job.
Child number two and three became wiser and formed an allyship that was against me. They realised I was the problem. I would scold the boy for being messy and the number three would tell me that I should leave him alone.
Wow. What was your husband like in all of these?
Just as absent as I was. He was busy with work, but he seemed to have the parenting thing on lock. He was definitely a better father than I was a mother.
Then he became sick and died. That was quite the painful experience. I hadn’t experienced anything as traumatic since the stillbirth. But again, grief played an important role in uniting us, making us come together. But that lasted only for a short while.
What’s your relationship with them today?
Nothing has changed. We just grew apart more and more. It feels like I am alone most of the time. My first daughter has moved out. She’s doing impressive work. We talk. I’m closer to her than the others. She says that maybe she had to leave home and get a well-paying job for me to start respecting her. I don’t fault that reasoning.
My son lives at home, but we don’t talk a lot. I think he’s trying my patience.
How?
Not going to church anymore. Dyeing his hair. Wearing earrings. He started it after I complained about someone in church who dressed like that. I haven’t said anything to him about it. Both us will continue looking at each other. But he is teaching me not to judge other people.
My last girl on the other hand is in university. She rarely calls, so I have to call her and shout at her to call. That path is still very rocky. I don’t like teenagers of any age.
Lmao. Is there anything you’d do better about motherhood?
Maybe I’d have sought help. I was educated enough to know there could have been a problem. Also, I think not all women need to have children. It’s okay to not want them. They’re not just fillers in a relationship. They’re real people. I wish someone had told me this.
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Although some people regret having children, there are still some that have things to be grateful for about being a mother. These five Nigerian women share the best thing about being a mother.
Zuma, 34
My favourite part of being a mother is the fact that I have little people that think I am the best thing since banana yoghurt. The way their faces light up when I walk in to a room, the way they try to impress me, I love it so much. Also, being able to impact another human being is nice.
Iwade, 56
There is something so great about watching a child grow from a tiny baby that needs constant care and help, to an adult that still somehow needs care and help. Watching them and knowing you were a major part of their lives almost makes everything worth it. Almost.
Yinka, 34
I think the best thing about being a mother, is that I am always learning from my kids. They see the world differently and are completely open. Being a mother has made me a better person in so many ways, and has helped me with knowing who I am. My children are also very entertaining and funny.
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I was raped when I was 16, and I decided I was keeping the baby. I was alone in my head all the time and I thought a baby would change that. Did it change that though? No. I am still very alone in my head. The only difference is that now, I always know I am loved. No doubts, No maybes, No what ifs. Just loved.
Atinuke, 55
It is hard to pinpoint one thing because I have really awesome children, and although they can be annoying, they are good. So, the best thing about being a mother are my awesome children.
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The subject of this week’s What She Said is Karo Omu, a 29-year-old Nigerian woman and mother. She talks about almost having a miscarriage when she was five weeks pregnant, liking her daughter and the importance of giving women enough information about reproductive health.
Did you always know you wanted to have a child?
Yeah, but I don’t think I did consciously. I think when you’re a young girl, it’s normal to think that you would go on to start a family. I always thought I wanted many children, but I didn’t think about how I’d end up having them. I am from a big and close-knit family, so I wanted a big family too.
What was growing up like?
I have four sisters and a brother. My brother is the last child, so maybe my mum favoured him a little, but my dad was really big on his daughters. In our house, being a girl or a boy wasn’t that different. My mum had nine siblings; eight girls and one boy. Her mum really wanted a boy, and I think my mum was conscious of this — having a boy. My dad on the other hand came from a family with many girls and boys and was more progressive, so he didn’t seem to care.
So what was your pregnancy experience like?
I think before our generation, pregnancy seemed like a normal thing: you’d get pregnant and have a child. Nobody spent time speaking about the journey; instead, they talked about the labour. I found out really early about my pregnancy — in about the 2nd or 3rd week. I had two near miscarriages. I took a trip when I was five weeks pregnant, and on the flight, I noticed I was bleeding. I didn’t know flying wasn’t good for someone who was newly pregnant. As soon as I landed, I was taken to the airport clinic. I remember someone saying, “She’s in her first trimester, this happens all the time. It’s just tissue. If it’ll stay, it’ll stay.”
Wow.
I was like, what the hell is happening? I went back home in Nigeria and had a similar experience. I went to the hospital and the doctor did a test and told me that my body didn’t recognise I was pregnant, so it wasn’t producing hormones to take care of the baby growing inside me. I had to start taking hormone injections; I had never heard anybody speak about this. I couldn’t fly till I was past my first trimester.
The rest of my pregnancy was uneventful. But because of the anxiety I developed in my first trimester, I was always worried; I would wake up every day to see if my baby was moving. It got so crazy, I bought a heart monitor to listen to her heartbeat. That was something I wasn’t prepared for. When we talk about how people don’t talk about pregnancy, it’s mostly because everybody’s experience is so different that there’s almost nothing to go by.
Fair enough.
Yeah. I didn’t have a physically tough pregnancy, but it was mentally tough for me as I was in a different city by myself, with only my husband. It was really lonely not having my extended family around. My baby was overdue for over two weeks, and my mum was like, this has never happened in our family, it’s crazy. My pregnancy journey was long, enjoyable, beautiful, but I was mostly tired of being pregnant.
I can imagine. What has motherhood been like for you?
Haha. Very crazy. I like my daughter, so the more I like her, the more I like being her mother. But, it’s so tough. It took me a while to remember that I am separate from my child. Motherhood gets so overwhelming, it becomes all of your identity. But now, I really like being a mum. I like being my daughter’s mother; that’s part of my identity. It took me a while to accept it, by removing myself out of it, then choosing it. Knowing that this is part of my identity doesn’t make me feel less of who I am.
My daughter is three now. I went to work when she was seven weeks old because I felt like I really needed that. Then it got to a point where I felt I really needed to be at home with her; I did that. When the lockdown began, I realised that I have to be best friends with her because she’s an only child. She’s the reason I get out of bed on some days and that gives me a sense of purpose.
Compared to being born and raised in Nigeria, how has raising your child outside Nigeria been?
Growing up, I had a lot of extended family and friends around, which meant everybody had an opinion about how you were being raised, and it was so easy for that to be projected on your parents.There was a lot of “what will people say?” even in the littlest choices. While my child may not have that communal feeling, I get to raise her with less thought to what people will think. But, I think children like mine miss out on that familiarity and safety I had growing up.
What are some things you’re already worried about with raising your child?
I don’t know if it’s a Nigerian thing, but I hope my kid doesn’t have to hear a thing like, “What will you be doing in your husband’s house?” or “Let the boys go first.” I have always worked around social change, and my motivation is that I want my daughter to grow up in a better world.
When I was a child, I would wait till 4 p.m. before watching TV because that was when it came on. But for my kid’s generation, there is so much information they have access to, and I am conscious of the fact that it’s my responsibility to filter what my child is exposed to.
Also, she didn’t ask to be here so it is my responsibility to make her life work while also respecting her autonomy as a person. It’s very interesting and often challenging to navigate.
My parenting journey has made me even more passionate about women having adequate reproductive health information and resources. Children shouldn’t have to be born as a consequence to parents who don’t want to have them.
This makes me wonder about the work you do with Sanitary Aid. Is there a personal story there?
Just before I turned 10, my parents asked how I wanted to celebrate my birthday. That year, I had just found out what an orphanage was. I told my parents I wanted to take my cake to an orphanage, and they were so excited that they ended up letting me throw three parties: one at home, another in church and the third at an orphanage. It was almost like I was rewarded for that thought.
I became a volunteer teacher when the IDP camps started and gradually started getting involved in social work. My bishop then had adopted kids, and they became my friends. I would teach them, and whatever project I had begun with them.
I liked how it made me feel when people I worked with were happy, so it was almost like a selfish thing for me.
How did all of these lead to creating Sanitary Aid?
Sanitary Aid was a Twitter conversation about donating pads versus condoms. I remembered when I was in secondary school and my pocket money was 200 or 300 naira. There was no way I’d have been able to afford pads if they were sold for their current prices.
I had always thought about the issues affecting women and how we could make our lives better. Sanitary Aid was an avenue to help. Women having dignity and information was an agenda for us. It opened my eyes to how different experiences shape the things we do. I’m a feminist; to me feminism means equality because women lose so much to gender inequality. We lose so much time, respect, dignity and money to not being equal. This is one of the reasons I joined the Feminist Coalition, and the focus has been on how we can create more opportunities for women. I am very committed to conversations and work that promote women’s rights and give them visibility and help underserved communities.
This was how Sanitary Aid started, and a few weeks after that, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know what I was getting into when it just began.
How were you able to manage Sanitary Aid while pregnant?
It’s just kudos to my team and family because they have always supported the project. We have grown into a full blown organisation and have public support. So, people who want to help do it on behalf of the organisation. That gap existed and all that was needed was a conversation to be had, which we did.
It would have succeeded with or without me because there are always people willing to do something about the problems we have in the society.
What challenges do you and the organisation face?
Some of the challenges are that some things, such as getting approval, take so much time. Then there is financial constraint. It’s important for me to create spaces where women can talk and be heard and question why we find things more appealing when we hear it from men than from women who are the ones experiencing this thing.
One thing that always happens in this kind of work is that there is always going to be somebody else, and I’m totally not against so many people doing the same thing. If I wake up tomorrow and realise that there is no more period poverty, I’d be so happy regardless of who made that happen. As long as people are making change, that’s great. But, it’s also important that we question ourselves on why we are not listening when women are saying the same thing.
What does success look like for Sanitary Aid?
It’s a lot of things: it’s getting to the point where we have our social enterprise that will fund Sanitary Aid. Currently, we rely on partnerships and donations, which aren’t sustainable. I am very big on sustainability because so many people depend on us, and we can’t afford to crash and fall out of what we are doing. Success will also be having policies that tackle period poverty, even if it’s the government giving out free pads to girls. Also, we want to get to a place where we have funding for research in Nigeria on women’s reproductive health and reaching more girls and women. Success for us is a lot of things, but it’s mostly us being able to fund ourselves, more girls and women having access to sanitary pads and hygiene education. Period poverty is a by-product of poverty, so without tackling poverty and the issues that stop women and girls from having access to sanitary pads and makes them choose less hygienic means, we are never going to get to where we need to get to as a country.
We need to tackle poverty head-on. Not having access to information on Sexual and Reproductive health has a long term effect on women’s lives. I hope we get to where even the government is talking about the importance of menstrual hygiene and having access to quality and affordable products.
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Motherhood is a plethora of experiences including listening to your kids say the darndest things. In this article, 5 Nigerian mums tell us the most interesting things their child has ever said to them.
Adesuwa, 27
My daughter is three years old. One morning, someone in the house asked how was her night after she woke up. She turned to me and said, “Mummy I didn’t sleep throughout the night.” When I asked why, she said, “I was busy thinking of how to make money for you.”
I think this says a lot about me.
Tomi, 34
Children are undefeated. One day, my kids — a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old — wanted me to share my internet with them. I said no. They asked why, because I always have data on my phone. I said because I am not broke like them. Then the ten-year-old said, “If you are not broke, we wouldn’t be sharing a compound with other people.”
Sola, 32
My son is three years old, and he has limited speech for his age. So most of the time I struggle to interpret what he’s saying. One night he entered our room, saw me faffing on the bed and said, “Get up from there.” He was very clear. I asked my partner to be double sure and he confirmed. I hold on to it on days when I’m worried if or when he’ll speak.
Tosin, 36
My 18-month-old daughter is very enthusiastic about food. Her default response to food is ‘snice (It is nice). One day she put her hand in my food and tossed a piece of diced fried plantain in her mouth. She spat it out immediately, shouted no and walked away in a huff. Her dad hates plantain, so I don’t have to worry about DNA.
Arabella, 30
It didn’t happen to me, but I was in a room talking with some mums during my daughter’s ballet class. We were talking about ear piercings, and one little girl asked her mum when she got her ears pierced. Her mum said, “As a baby, my mum took me to get it done,” and the girl replied, “Oh no, that’s sad — nobody asked you if you wanted it but they did it anyway.” We were all stunned in the room. A lesson on consent from a five-year-old.
After asking some Nigerian women to share why they do not want children, we asked some that do have children if they regret the decision. These four Nigerian women share why they regret having kids.
Abimbola, 44
Maybe regret might be a strong word because I absolutely adore my children, but since I turned forty, I had found myself asking a lot of “what ifs”. I got married when I was 23. By 25, I had my first child. 28, I had my second. 30, I had my third, and 32, I had my fourth. I spent over a decade of my life birthing and raising infants and toddlers. People say that the twenties are the best time of your life, but I spent mine changing diapers, birthing children, and breastfeeding.
My thirties weren’t any better. I had to deal with those small children, school runs, teething, all the other things. Now, I am in my forties and I am dealing with rebellious teenagers. I wonder if I will ever be free from being a mother, and just be an individual. I wish I had forged a career path, done more than go to the University in terms of my education. and just lived. All I really wish, is that I got the chance to live. If I never had any children, I would have probably been able to do more things for me.
Fadeke, 37
I have just one child, and she almost killed me. I got pregnant three years after marriage, at the age of 30. The entire period through the pregnancy up until the birth of my daughter was hell. My husband tried his best, but he could not take the pain away. Nobody could. I had gestational diabetes while pregnant with her. Now? I have type two diabetes. I wonder what my life would be like if I never had her. Being sick for the rest of my life is not something I envisioned for myself. Sometimes when I see my daughter, I feel a type of resentment towards her. I know it is not her fault, but I just get angry and cry. I feel like she stole something from me.
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I had my son when I was 22 years old, as an undergraduate in a school in Nigeria. It was a one night stand, and I forgot to use morning after pills. A month after, I found out I was pregnant. Till now, his dad is nowhere to be found and I’m honestly not bothered. I love my child, but I often wish I didn’t have him. It’s been tough raising him alone with little help from my parents. I often have to split my income into two, with him getting the larger portion. I also haven’t been able to be in a successful relationship for a while now, as most men do not want to be associated with a single mom. Having children in my opinion isn’t really necessary. I can’t make plans without considering him and it’s tiring, exhausting, and painful. I’m at a point in my life where I’m not sure if I’d want to have more kids. Sometimes, I just want him out of my sight and very far away from me. I cry most times and I snap at my son a lot. I often regret doing it, but I can’t help it.
Chidera, 32
When I got married, all the women in my family spoke about how children are a blessing and I thought so too. What they don’t tell you is how children rob you of your dreams. I did not even realise until my seven-year-old asked me what I wanted to be, and then it dawned on me that I was not even close to achieving that dream. When I was in my 20s, I wanted to be an Economics professor. I never got to do my Masters because I became pregnant, then I had to wait for two years to reapply because of breast feeding and nursing. By the time she started school, I got pregnant again. I love my children, but I realised I sacrificed everything for them and that made me resent them just a little bit. I keep wondering what life would have been like without them, and that life sounds more like the dream I had when I was younger. Talking to my husband about it was useless because he could not understand it. He did not have to drop everything in his life to raise children. I did, and I really wish I didn’t.
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Preparing for motherhood is a whirl of nerves, hopes, and high expectations. However, there are a lot of things books, documentaries, and other resources do not quite prepare mothers for. 5 mothers share with us what 9 months of pregnancy did not prepare them for.
Fati
I experienced uterine contraction backache, sore nipples, lack of sleep, depression, baby crying for no reason, etc
Shade
The possibility of losing your child due to a stillbirth at 37 weeks. That’s what 9 months of pregnancy didn’t prepare me for. The grief is so total and final. Then you start to see babies everywhere you go.
Ann
Motherhood is tougher than I expected. All my attention and that of my husband is on the baby. No one told me I’d feel the pain from breastfeeding in my skull nor did they mention the injuries one sustains trying to breastfeed. Plus, learning to cope with the stress of balancing my business and being a mom. I was gunning for 4 children but that number has reduced to 2.
Folu
I was excited when I had my baby girl since I’ve always wanted a girl as my first but the problems started with having a C-section. This made breastfeeding extremely difficult as I wasn’t lactating because I couldn’t eat. When my breast finally cooperated, it was water that came out and my baby is a foodie. I got sore on my breast and my mother-in-law told me they won’t go away unless I breastfeed my baby. All the books I read didn’t prepare me for this. My baby cries a lot, sometimes, I find myself crying with her. I think I was on the verge of postpartum depression.
Fortune
My baby stayed past his due date and I had to be induced for labour. I was ready for the pain but not the quantity. I don’t know about vaginal birth, but I know about C-section. Every time you hear a mom talking about CS, you think it’s the easy way out, but they never say how they spend more days in the hospital, you don’t eat until you fart, which can take days. I had to use a device to pass urine, I was heavily dependent on pain relief for weeks, I had to take injections, bear the fever, and still breastfeed. Also, the separation process is so hard. Being away from my baby for almost 8-9 hours makes me anxious, I am just lucky to have trustworthy people watching him for me.
Here are some of the things no one tells you about becoming a mum:
Elizabeth – 26.
Nothing actually prepares you or warns you of what lies ahead in motherhood. It can be described as a rewarding experience, but very little is said of how overwhelming it really is. Especially if you have no help. The euphoria of being a first time mom soon vanished when the sleepless nights started. This was after the three months Omugwo. I should have eased into it you think…I got pregnant again when my baby was barely 3 months. So, I was battling with a crying baby and my pregnancy symptoms. Here is a list of what no one warned me about:
1) “That I would cry when my baby is crying. This happened to me several times when I couldn’t ascertain exactly what my son wanted and had tried all I knew.”
P.S: sometimes they cry when they are tired and want to sleep. Why can’t they just close their eyes you ask? sigh.
2) “That effective time management is not an easy skill to come by. I wonder how some mothers get things done in that same 24 hours. Most times I just live by the day and try the best I can.”
3) “You would feel guilty about dropping off your child at the daycare, but the guilt wears off when you are able to get other things done.”
4) “That spontaneous smiles, hugs, and kisses from your child could lighten up your day.”
5) “You are super excited when you experience certain milestones such as crawling, walking. For your child’s first words, you may even shed a tear or two.”
Chi-chi – Undisclosed age.
1)”No one tells you that your nose would become approximately 125.75 times its original size during pregnancy. That would practically be the first thing people notice when they meet you. And wait for it – you’d probably look less beautiful. Yeah that too. Especially if it’s a boy…. so they say.”
2) “The craving??? I am sure you were told about that too. What they failed to mention was that you will forgo the seafood okro in your kitchen in search of Iya Bose’s reaction ewa agoyin. The one whose kiosk is on a plank right above algae-filled drainage. So yeah! E be things.”
3) “Lagosians are super nice to pregnant women. Even the crudest of conductors. Plus you get extra ‘fisi’ from market women and meat sellers. Be ready to have cars stop for you when crossing the road and definitely not because you are on a zebra crossing.”
4) “You get asked some really Ph.D. worthy kind of questions from your kids. Like “why can’t God come down so that he would ask the governor to fix the bad roads?”
5) “You get used to finding a spoon, a toy or some other random item (heck, might even be your very own underwear) in your purse at the oddest places…say like an important meeting. ATM cards are hardly found when you need them.”
6) “Your phone is never yours. At some point you have to become nonchalant to the gazillion times when your phone would be smashed on the hard floor. Plus your kids will become your unemployed P.A willing to take your calls and inform callers that you are doing number two. They might even bring a video call while you are bathing. Sigh.”
Bidemi – Undisclosed age.
“No one tells you that shoe size increases per childbirth. I have two kids and I can’t explain why or how I moved from size 40 to 41 after the first child. Then, after the second child, it became size 42🤷♀️.”
Toyo – 25.
1) “Postpartum depression is very real. The vibes you get around you when you’re pregnant and put to bed is very important. You have to guard your mental health even if you appear selfish.”
2) “Being induced during childbirth is really painful. There’s no nicer way to say it.”
3) “As a new mom, Google is your best friend. It’s safer than taking advice from everyone.”
4) “Breast milk might not flow immediately. You might also find it difficult to produce enough milk.”
5) “Your vagina might not go back to the way it was pre-pregnancy.”
6) “You’d monitor baby milestones in the first year like you’re being paid. Every milestone crossed is usually a big deal for most mothers. Some people won’t be able to relate with your baby craze.”
For as long as she could remember, getting married and starting a family was this woman’s ultimate goal. And that’s exactly what she did. Getting married at 20 and having a baby at 21. Now, one kid in, her perspective on life and motherhood has changed.
How long have you been married?
5 glorious years now. And I’ve enjoyed every bit of it.
And what’s married life like?
Honestly, it’s like playing Russian roulette. Which sounds a lot more dire than I mean it to. But you just don’t know what you get out of each day. My husband and I are both spontaneous, so it might be that.
First child at 21, did you plan that?
Honestly, we didn’t but we also didn’t plan to stop it which seems ridiculous now. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I was 2 months gone. I had missed my first month’s period but I’m used to my period being sporadic so I didn’t think twice about it.
Your reaction?
I was ecstatic o. Like I said we hadn’t exactly planned for it, but we hadn’t planned to stop it. But for as long as I could remember getting married and starting my own family was the ultimate goal. I had excelled in school, graduated with a first class in Economics so a lot of people didn’t expect me to get married so soon after school. I was supposed to start my career and become this big shot career woman you know.
By the end of final year I had been dating my husband for four years. We met in my first year, he was in his final year in Engineering. He got lucky and got a job straight out of Uni, so by the time I was done he was stable. There was just no reason to wait.
What did he think?
The only person who had worse baby fever than me was my husband. He’s still that way. I was still breastfeeding this one when he started talking about baby number 2. I just said Oga calm down. But he was the practical one. First couple of weeks, first several weeks, in fact, my head was still in clouds. I was picking out baby names and shopping for cute baby stuff. He was the one that sorted out prenatal class, bought the baby books arranged the doctor’s appointments etc.
Is he till hands-on?
Haha no, not like then. And I bet you knew that already. All of that was the really easy stuff. It didn’t feel like that at the time, but preparing for the baby is really nothing. It’s even fun sef.
I don’t work. Well, at least not a 9-5. I’m a full-time housewife and I run a very small scale food order service on the side. His job, on the other hand, is, of course, a full-time 9-5 and sometimes he’s required to be offshore for weeks at a time. So I’d say no he’s definitely not as hands-on. He loves his child very deeply and provides for her, but her primary care is left up to just me.
How did pregnancy go?
I was one of the really lucky ones. No morning sickness or significant weight gain. I had a lot of food cravings and my feet ballooned but apart from that it was as easy as a pregnancy could get. I hear your first child is your most difficult but I just popped mine right out. My labour time was I think 7 hours in total which is pretty great.
First month of motherhood?
Hmm. Lol actually now that I think about it, the first month was good o. Because that’s when my mother did her omugwo. And she spoiled me rotten. In fact, if I could redo that month I won’t have let her. All I was doing was feeding my baby. She was changing diapers and taking baths for her and picking her up when she cried. I did all of that stuff sometimes during that month, but I didn’t feel pressured to because I knew my mum was there to do it if I didn’t. I was really chilling then and I didn’t even know it. I’ll wake up every morning saying I was stressed. I didn’t know what I was in for once my mother left.
And after the first month?
That is when shit got real. I don’t know how we planned it but as my mother left my husband also went offshore like the week after. My mum was supposed to pop in once a week to help but then she got sick. So it was just me and the baby for 7-8 weeks. I never actually went to a doctor to get diagnosed but in those weeks I think I tethered on the edge of postpartum depression. First of all my baby was a crier. Every new mum says this but mine was on another level, I was sleeping maybe three or four hours a day. Then I got a blocked milk duct but I couldn’t stop breastfeeding. The blocked duct meant my baby wasn’t getting enough milk which made her cranky and breastfeeding for me was painful which made me cranky.
Now?
She’s 4. So she’s at that age where she can’t help but leave a mess everywhere she goes. I got help when she turned one and I’ve always had help since then. Which is funny because I swore I’d never be that person. I struggled with the guilt of getting help at first. I was a full-time housewife my only job was to raise my kid. I shouldn’t have needed help. Now I’ve come to the realisation that trying to form super mum is foolish. If you can afford it get all the help you need. If it’s 4 nannies you want, get the 4 nannies.
Your biggest struggle?
Forming a bond with my child. I also realised a lot of new mums are liars. That thing about forming an instant connection or falling in love with your child the minute you take them in your arms is a lie. And if I had known that before having my baby I’d have saved myself from years of guilt. For a very long time it was just this thing that needed my constant attention and cried all the time and didn’t let me sleep and stopped me from having a life. Then they were the body image issues. Everyone told me how lucky I was not to have gained too much weight and I didn’t but my body just doesn’t look the same. From when I was 15 till when I had my baby my waist line was 25”. It’s 29 now. Which doesn’t seem like a big deal. But I just don’t like what I see in the mirror.
And the best thing?
This is hard. Half of the time it might seem like I’m complaining but I really do love being a mother. I don’t of it’s possible to have just one best thing about it. The smallest things about her thrill me. Recently she started saying ‘I love you’ a lot and even if it’s to everybody from me to the gateman, hearing her say it, is the best part of my day.
Would you have done anything differently?
I’d have waited and planned a roadmap for myself. At 21 I couldn’t see beyond having a husband and a child. That was it for me I didn’t think of anything else. I thought of maybe working after I had three kids but I didn’t make any concrete plans. And after the baby, you are no longer a priority. Whatever plans you want to make have to be made around your baby.
Still want three kids?
No, I’m ok with just this one. Which is an abomination apparently because ‘what if something happens’. But I think that’s an odd way to look at life. My husband thinks I’ll still change my mind but then he has thought so for four years. I know he’s still hopeful but for now, he seems accepting of my decision and I’m grateful for that.
