Omugwo Without My Mum
Based on a true story from our community.
I always dreamed my mum would be by my side when I had my first child. She taught me how to cook, how to pray and how to care for a family. She told me stories of her own omugwo, the Igbo tradition where a new mother’s mum comes to stay for a month or more to help with the baby, the house and her recovery. She promised she would do the same for me, wherever I was.
But life had other plans. My husband and I had moved abroad for his job. We applied for a visa for my mum months before the baby was due. There were delays, then a refusal. She could not come.
When my husband told me, I cried and cried. How could I have a baby without my mum? How would I learn to be a mother without my mother?
Getting ready, without her
My husband held me and said we would manage. We would video call her every day. We would cook the omugwo foods ourselves. We would fill the house with music and our favourite Nollywood films. I appreciated him, but there was still a hole in my heart.
So we prepared. We found an African store and ordered everything that tasted like home: palm oil, every kind of swallow, pap, soup ingredients, dried fish, Agege-style bread, tinned sardines, milk and baby cereal. When the delivery arrived, our kitchen smelled like home for the first time in months.
Before the baby came, we cooked and froze yam and catfish pepper soup, okra soup, ogbono, plantain porridge, stew and pepper sauce. In the evenings we danced to our favourite songs and watched The Wedding Party, Lionheart and Half of a Yellow Sun, laughing so we would not cry.
The day he arrived
I woke up with a sharp pain and knew it was time. I grabbed my hospital bag and the framed photo of my mum from my bedside. In the car I held her picture and whispered that I loved her and needed her.
In the delivery room, I felt more alone than ever. But I was not alone. My husband held my hand, wiped my sweat, prayed with me and cheered me on. I had underestimated him. He was my rock.
After hours of labour, I heard a cry: loud, beautiful and sweet. They placed my son on my chest, and every bit of pain and sadness disappeared. We named him Chukwuebuka: “God is great.”
The village that showed up
We video called my mum, and she laughed and cried and blessed us. She practically lived on our screen: showing me how to massage the baby, care for his belly button, burp him, eat well and rest. She was not there in person, but she was at my omugwo.
Then our church surprised us. Members brought jollof rice, fried plantain, chicken stew and moi moi, plus clothes, books and nappies. They even arranged for an older woman to come each day to bathe the baby and help around the house. Abroad, I never expected anyone to have time for me. I was wrong.
I got omugwo without my mum, but not without love.
If you are expecting a baby abroad
- Start visa applications for family very early, and have a backup plan
- Cook and freeze meals before the due date
- Tell your church, mosque or community group your due date
- Accept help when it is offered, and ask for specific things
- Set up regular video calls with family
- Ask your midwife or hospital about postnatal support services
- Look after your mental health; talk to someone if you feel low for more than a couple of weeks
Over to you: Did you have a baby far from home? Who showed up for you? Tell us in the comments or share your story.
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