“You’re older than me but because I gave birth I’m now Aunty”

There’s something about giving birth that makes random people act like they know you, especially if it’s a place you frequent. People on your street, at your workplace, or even on that road you pass every morning just to leave your estate suddenly feel entitled to greet, question, or advise you.

There’s this older man whose ringtone for me is “Mama Ejima.” Every time he sees me, he greets me by that name. And me, being the respectful person I am, I smile, say thank you, and ask how he is, because it can’t be one-sided. I was raised to respect my elders. He might not even be older than my dad. Maybe he’s just experienced certain things in life; he looks older (honestly, I don’t even know how any of us are surviving in Nigeria).

I finally put to bed, and I know he knows I didn’t birth twins, yet he still calls me “Mama Ejima.” And this time, he adds, “Do you have anything for me?” Sigh.

Then there’s another random stranger, someone I don’t know from Adam, acting like we’ve been close for years. “Ah… you don born?” he asks, like it’s news. The urge to say, “Sir, if you saw me pregnant, wouldn’t that mean I would give birth?” was real. But I can’t blame him too much, my tummy didn’t show until my seventh month. So I just answered with a polite “Yes” because I’m well-trained.

Now, when I’m out, the questions and stares roll in. In the early days, it’s “Well done oh, wetin you born?” or, for the more polished ones, “Congratulations! Is it a boy or girl?”
I honestly don’t understand why the sex of the baby is such a big deal to people who aren’t the parents. It either shows how nosy people can be or how supportive they’re trying to sound.

Then comes the next question:
“How’s the baby?”

My response? “He’s fine.”
Or is he supposed to be anything else?

Sometimes, I feel like that question is low-key questioning my ability as a mother. But I try to remind myself it’s coming from a caring place. Still, the baby will always be fine! It also shows that my own mother is doing a fantastic job as a stand-in nanny.

But here’s what really gets to me: Why doesn’t anyone ask, “How are you?”
Mothers need to be asked that. While we’re doing our best caring for the baby, who’s caring for us? This post shows what should be normalized in motherhood

I’m not talking about “snapping back” to a flat tummy (although, sitting on a bucket of hot water wasn’t exactly my idea of recovery). I mean the emotional side of it all. The tiredness, the overwhelm, the mental toll.

Instead of just bringing pampers as a gift (which I still appreciate, believe me, I could burn through three bags of 105 pieces easily, though I’ve only done one so far), how about bringing ice cream? Chocolate-flavoured, to be precise.
Why is it always pampers and wipes?

And back to this whole “Mama Ejima” thing, why do people, especially in the South, see a pregnant woman and immediately call her “Mama Ejima”? Like, we all know she likely knows how many babies she’s carrying.
What if she’s not planning on having twins, like me?
When someone calls me “Mama Ejima,” especially in the market, my reply is always, “No, thank you.”
And I mean it, no, thank you. Because with everything I’m already dealing with, I honestly can’t add that label to my list. Every mother who delivers more than one baby at once deserves a standing ovation — and zero unsolicited assumptions.

Even Mothers Aren’t Left Out

As my baby grew older, other mothers found more ways to be in my business, constantly comparing what I’m doing now to what they did. I don’t understand why it’s hard for some people to realise that that’s your child, not mine.

Please, do not advise me to give my baby water when I don’t, simply because you started giving your baby water early. Don’t ask me why I haven’t started giving solids to my three-month-old just because it worked for you. Or why I’m not forcing my baby to sit at two months so they can crawl by four months.
It worked for you, and that’s great, but as a mother, I make decisions that are right for my child. As long as what I’m doing is not harmful to their health or development, then please, respect my choice and encourage me.

But no — everybody must have an opinion.

Note to self: When I find myself in that same position, resist the urge to give unsolicited opinions.Every mother out there is just trying her best, and that’s all we can do. Instead of giving opinions, let the words we share be kind, thoughtful advice. Advice that comes from a good place and is offered without pressure. Leave it up to us to decide what to take and what to leave. And please, don’t phrase things in a way that makes us doubt our skills (because, honestly, most people do).
Support us. Encourage us. You’ve been there before, and that’s exactly what we need.