For many parents, the hardest part isnā€™t their childā€™s disability. Itā€™s the guilt, grief, exhaustion, and constant worry that theyā€™re not doing enough, even when theyā€™re giving everything they have. 

In this article, we spoke to eight mothers about what itā€™s really like to raise children with disabilities, and the joys, heartbreaks, and difficult truths that come with the journey.

1. ā€œI Believe His Deafness Alienated Him From the Worldā€ ā€” Doyin*, 45

My son was born deaf, and although he is almost 20 and doing okay for himself, I feel like I failed him as a parent. My husband died a month before the birth of our son, so I struggled a lot. I wasnā€™t that close to my siblings; my in-laws thought I was the one who killed their breadwinner, and because of this, I didnā€™t have enough of a support system. Maybe if I had more people in my life, I wouldnā€™t constantly feel like I failed as a parent. 

I was able to enrol him in a school for deaf people, but I believe his deafness alienated him from the world. I didnā€™t know much sign language, so our conversations were always limited, and because of that, we donā€™t have a great mother-son dynamic. He barely had friends outside the ones he made at school because kids who could speak and hear always got frustrated with him for not understanding them. 

I couldnā€™t take him to a lot of events because he didnā€™t know how to read lips, and he hated that so much. He was a very lonely child, and although the world is better now and people are kinder to him, I still think I could have done more to make his life easier 

2. ā€œShe Got in Trouble for Being Unable to Perform Basic Reading and Writing Tasksā€ ā€” Amirah*, 39 

My twelve-year-old daughter has dyslexia, and I didnā€™t even know what it meant until her aunt, a psychologist, visited us for the first time, pulled me aside after a week of spending time with us, and asked me if I knew what dyslexia meant. That night, I conducted thorough research on it, and it started to put a lot of things into perspective for me. 

My daughter has always struggled with school. In primary school, she got into trouble with her teachers because she was unable to perform basic writing and reading tasks that most of her classmates could. We even had to change her school at some point because a teacher got so frustrated with her that he beat her till her body got marks. There was a time I sacked one of her home teachers who got too comfortable with calling her an olodo (dullard) whenever I wasnā€™t around to supervise. My husband and I thought she was just a child who didnā€™t like school and that she would eventually grow out of it. Thank God for her aunt. 

After her aunt guessed dyslexia, we booked an appointment with a neurologist who assessed her and confirmed what weā€™d already known. All we had to do was get her all the aid she would need. A week after her diagnosis, we found a private tutor who specialises in dyslexic children, and honestly, life has gotten better since then. She still struggles, obviously, but she seems happier, and honestly, Iā€™m just glad.

3. ā€œI Would Love It if She Were Like Other Toddlers Her Ageā€ ā€” Etim*, 28 

I have an autistic toddler, and I canā€™t lie, Iā€™ve not been having a great time with this parent thing. Iā€™m glad my husband and I have the financial resources to help her, but it hasn’t been easy. I know my daughter didnā€™t ask for this; itā€™s not her fault, but honestly, it has been so difficult. 

She is mostly nonverbal, so communication with her always ends in screaming, scratching, and tantrums. Unlike most kids, she shows little interest in anything or even anyone. She has a special interest in dolls, and that is the only thing she focuses on. It makes my heart ache because while her neurologist has assured me that she is not going to remain non-verbal forever, I would love it if she were like other toddlers her age. 

The worst part is that a lot of my friends and family do not understand autism or what it means, and theyā€™re not making efforts to educate themselves because they believe itā€™s ā€˜oyinbo illnessā€™, and itā€™s quite frustrating watching them pray over her head as if prayers would fix her. Iā€™ve had to distance myself from most of them because theyā€™re not even making the situation better. 

4. ā€œThereā€™s a Lack of Consideration for People With Disabilities in This Countryā€ ā€” Ngozi*, 38 

About three years ago, my son got into a life-threatening accident that permanently put him in a wheelchair, and ever since then, my eyes have started seeing the lack of consideration for people with disabilities in this country. Taking care of someone in a wheelchair is already hard enough as it is, but it is maddening when the places you visit do not have provisions to cater to people with disabilities. 

This is my biggest frustration about this. Few places in our state actually have wheelchair ramps or elevators, so there have been many times when my husband had to carry our son up the stairs, and on every occasion, I end up crying. I donā€™t mind moulding my life for my son and sacrificing certain things to ensure his comfort. It just pisses me off because when we step outside of our home, he faces the discomfort I do my best to shield him from. This is why my husband and I are planning to relocate to a new country where our son can feel more comfortable and at peace with himself. 

5. ā€œHer Defect Doesnā€™t Make Me Love Her Any Lessā€ ā€” Aisha*, 48 

My third child was born with a congenital eye defect, and she barely has any working vision. This is something that continues to break my heart because I just feel like itā€™s unfair that her siblings didnā€™t have any defects, but she does. Still, I do not love her any less. She is my daughter, and Iā€™m very happy that I  take care of her and make the world livable for her. Itā€™s frustrating to exist in a country where people with disabilities are seen as cursed. Iā€™ve never subscribed to that belief, so I let their comments roll off my back easily. 

Although she experiences life differently from people with sight, my daughter leads a normal life. She goes to school, interacts with people who see her beyond her blindness, uses her devices comfortably, and still tries to see the beauty of life. There are times when she gets frustrated by her inability to see what other people can easily see, and I donā€™t blame her for that, but still, she is happy, and that makes me happy too.  

6. ā€œThe Money That Goes Into Caring for a Child With Down Syndrome is Not Smallā€ ā€” Tumi*, 3

Our son has Down Syndrome, and it has been a rollercoaster raising him. Having him made my husband and me realise that we cannot just be 50% in. We have to be there for our child in every way he requires us to. And that can be financially and mentally exhausting. I donā€™t mind because I was already aware of his condition before his birth, and I knew the sacrifices I would need to make, but I would advise anyone who canā€™t make that dedication to terminate if they can. 

The money that goes into caring for a child with Down Syndrome is not small. There are countless physical therapy, speech therapy, and other appointments with the doctor that just take and take from you. You even have to care for this child while keeping in mind that they could develop a heart defect anytime, and you have to be mentally prepared for the way people look at your child, like theyā€™re some alien wandering the streets of Lagos. If you donā€™t have the right armour, you are going to fumble, and it would affect your relationship with your child.

Having my child has made me realise that people really need to be gentle and careful with the way they care for their child. There have been many times Iā€™ve looked at him and asked myself whether I really made a good decision in bringing him into this world despite the risks. There have also been times when I cursed myself for doing this to myself, but I never let that show when Iā€™m taking care of him. Down Syndrome babies are humans who also deserve to be loved by their parents, and I hope that I live long enough to keep loving him.

7. ā€œHe is Losing So Many Opportunities in Life Because of His Deafnessā€ ā€” Atinuke*, 59

I have twin boys, and one of them, Taiwo, is deaf. Taiwo is almost 30, and he has cut his dad and me from his life. I donā€™t blame him because of the way we mishandled his deafness. We knew he was deaf, and instead of helping him out like we were supposed to, we just dropped him off at his grandpaā€™s and expected him to figure life out. We didnā€™t want to claim a child who was deaf. It felt like a stain on our reputation, and we didnā€™t actually have the money to care for him. 

While he was at his grandpaā€™s, Taiwo apparently found a way to communicate. He couldnā€™t use the actual sign language because he didnā€™t go to school, but I learned that his cousins and the friends he made at his grandpaā€™s found a way to communicate with him, despite his deafness and muteness. On the weekends, when we visited him, he would try to communicate with us, and while I didnā€™t care too much about him then,Ā  I feel so much guilt now because I didnā€™t even try to bridge that communication gap or make life easier for him.Ā 

From what his twin tells me, Taiwo is losing so many opportunities in life because of his deafness. It makes me angry at myself because I believe that I could have been a better mother who did not turn her back on her child because of who he was. 

8. ā€œIt Was a Good Thing I Decided Not to Give Birth After Herā€ ā€” Mayo*, 40 

My daughter has low-functioning autism, and even though she is currently 18, she has the mind of a 3-year-old. It has not been very easy caring for her, and it was a good thing that I decided not to give birth after her. Because she needs all the attention she can get, I have devoted my best years to caring for her. My husband didnā€™t have to make such sacrifices because right from her childhood, he has refused to acknowledge that she is different from other kids. 

My daughter is mostly nonverbal, and it can get frustrating when Iā€™m trying to communicate with her and get no response. But the moment I leave the house to run errands, she throws the biggest tantrum. Sometimes, she would even rage-scream and act physically violent towards me. I work from home because of her, but she barely even lets me finish my deliverables on time, and while my boss is very much aware of my situation, it is still very frustrating.  I know that I could just spare myself the stress and get her into a high-end autism program that could provide her with the right support, but with the way she behaves sometimes, Iā€™m scared of her being away from home. 

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1. The VAPP Act (Violence Against Persons Prohibition Act), 2015

The first federal law to ban female genital mutilation (FGM), it broadened the legal definition of rape to better reflect women’s experiences and to cover tactics male offenders use, and Section 46 established a formal legal definition of sexual harassment women can cite when reporting.

2. The Child Rights Act, 2003

This act prohibits child marriage and betrothal and defines anyone under 18 as a child who cannot legally consent to marriage.

3. Ukeje v Ukeje, 2014

The Supreme Court ruled that Igbo custom cannot prevent a daughter from inheriting her father’s estate, relying on Section 42 of the Constitution, which prohibits discrimination by sex, ethnicity, religion, or circumstances of birth.

4. Anekwe v Nweke, 2014

Decided the same day as Ukeje v Ukeje, the court held that a widow cannot be denied inheritance for failing to bear a son.

5. Rivers State Inheritance Law, 2022

This law converted the Ukeje v Ukeje ruling into state legislation, giving women in Rivers State a written law to rely on rather than only a court precedent.

6. Married Women’s Property Act (MWPA), 1882

Allows a married woman to acquire, own, and sell property in her own right, with no automatic claim by her husband over property she owns separately.

7. Matrimonial Causes Act (MCA) Section 70, 2004

This act allows a wife to claim financial maintenance from her husband while still married, during divorce proceedings, or after separation.

8. Labour Act Section 54, 2004

Entitles women to 12 weeks of maternity leave, with at least six weeks taken after delivery, and at least 50 per cent pay for those who have worked six months or more.

9. Labour Act Maternity Protection Clause, 2004

The clause prevents employers from dismissing a woman or serving her termination notice while she is on maternity leave.

10. Section 72 of the Matrimonial Causes Act (MCA), 2004

This act allows a wife to ask the court for a fair share of property after divorce, taking her tangible contributions into account.

What She Said will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way. 

Today’s #WhatSheSaid is a little different. We spoke to two women who donated eggs at the same private clinic in Lagos. Yasmine* (27) is mixed race and light-skinned, and Kemi* (30) is fully Nigerian. Though it was the same procedure and the same hospital, they had two completely different experiences in pay, care, pain, and in what the clinic decided each of their bodies deserved to feel.

Can you tell me about your life before the egg donation? 

Yasmine: This was around 2023. I was about 24-years-old, living with my best friend somewhere past Sangotedo in Lagos. We could barely afford it, but we were making do. I had a job in Lekki that paid me 50k and expected me to come in every day, so it was very temporary. My parents did not care. They felt like, okay, you’ve finished university, time to stand on your own. For context, I did not come from a poor family. We have always been comfortable, so this felt unfair to me, and I was resentful. I know some people will call me ungrateful. It is what it is. Anyways, this meant more often than not, I didn’t have much. Of course, I had a few other friends who pulled me into modelling gigs here and there, but those were not sustainable and modelling never really interested me. 

My roommate had a job that didn’t pay much, but it was enough to keep us afloat, and she also had people she was seeing who helped fund our lifestyle and survival. I was dating someone too, who helped out often. I was taking courses, trying to find better jobs, just trying to figure myself out while surviving in an economy that was not making it easy.

Kemi: Mine happened in 2021, I believe? Or early 2022. I had just lost my job, and your girl was really going through it. I had been there nearly four years; I was due for a promotion. But my superior was making advances, and I couldn’t keep putting myself in a compromising position. I knew if I said anything, nobody would believe me, so I left. My family comes from very little, and I was the one sending money home. My mother was sick at the time, and I needed to keep those transfers going, and I couldn’t anymore. Still, I couldnā€™t stay at the job. It had gotten to a point where I could genuinely see him raping me. 

So, I needed a significant amount of money quickly, and egg donation felt like the most viable option. I spoke to people from my university and people I trusted from my former office who had been through it. I asked a lot of questions before I went anywhere.

Had you thought about egg donation before? What were your feelings going in?

Yasmine: I had strong feelings that were mostly less than positive ones. I’ve always been the type to say that if I got accidentally pregnant, I could never abort. I judge absolutely nobody who does. Genuinely, if you cannot keep it, please do what you have to do and don’t let anyone make you feel a type of way. But for me, it always felt like I couldn’t, and egg donation felt similar. I used to think it was like giving a part of yourself away. It was like giving a child away almost. I know it’s not the same thing, but that’s how it sat with me.

I think part of it comes from the fact that my parents were absent in a lot of ways when I was growing up. So I take the found family I have very seriously: my siblings, my close friends, the people who really show up. The idea of giving something away that could become a life just felt heavy. That’s where I was.

Kemi: I have never had any strong thoughts or opinions about it. I have always known that in this life you must hustle to survive, and I have never judged another womanā€™s hustle. I needed the money. That was the main thing. The fact that I was helping a couple have a baby was a good thought alongside it, but the financial need was the driver. I had done my research, I had asked around, I went in with my eyes open.

How did you find the clinic and what was that first conversation like?

Yasmine: My best friend and housemate was already in conversation with them. They had reached out to her, and she was going to speak to the doctor about donating. She asked me to come for moral support; I was just there for her, that was the plan. But when we arrived, they were so warm, so open, so patient. Any question you had, they answered fully; nothing was rushed. And somewhere in that conversation, they started talking to me too, encouraging me to consider it. They said just come for a scan first, just see. So we both had a transvaginal ultrasound right there, and everything checked out. By the end of that visit, I was in.

Kemi: Through a friend. She told me the clinic was offering more than others I had heard about. Most places were paying less, and these ones were offering one hundred and seventy thousand naira. I was going to be able to send seventy thousand home and keep the rest. That felt like a lifeline. She also mentioned that she had gone through the process and it wasnā€™t bad. That they were better than other hospitals she had tried. The conversation with the doctors was straightforward. I asked what I needed to ask, they told me the full process, and I said yes. 

Yasmine, what happened to feeling like it was giving a part of yourself away? 

I had that thought mostly during my teenage years and very early twenties. At this time, I had been through enough that I was a bit, should I say, swayable? And I was with my friend who I had done everything with. My friend who has always been there for me. I felt comfortable. They told me I would be helping a couple who had been trying really, really hard to have kids and that the ā€˜eggs are there, I am not using them anywayā€™. I thought really hard, and what mostly sold it was clinging to what I know was the manipulative point that I would be helping a couple out; I was on the precipice of deciding to be child-free and the money. I really needed the money. 

Kemi, did you have second thoughts at any point? No worries about where your eggs would end up?

Genuinely, no. I really didnā€™t care. That wasnā€™t my thought process at all. I was thinking about the money at the end and the pain I was enduring for it. I was thinking, ā€œItā€™ll all be worth it in the endā€. You will not understand. I have seen suffering in this life. This was nothing. 

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When they told you what you’d be paid, what was your reaction?

Yasmine: They said full Nigerians get paid one hundred and seventy thousand naira. While mixed-race and white donors get four hundred and fifty thousand. Some people have negotiated more. When I asked why, they said, you know, mixed-race and white eggs are rare here. If you go there, black eggs will be more expensive.

I hate discrimination of any and every kind. I see the privilege that comes with looking the way I look in Nigeria, and it is something I am very conscious of. So this disgusted me. It irritated me to my bones. But I also had nothing. No money, no job. And they were offering me almost three times what they were offering fully Nigerian women for the same procedure on the same body. So as much as it annoyed me, I took what was being offered. I needed it.

Kemi: They told me one hundred and seventy thousand, and I said okay. They were offering more than most other places I had heard about, so it felt like the right choice. I didn’t ask many questions about the number. I just needed it to work.

Walk me through the process. 

Yasmine: So after the transvaginal ultrasound confirmed everything was fine with my follicles, they explained what the next two weeks would look like. The stimulation phase is basically you injecting yourself daily with hormones that tell your ovaries to produce more eggs than they naturally would in a cycle. Normally your body matures one egg per month. The injections push your ovaries to mature multiple eggs at once, which is what makes retrieval possible and also why you feel so rough by the end of it.

They gave us a Gonal-F pen each; it looks exactly like an EpiPen. You click a tiny disposable needle tip onto the end, dial the dose, inject it into the fatty part of your belly, and remove and throw the tip away after. That’s it. They also gave us a tracker sheet to log each injection so we wouldn’t lose count or miss a day. We only needed to come back to the clinic after five to seven days for monitoring appointments, transvaginal ultrasounds to check how the follicles were developing, and to adjust the dosage if needed. They covered transportation to and from those visits.

For most of the two weeks, I barely felt the injections. The needle is genuinely tiny. I remember the first time being absolutely terrified, looking at it from every angle, and then I put it in and thought, oh. That was nothing. I was alternating sides of my belly each day so it never got too sore in one spot. I had maybe two or three clinic visits the entire stimulation phase. It was very manageable for most of it.

Then about thirty-six hours before retrieval, they give you what they call a trigger shot, an hCG injection that tells your body the eggs are ready and triggers the final maturation. That’s when the real discomfort kicks in because your ovaries are now full and heavy with multiple mature follicles. After that, it’s just waiting for retrieval day.

Kemi: Mine was nothing like that. I had to go into the clinic every single day for the full two weeks, and getting there wasn’t cheap. I was calculating transport costs against what I had saved and what I could still afford to lose before the payment came through. It was tight, but I made it work because I had no choice.

The injections were done by the nurses, not by me at home. It was regular needles, the kind they use to draw blood or give you a drip. Definitely much bigger than what Yasmine is describing. They were painful, not unbearable but consistently uncomfortable, and that felt unnecessary, but it’s needles, so of course. And the nurses were efficient, fast and got it done. But the coldness is what I remember most. Nobody was outwardly rude, but I could feel it: that energy of I don’t particularly want you here; let me just get through this. It was like I was a task to complete rather than a person to treat. You could feel it in the room among the other women too. We were all just moving through the same thing together, quietly, with the same indifference pointed at all of us. Nobody checked in, nobody asked how you were doing beyond the clinical minimum. You came, you got your injection, you left.

What happened physically as retrieval day got closer?

Yasmine: The last three or four days were rough. My belly was already sore from the repeated injections, and the bloating or what felt like it, was 10 times worse. It wasn’t normal bloating; it was like my stomach was on fire from the inside and heavy. I could barely walk properly. Any bump in the car, any sudden movement was agony. I couldn’t bend. I felt constantly like I wanted to vomit. I called the doctor, and she answered, talked me through it, reassured me it was normal and that it would be over soon. That helped.

Kemi: I had all the same symptoms, but I didnā€™t call anyone. I just handled it and went about looking for money still. I did call my friend because this was the first time I had gone through this. I needed to be sure the pain was normal. It was deeply uncomfortable. By retrieval day, you are already at your worst. Your body is in so much pain, you’re bloated in a way that makes every movement difficult, and you can barely think straight. You just want it to be over.

Tell me about the retrieval itself.

Yasmine: I lay almost upside down, my knees bent and ankles strapped down to the bed, uncomfortably wide open, and they asked the standard questions: do you drink, do you smoke, do you do hard drugs, and while they were talking they injected the cannula they had put in earlier with I guess anaesthesia because I was just gone. I don’t remember anything from the procedure itself. Thereā€™s some foggy memory of feeling like something was being pulled out of me, but itā€™s barely there. 

I woke up to discomfort and real pain. It was difficult to walk; there was a deep, sharp pain in my belly. My friend was there, and she helped me get ready to leave. They had given me painkillers while I was still under, so I woke up to the tail end of that wearing off. But the procedure itself, I mostly felt nothing. I was completely under.

Kemi: Before they even started, the nurse tried to put the cannula in my hand, and she missed. Over and over again. Kept stabbing the same hand trying to find the vein. I was already in so much discomfort and now this. By the time she got it in, I was exhausted before the procedure had even begun.

Then I was supposed to be sedated, but I am guessing they didnā€™t use as much as they should have, or I just needed more because I was lying there and I was aware. I could talk, and I could feel everything that was happening to me, but I couldnā€™t move or I was too sluggish to move. 

I saw the big needle before it went in. I felt it go in. I felt them working, pulling, the entire thing. Even when they were cleaning me beforehand, it was so rough, like sandpaper. But the worst was the needle and the extraction, over and over, each time they went back in for another egg. It was so painful. I kept saying so. I kept telling them it was hurting, that I could feel it, that they needed to stop.

They didn’t stop until they were done.

What were they saying back to you while you were telling them to stop?

Yasmine: I was unconscious. I didn’t know anything was wrong until much later.

Kemi: Nothing. They just kept going.

If youā€™d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid,  

When did it become clear that your experiences had been different?

Yasmine: When you reached out, and we started talking. From the pricing, I already knew something wasn’t right. There was also something else: they mentioned that if you refer a surrogate to the clinic, you get two thousand dollars. That was already strange to me. But when you described what happened to Kemi during retrieval, that’s when I understood that we hadn’t just been paid differently. We had been treated differently in the most fundamental way possible. What happened to her during that retrieval should not have happened to anyone.

Kemi: I’m the type of person who talks to people. Even in that recovery room, there was a woman who was alone and clearly uncomfortable, and I just offered to help. We started talking the way you do when you’re both in a situation like that. And I asked her what she was receiving. That was the first time I heard a number that wasn’t my number. She told me, and I just thought, oh. Oh.

I’ve spoken to others since. Fully Nigerian women who went through the same clinic and mixed-race women who did as well. The experience is consistent. The coldness, the daily visits and the retrieval for full Nigerians and mostly warmth, tiny needles and Gonal-F pens they get to take home for days for the mixed-race women. 

What do you want someone reading this to do with it?

Yasmine: I want them to understand that this isn’t abstract. This is a clinic in Lagos making decisions about how much pain a woman’s body deserves to feel based on how she looks. It is happening right now, and the fact that I benefited from it makes me sick.

Kemi: I’m just telling you what’s going down. I thought it was important that someone know. This is what’s happening. Now you know.

Have you considered reporting this to the authorities?

Kemi: What exactly am I reporting? That I consented to a procedure that was performed on me? If it’s the retrieval process, some other mixed-race women have mentioned feeling some of it as well. I think everybody’s body just responds differently to it, and that is probably what they will say. I have no case. Besides, they tell you everything before you start. No one lies or takes your choice away.

Jasmine: No, I haven’t. I also do not think this will be taken seriously. And truthfully, a part of me is scared.

The  is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria. Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together. .

Because they work behind the scenes, technical writers rarely get the recognition they deserve. As a result, technical writing remains one of the tech industryā€™s most underrated but rewarding career paths.

In a recent conversation with Ā鶹ŹÓʵ, Cynthia Peters, a senior technical writer with eight years of experience, shared a practical guide to breaking into technical writing.

1. What a Technical Writer Does

Cynthia describes technical writers as people who make things easier for everybody else. Imagine contacting your bank with a problem and being directed to a help article. You then discover that everything is written in Korean. The information technically exists, but it is useless because the intended audience cannot understand it. Good technical writing is not simply about documenting information; it is about making that information useful and accessible to the average user. 

2. If the Company Uses a Computer, Thereā€™s a Good Chance That It Needs You.

Career opportunities for technical writers extend far beyond software companies. Any organisation that relies on complex processes needs a technical writer. Even if they have not realised it yet. Cynthia mentions that earlier this year, she received a job listing from a biscuit company. The role required her to document how its production machines are operated. Later in the year, an airline company in Qatar was in search of a technical writer. Technical writers are also needed in fields like medicine and engineering. ā€œIf a company uses IT,ā€ she says, ā€œthereā€™s a chance they need a technical writer.ā€

3. AI Isnā€™t Stealing Your Job

One of the biggest misconceptions about technical writing is that artificial intelligence is replacing technical writers. But AI at its current stage of development can only work as a tool, just like your laptop or your Grammarly subscription. 

Yes, ChatGPT can write an API guide by reading software architecture documents. But it will not think of including a customer support contact for a user who cannot generate an API code. This is because it does not have user empathy in the way that human writers do. Technical writers think about where users could get confused and answer questions before they ask them. 

4. You Do Not Need an Engineering DegreeĀ 

For aspiring technical writers without a technical background, Cynthia advises focusing on gaining experience before chasing high salaries. She recommends starting with beginner programming books or even programming resources designed for children. Technical writers do not need to become expert software engineers.  However, they should understand enough technical concepts to communicate with the product developers. To sum up her experience, she says, ā€œWhen I see a line of code, I might not know if it solves World War II, but I can tell when itā€™s repeating a command, and I know what a variable is.ā€

Her preferred learning method is simple but effective. Read a chapter from a beginner programming book, then close the material and write an article explaining what you remember. When you revisit that article youā€™ll notice the concepts you misunderstood or the questions you failed to ask. Cynthia encourages beginners to publish these articles on personal blogs or to create a portfolio. She stressed that building a portfolio matters far more than waiting until you feel like an expert.

5. Curiosity Killed the Cat, Not the Technical WriterĀ 

The cheat code to becoming a good technical writer is to be curious about everything. After eight years in the industry, Cynthia has a digital file that she constantly updates with terms she needs to research. 

To keep improving, she advises focusing on improving three to five skills per week. Resources like the Google Technical Writing Course and the Microsoft Writing Style Guide will be useful to a beginner. Aspiring technical writers can also take advantage of free educational content from schools of technology. MIT and Harvard regularly upload learning resources online.

6. Transitioning isnā€™t Linear

Although she started her career in programming, Cynthiaā€™s transition into technical writing happened almost by accident. She noticed that many of the questions she had as a newcomer to tech went unanswered. So, she began documenting what she learned. Soon, she became the de facto person for documentation.  By the end of her first few jobs, she was doing more technical writing than programming. Transitioning into technical writing isnā€™t always linear, and thereā€™s no one-size-fits-all.

To determine if you want to commit, she recommends volunteering for open-source communities, startups or big companies looking for interns or junior technical writers. Her advice to anyone considering the field is very straightforward: ā€˜Just start writing. ā€™ Consistent practice, curiosity and a willingness to learn will eventually create opportunities.

Next Read: What She Said: My Dad Spent My Mumā€™s Pension. Now Iā€™m Stranded in Canada

Iā€™m an actor and had featured in several stage plays in church, so after the meeting, he walked up, introduced himself, and told me he was a fan of my work and had been following me on Instagram. I just thanked him and thought nothing much of it.

The next time we saw each other at church, I asked him to take a picture of me. It might look like I was plotting something, but he just happened to be the only person around when I wanted one taken. Later, I asked if he was heading in my direction, and he said yes, so he gave me a ride home. Thatā€™s when we realised we actually lived close to each other. From then on, he started picking me up and dropping me off after every service. Over time, we became friends, exchanged contact details, grew closer, and, well, as the saying goes, the rest is history.

Before I met Michael, I had been intentionally single for about two years and wasnā€™t looking for a relationship at all, but he proved to be consistent in a way most people weren’t, and I could be myself around him without feeling like I had to perform or pretend. We shared the same values and wanted similar things out of life, and our friendship developed so naturally that choosing him just felt right. Michael was exactly what Iā€™d prayed to God for in a partner. 

We dated for ten months before he proposed, and we got married six months after that. 

Finding Out I Was Pregnant

One could say I found out I was pregnant almost by accident. I wasnā€™t feeling too well, and to be honest, I thought it was malaria. Due to my medical history, pregnancy wasnā€™t even on my mind, but I took a test just so I could rule it out and actually find out what was going on. But then two lines appeared on the strip, and my mind went blank. 

Completely stunned, I walked, or maybe ran, out of the bathroom into the living room, where Michael was. Tears were already streaming down my face because for us, this was a miracle we had been trusting God for. I couldnā€™t even get the words out, so I just handed him the test strip and ran off. 

He ran into our bedroom and wrapped me in the longest hug, and then he started crying too, so at that point, it had turned into a crying competition. While he was still holding me, he started thanking God and praying over both our baby and us. His response didnā€™t surprise me at all, and I mean that in the best way, because Michael has always been deeply rooted in his faith, so seeing him immediately thank God and pray over us was just the most natural response for him. 

What touched and warmed my heart was seeing how emotional he got. The way he thanked God with so much sincerity reminded me that this wasnā€™t just my answered prayer. It was ours. 

The Months That Followed 

Michael was so protective of me during my pregnancy. He made sure to look out for my peace, my mental well-being, my health, and every part of me. 

I remember the day I lost a friend, and another friend called to break the news to me. It was Michael who immediately stepped in, took the phone, spoke with her, and made sure devastating news like that didnā€™t reach me again. He wasnā€™t trying to hide anything from me. He just understood how emotionally overwhelming something like that could be while I was pregnant, and that moment has stayed with me ever since.

That same care showed up in so many other ways. He took responsibility for preparing for our babyā€™s arrival, and I didnā€™t have to shop for a single thing because he handled it all himself, right down to my own postpartum essentials. He attended my antenatal classes with me, and having him by my side made me feel deeply supported.

I could barely cook while I was pregnant because the smell of almost every meal made me nauseous. Michael wasnā€™t much of a cook back then, but that never stopped him from trying. To me, it didnā€™t really matter whether the food turned out perfectly. What meant the most was the love and effort he put into every meal. He called his sister for recipes, watched YouTube tutorials, and did whatever it took to make sure I never went hungry.

On the days my body was against me, he was there. He gave me foot rubs and massages almost every night, especially on the days my body felt heavy or sore. There were times I didnā€™t feel as confident as I used to, and he never let me stay in that headspace for too long. He always reminded me I was beautiful and that what my body was doing was incredible. On the days I didnā€™t have the strength to go to the salon, heā€™d arrange for my hairstylist to come to the house instead.

He even downloaded the same pregnancy app I was using, and Iā€™d often find him reading about our babyā€™s development and learning how to better care for me at each stage. Around the house, he took over. He cooked, cleaned, and ran errands without complaining or making me feel guilty about it. 

Pregnancy hormones are no joke, and there were times I didnā€™t even know what was wrong with me, let alone how to explain it to him. Somehow, he learned to read me. He gave me space when I needed it and held me or simply sat with me when I needed comfort instead. He was so patient with me throughout that entire season, and he never once made me feel like I was too much.

If you ask me whether there was a single hard day when he had to swoop in and fix everything, I honestly canā€™t think of one, because that wasnā€™t the kind of support he gave me. He didnā€™t only show up when things got difficult. He showed up every single day, in big ways and small ones, and thatā€™s what Iā€™ll always remember.

The Day We Met Our Son

I had a scheduled C-section because our son was quite big. He was born weighing 4.3 kilograms, and with the pregnancy-induced hypertension and gestational diabetes, it was the safest option for both of us. We already knew the hospital didn’t allow partners into the theatre, but that didn’t stop Michael from trying anyway. He pleaded with the surgeon himself, hoping heā€™d be an exception, and even after being told no, he didnā€™t give up.

My surgery was scheduled for 3 p.m., and up until I was called into the receiving room, I had been excited to finally meet our son and put all the discomforts of pregnancy behind me. But the moment I was wheeled into that room, fear suddenly overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears and asked to see Michael. 

He came in immediately and started praying over me, wiping my tears between prayers and reassuring me that everything would be okay, and his calmness helped assuage my fears. When he saw me being prepared for surgery, I could tell he was worried too, and since he couldn’t come into the theatre, he literally knelt and begged the nurses to let him stay in the receiving room so he could be as close to me as possible. When they realised that he was not going anywhere, they eventually agreed.

While I was still lying on the operating table, one of the nurses came in laughing and told me my husband was worrying himself sick outside, trying to get in by all means. The joy that filled my heart was the last thing I remembered before going into deep sleep. When I woke up hours later, they told me Michael had eventually wormed his way into the theatre in the end.

What It Taught Me

Looking back, Michaelā€™s actions during my pregnancy taught me that love is best expressed through consistency. Heā€™s thoughtful and dependable, and he didnā€™t just show up for the exciting milestones. He also showed up every single day in the ordinary moments, too. That period revealed a side of him that made me respect him even more. It confirmed that I had chosen a man who serves his family out of love, not obligation.

It also strengthened our friendship and deepened the trust between us. We learned how to lean on each other in a completely new way, becoming more intentional about communicating, supporting one another, and facing every challenge as a team.

More than anything, I want our son to know that he was loved long before he was born. I want him to know that his dad didnā€™t just love him. He loved me well while I was carrying him. He protected my peace, cared for my health, celebrated every milestone, and made sure I never felt alone.

If I could thank Michael for one thing from that season, it would be for making pregnancy feel like our journey instead of mine. Every appointment, every milestone, every uncomfortable day, and every joyful moment, he was there. That unwavering presence is one of the greatest gifts heā€™s ever given me, and itā€™s something Iā€™ll never forget.

°Õ³ó±šĢżĀ is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.Ā Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.Ā .

In this article, we spoke to 10 Nigerian women living with the condition about what the name change means to them and whether they believe it will lead to greater awareness, diagnosis, and care

1. ā€œI Would Be More Excited If There Were More Awarenessā€ ā€” Mercy*, 30 

Iā€™m not on social media like that, so I found out about the name change while I was on a call with my friend, who is a doctor. When she told me about it, I honestly didnā€™t feel any type of way. Yes, Iā€™m glad for the name change, but I think I would be more excited if there were more awareness of the condition. 

I got properly diagnosed five years ago, and I have had to deal with constantly educating people on what it meant. I also had to endure being constantly invalidated by the health professionals because they couldnā€™t simply wrap their minds around it, even though it is their job to do so. 

The name change is great. I have friends with PMOS who donā€™t have cysts, so Iā€™m genuinely happy for them, but I would like to see more awareness being shed on the condition. 

2. ā€œIā€™m Excited About it Because I Donā€™t Have Cystsā€ ā€” Etim*, 28

I work in media, so I actually found out about the name change when my managing editor sent me a link to an article talking about it. I canā€™t lie, Iā€™m excited about it because I donā€™t have cysts. Most of my symptoms stem from the hormonal and metabolic effects of the condition, and I appreciate the fact that this name change might show that PMOS isnā€™t just about fertility, like most male doctors in this country keep saying, so they can trivialise your struggles. 

It affects not just the reproductive systems but also other parts of the body. In my case, that included insulin resistance and excess testosterone levels, and I hope that all the doctors who tried to gaslight me into thinking otherwise are having an inner reflection moment, but thatā€™s if theyā€™re even aware of the name change. We live in Nigeria, after all. 

3. ā€œI Am Glad the Conversation Will Now Shift From Just Fertility ā€ ā€” Banke*, 35

I found out about the name change while I was doomscrolling on Instagram one day, and to be honest, Iā€™m just blank about it. I donā€™t know if thatā€™s because I had to go through different medical professionals before I finally found a gyno that actually listens to me, or if itā€™s because the whole fertility conversation surrounding the condition has never moved me, because of my decision to never bring a child into this world. 

However, I am glad that the conversation will now shift from just fertility and reproduction, and we can start discussing other areas of our health that PMOS has affected. 

4. ā€œI Almost Gave Up on Not Getting Diagnosedā€ ā€” Mary*, 25 

I was on Twitter when I read about the name change. At first, I thought they were lying, but I googled and found out it was real. I remember calling my friend to talk about it, and I burst into tears. The number of times Iā€™ve been misdiagnosed by doctors, simply because I didnā€™t have cysts, almost made me give up on getting diagnosed. 

This condition has severely affected my physical and mental health, and yet, it was when I was visiting my family in an entirely different country that I was able to get a diagnosis from a kind gyno who made me feel validated in a way no one back home had made me feel. I canā€™t fully describe how happy I am with the name change, because it means that people with this condition can now get properly diagnosed instead of being carelessly dismissed, like I was.

5. ā€œBecause I Didnā€™t Have Cysts, Hardly Anyone Paid Attentionā€ ā€” Kiki*, 28

I got the information about the name change on a group chat with other women who also have PMOS, and I remember thinking ā€˜f¾±²Ō²¹±ō±ō²āā€™. When I got diagnosed two years ago, it was only because I finally had cysts. I should have been diagnosed years before that, because I was already having symptoms that were directly linked to PMOS, but because I didnā€™t have cysts, hardly anyone paid attention to me. 

They told me it wasnā€™t a big issue, and Iā€™m sure several health professionals probably still detest me because of how I made them uncomfortable after they made the entire conversation about cysts. The name change really made me emotional, because what if I never got cysts? Everyone would have been comfortable misdiagnosing me because of that? 

6. ā€œFor Years, it Felt Like I Was Crazyā€ ā€” Anita*, 38

No one is happier than I am over this name change. I found out about it when my gyno texted me because she was happy that more research would be done on the condition. I still canā€™t stop thinking about the relief that washed over me when I read more about the name change, because for years, it felt like I was crazy. 

Iā€™ve never had polycystic ovaries, but my insulin resistance is severe in a way that is quite concerning. So, before I met my current gyno, health professionals loved to pass me around because they didnā€™t really know what to do with me, since I didnā€™t have the textbook symptoms that they were used to. This is why Iā€™m so giddy about the name change: more research will be done, and people can know more and be more aware. 

7. ā€œI Wish Our Doctors Were Better Informedā€ ā€” Daniella*, 24

Honestly, I am happy the name change is getting the right attention,even though my doctor was not aware of the news, and I had to be the one to inform her about something she should know. 

I think thatā€™s why Iā€™m 50-50 about it all, because yes, more attention is given to the other symptoms of the condition, but when will funding start going into treatments and research? Research on the female body barely exists, and it is getting tiring. I wish our bodies were given more attention, and I wish our doctors were better informed. I shouldnā€™t have to be the one telling my doctor. She should know. 

8. ā€œThey Would Only Look Into My Matter if I Lost Weightā€ ā€” Binta*, 42

I got the news about the name change from my husband, who is aware of my diagnosis, and really, I canā€™t express how happy I am about this. Even though Iā€™d been struggling with my symptoms since I was a young girl, I didnā€™t get my official diagnosis until my early 30s and even then, I was still invalidated by health professionals. 

Everyone kept blaming my weight, and kept telling me they would only look into my matter when I finally lost the weight. I thank God for my husband, who found a good endocrinologist who actually listened to me and let me know all about insulin resistance and how it is connected to the condition. She made me feel seen, and it is such a blessing that the name change acknowledges that itā€™s not only about fertility or reproduction. PMOS symptoms are more than that, and Iā€™m just really happy the world is finally waking up. 

9. ā€œThereā€™s a Possibility Women with PMOS Might Still Get Invalidatedā€ ā€” Basiroh*, 25

I only found out the name about two weeks ago because Iā€™ve been on a social media detox. When I saw the announcement from my friend, who sent it to me because she is aware of my condition, I was really glad, but at the same time, it made me wonder whether Nigerian healthcare professionals will be up to date on it. 

It took time for some of them to get used to the previous name and understand it. Who is to say that theyā€™re not going to have a hard time wrapping their heads around this one? Most of them are not even being paid well for the work theyā€™re doing, so there is a huge possibility that women whose symptoms align with PMOS might still get invalidated. Iā€™m hoping that I might be wrong, and women whose symptoms are broader get the treatment they deserve. 

10. ā€œFor Years, I Lived My Life Without a Diagnosisā€ ā€” Rachel*, 23

The day I saw the news on Instagram, I was in class, and I got sent out because of my excited yell. For years, I kept telling doctors that something was wrong with my body. I was convinced that I had PCOS, and because I didnā€™t have cysts, they told me I was thinking too much and that I shouldnā€™t worry. So for years, I lived my life without a diagnosis. I was even starting to think that maybe they were right, and I was reading too much into it, but then the news came out, and it turns out that I was very much right. The doctors just didnā€™t care much. 

It was this news that finally convinced me to reach out to a gyno a friend recommended. Iā€™ve not met her because Iā€™m currently at school in another state, but sheā€™s aware of the name change, and she believes that I can get diagnosed. I am really just happy that I might get my diagnosis after being gaslit for a long time. 

°Õ³ó±šĢżĀ is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.Ā Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.Ā .

What She SaidĀ will give women the mic to speak freely, honestly and openly, without shame, about sex, politics, family, survival, and everything else life throws our way.Ā 

The subject of today’s #WhatSheSaid is Nengi*, a woman in her late forties based in Port Harcourt. She talks about losing her husband suddenly in 2010, enduring a full year of Igbo widowhood rites in silence, and the decade-long legal battle she fought alone to keep everything he built for their children.

Can you tell me about your life before everything changed?

I had a good life, a genuinely full one. I’m Port Harcourt-born and raised; I grew up here, had my first job here, fell in love here. My husband and I met in this city and built everything we had right here. He started in trading, moving goods, grinding, and learning how money moves. From there, he moved into shipping, then real estate, then manufacturing. By the time he died, he had shares in oil and gas, energy, telecoms, and car dealerships. He was very serious about his money in the truest sense of the word. A builder who genuinely enjoyed building. And he loved his family with everything he had: our three children and me.

Our oldest was seven when he died. The middle one was five. Our lastborn had just turned one year old.

How did he die?

He collapsed at an industry dinner. He was seated at the table, laughing at something someone had said, and then he was on the floor. By the time the ambulance came, he was already gone. It was a massive cardiac arrest. He was in his early fifties and had never been seriously ill, so nobody saw it coming, least of all me. We had spoken on the phone that afternoon about something completely ordinary; I can’t even remember what now, and that was the last conversation we ever had. You never think the last ordinary conversation is the last one. You just don’t think that way when life is good, and your husband is healthy, and you have a one-year-old at home. You simply don’t think that way.

Itā€™s worse to stomach the reality and actually say out loud that the worst part wasnā€™t him dying but what came after. 

What do you mean?

There are certain rites a woman must endure after her husband dies. Many cultures have their own; I do not know all of them, but because of what I have endured, I would say marrying into a deeply traditional Igbo family is the worst thing a woman can do to herself, whether she herself is Igbo or not. Especially if thereā€™s nothing in place to preserve her dignity after her husband dies.  

So how did you navigate the mourning process?

I may not be Igbo, but I grew up in Port Harcourt, surrounded by Igbo traditions; I knew what I was marrying into. When you marry an Igbo man of his standing, you understand that certain things come with it. I had seen enough, heard enough. I wasn’t completely unprepared in theory. But theory and reality are very different things.

I made a decision very early. I was going to do everything they asked of me. Everything. Not because I believed in all of it, but because I knew what was at stake. My children. Their inheritance. Their future. The life their father had built for them. I was not going to give anyone a single reason to say I killed him or that I didn’t respect him or his people. Not one reason.

Walk me through what those first days looked like.

They took me to his family compound. That is where the rites happen, not in the city where we lived, but in his hometown, with his people, on their terms. They shaved my head. All of it, completely gone. They put me in a room, and that room became my entire world. I slept on a mat on the bare floor. I couldn’t cook, couldn’t leave, couldn’t do anything for myself. I had to eat from broken plates; I could only wear black clothing. I was given a stick to scratch my own body because I was considered spiritually unclean, like the death had contaminated me.

At dawn and at dusk every single day, I had to wail loudly. It had to be a sustained and demonstrable grief. I was genuinely grieving. I had lost my husband, the man I loved, my protector, the father of my babies. But I also had to perform that grief on a schedule for people who were watching me for any sign of insufficient mourning that they could use against me.

Iā€™m so sorry. 

That was even okay. As painful as it was, it was okay. What wasnā€™t was asking me to prove I had no hand in his death by making me drink the water they used to wash his corpse.

I could not fight or argue. I also did not have my family people with me. I only had his people. They were avidly watching me, like a hawk. Even though every part of me recoiled, I thought of my children, and I did it. 

I drank it. I was not going to let them win because of this. I was not going to give them anything.

Who was watching you most closely during this period?

The Umuada, the daughters of his lineage. It is difficult to explain, if you havenā€™t seen it, but they are powerful. They enforced everything. They were the ones who would inspect you, question you, report back. And his family was watching too. His brother especially.

What She Said: My Dad Spent My Mumā€™s Pension. Now Iā€™m Stranded in Canada

Tell me about the brother.

He had come for me when my husband was alive. He was persistent and ugly about it. I didn’t tell my husband at first because I didn’t want trouble, but eventually I had no choice. He became too bold. My husband believed me immediately because this brother had done the same thing before, to someone else, and it had worked. He was furious. He told me directly, ” Look at me, Nkwuchi(a traditional inheritance practice in some Igbo communities where a widow is permanently integrated into her late husband’s immediate family by marrying his brother or a close male relative) will never happen to you. I will make sure of it.ā€ He said he would put it in writing, get it all properly documented. But he died suddenly, and none of that had been done yet.

So the man who had tried to sleep with me while my husband was alive was now the one at the centre of a plan to inherit me like property after his death.

When did they tell you?

After a full year. I had completed every single mourning rite without complaint. Twenty-eight days of intensive confinement, then sixty more days of semi-seclusion, then the remaining months of public mourning in black clothing, no socialising, no freedom of any kind. A full year.

The Agba Okwo, the liberation ceremony, was supposed to mark the end. My mourning clothes were meant to be burned; I was meant to be given new colourful clothes and declared free. Instead, that is when they told me what they expected next.

I know people will say this is old-fashioned, that modern Igbo families don’t do Nkuchi anymore. But when there is this much money at stake, tradition becomes very convenient, very quickly.

What was your reaction?

I was appalled. I want to use a stronger word, but appalled will do for now. This man, of all men. This specific man. After everything I had endured, after proving myself at every single stage of their process, this was their expectation.

I said no. Clearly and without room for misinterpretation. That was the beginning of a war that lasted over a decade.

What did they do when you refused?

Everything. The question should be what didnā€™t they do. The estate, his accounts, his properties, all of it was locked away from me and my children almost immediately. The first thing they did was move to obtain Letters of Administration over his estate before I could, effectively cutting the children and me out of everything while the courts processed it. His brother, supported by other family members, led the charge. They challenged the validity of our marriage even though we had a traditional ceremony, a white wedding, and a court marriage. He paid my bride price in full. There was nothing to challenge, but they challenged it anyway, which forced us into proving what should have already been obvious.

Then they filed paternity disputes. Claiming my children were not his.

How did you respond to that?

I did not let that go on for long. I pushed for a court-ordered DNA test immediately. The courts processed it, but these things take time in Nigeria. It was months of waiting, chain of custody arguments, every delay they could manufacture. But it came back definitive. They could not disprove the paternity because the children were his, obviously. They could not disprove the marriage because it was documented three different ways. But in Nigeria, being right and being protected are not the same thing. They had money, and they had time, and they were willing to use both.

If youā€™d like to be my next subject on #WhatSheSaid,  

You mentioned being alone. What did that period look like?

I had my own businesses, my own cars, things in my own name. But I did not come from a wealthy family, and what I had was not enough to sustain my children at the level their father had provided for them and fight a legal battle against a very resourceful family simultaneously. And I was isolated in ways that went beyond money. The mourning period had cut me off from the world for a full year, and when I came out, I was already depleted. My friends eventually rallied, but the early period of the legal battle was genuinely lonely.

My family came eventually. My siblings ride hard for me; they always have. But none of them were in Nigeria at the time. It took time for the situation to reach the level where my sister came back first. Then years later, my brother followed. By then things were already deep.

What was the lowest point?

There was a period, a few years into the legal battle, where I genuinely did not know if I was going to win. The courts were slow. The in-laws were filing objection after objection, dragging every stage out deliberately. My lawyers were citing everything available: the constitutional provisions, the Mojekwu v. Mojekwu ruling from 1997, which had already declared customs that denied widows and women inheritance rights to be repugnant to natural justice. The Ukeje v. Ukeje Supreme Court ruling in 2014 added more weight; it reinforced the constitutional argument against discriminatory customary law and helped shift things further in my favour.

The VAPP Act came in 2015. But here is the truth: Rivers State never properly domesticated it. So what it did for me practically, in Port Harcourt, was limited. What actually moved my case was the constitutional argument, the case law that had been building for years, and the fact that some of his most significant assets were in Lagos, where the legal environment had more teeth and where VAPP had actual enforcement. My lawyers were smart enough to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously. We weren’t putting everything in one jurisdiction.

I had three young children, and I was fighting to make sure they could keep their father’s name and their father’s legacy. There were days when I sat in my house and could not see the end of it.

What happened? Did you win?

Strategically and stubbornly. My lawyers were good. Once the 2014 Supreme Court ruling came down and then VAPP in 2015, the legal landscape shifted in my favour. The paternity dispute had already been dismissed years earlier. The marriage validity argument had gone nowhere. What remained was the estate, and by then the courts had enough precedent to move.

I won full access to my husband’s estate. His shipping company, his real estate holdings, his manufacturing interests, his stakes in oil and gas, energy, telecoms. Everything he built. It went to his children where it belonged. I have been managing it.

Where are you now?

Iā€™m still here in Port Harcourt.  I run my businesses, and I run what he built, and I travel when I want to because I have earned every single trip. My two older children started university in Nigeria, and when things finally resolved properly a few years ago, they moved abroad to continue. My youngest is still in secondary school here with me.

It took more than ten years. My children grew up watching me fight. I hope that is not the worst thing I have passed on to them. I also hope it is the reason none of them will ever accept less than they deserve.

What do you want women to know?

That you are allowed to fight. Enduring something is not the same as accepting it. I endured an entire year of rites that stripped me of my dignity because I understood the game I was in. But enduring it never meant I was not going to fight what came after.

Know your rights. Find your documentation. A court marriage matters. A registered will matters. A lawyer who understands both statutory and customary law matters. These are not romantic things to think about when you are happy and in love, but they are the things that protect you when the unthinkable happens.

He told me Nkuchi would never happen to me, and I swear, I believe that he meant it. He just didn’t update the paperwork in time. Don’t let your protection depend entirely on someone else’s intentions, no matter how much they love you. Put it in writing. Make it legal. Make it unbreakable.

I had to spend ten years making it unbreakable after the fact. You deserve not to go through that.

°Õ³ó±šĢżĀ is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.Ā Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.Ā .

Everyone knows about morning sickness and food cravings, but pregnancy can come with plenty of unexpected side effects that no one warns you about. From losing teeth to blurry vision and pregnancy brain, the Nigerian women in this article share the surprising symptoms they experienced while pregnant. 

1. ā€œI Began to Have Awful Bad Breathā€ ā€” Marie*, 35Ā 

It pisses me off when I see women talk about pregnancy being an easy and stress-free experience, because itā€™s absolutely not. My pregnancy was the worst thing to happen to me, and I know everyone might say itā€™s an exaggeration, but itā€™s not. I had bad problems with my teeth while I was pregnant with my daughter. No one told me that one day, you could sleep with two of your molars intact and then wake up without them because they decided to fall out without your permission. And when I thought that was it, because surely, my baby wonā€™t want me to suffer more? My wisdom tooth, which I never thought I had, suddenly made an appearance. I even began to have awful, bad breath, even though I was taking my dental hygiene seriously.  Iā€™m so glad I had my husband with me; otherwise, I would have really done something harmful to myself. I donā€™t see myself having a child again because of the side effects I faced with my daughter. God forbid I do that to myself again. 

2. ā€œMy Brain Had a Hard Time Adding 2 Plus 2ā€ ā€” Amina*, 28Ā 

I thought the term ā€˜Pregnancy Brainā€™ was a myth until I got pregnant, and my brain suddenly had a hard time adding two plus two. Before my pregnancy, I was known for being someone who thinks quickly on her feet and is ready to solve any problem presented to her. No one ever had any hard time explaining things to me because I always understood immediately. 

So, imagine my surprise when I got pregnant, and my words barely started making sense. Stringing words together became a chore, and I had to start taking time before saying anything because there were countless times I said things that didnā€™t make sense. It was so embarrassing because I kept having people correct me at least 3 times during conversations. 

I was so scared that I would get sacked at my place of work, but thankfully, my boss is a woman who commiserated with me over it because sheā€™d also been a victim of pregnancy brain. It was because of her that I tried not to feel so ashamed about what was happening to me. 

3. ā€œHaving Random Bald Patches Really Made Me Angryā€ ā€” Banke*, 25

A major reason why I went from someone who wanted three kids to someone satisfied with just one is that I experienced severe hair loss while I was pregnant with my son. When I was a child, my mum always joked that I was the reason she didnā€™t have hair anymore, and I didn’t fully understand it until my hair started falling out. At first, I was even panicking because I thought that maybe I had a serious health condition, only for me to find out, after digging through every corner of the internet, that it was just the baby that was the cause. 

Iā€™m quite a vain person, so going from a full natural hair that I spent years treating with all oils and leave-in conditioners under the sun to having weird bald patches really made me angry. I love being a mother, but I donā€™t think I can do pregnancy again. I just donā€™t see it happening in my future again. 

4. ā€œI Got Diagnosed with Gestational Diabetesā€ ā€” Shukura*, 45Ā 

I have three children, and I wonā€™t advise anyone to get pregnant unless they really know the risks and still want to do it. With my first and second child, I had low calcium, and it felt like I was going to die because of the countless side effects, like extreme tiredness, that came with it. When I became pregnant with my third child, I really thought it would be the usual low calcium, but then I got diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and then I had to start watching what I ate, and how I ate, and everything became so stressful for me. I was so surprised that I actually gave birth to my third child because the stress that came from having diabetes really had me convinced that I was going to miscarry. 

5. ā€œMy Legs Have Suddenly Become Restless in an Annoying Wayā€ ā€” Lolu*, 24

I am currently 32 weeks pregnant, and while I have been having it easier than some of my friends, my legs have suddenly become restless in a completely annoying way. I could want to sleep at night, and my legs would get this itchy feeling because they want to walk around the house. When I try to ignore it so I can get some actual sleep, I just keep obsessing over it. Before you know it, Iā€™m walking around the house, and in the end, I barely get any sleep. It’s quite frustrating because I didnā€™t know about this before. I knew I would have to make some sacrifices when I decided to have a child, but walking around the house in the middle of the night because my legs are suddenly restless is not much fun. 

6. ā€œMy Nose Grew so Much, I Couldnā€™t Recognise Myselfā€ ā€” Fiyin*, 32Ā 

I am a light-skinned woman, and after I got pregnant, my skin darkened. I didnā€™t know that was a thing. I was completely caught off guard, and I couldnā€™t comprehend why my body would turn on me like that. Coupled with my dark skin, my nose also grew massively, so people always had a hard time recognising me. Even I couldnā€™t recognise myself in the mirror. I hated myself completely, and even though everyone kept assuring me that my body would go back to normal after having my child, I was still so depressed. Throughout my pregnancy, I had at most four pictures of my face. I really hated the woman Iā€™d turned into because of pregnancy. 

7. ā€œI Grew Hair in Places That I Had Never Grown Hair Beforeā€ ā€” Atinuke*, 31Ā 

I was aware that excess hair growth is something that happens to women during pregnancy, but I was still so unprepared when it happened to me. I began to grow hair in places that I had never grown hair before. I grew hair on my face, my belly, and even my nipples, of all places. I didnā€™t know that we could actually grow hair on nipples until that happened to me, and I had to thoroughly educate myself, and I felt so validated when I read other women’s experiences with excess hair growth. 

8. ā€œI Had a Hard Time Reading Because of My Eyesā€ ā€” Dora*, 45

During my pregnancy, I began to have problems with my eyesight. Before my pregnancy, I didnā€™t know what an opticianā€™s clinic looked like. Then I got pregnant with my second child, and suddenly, I had a hard time reading. I would have to squint a lot to see anything. I was so scared because I didnā€™t know what was happening. 

Then I met my doctor, and she was the one who let me know that bad eyesight is common in pregnant women. She assured me that it would go away after I gave birth, and it was just one of the many side effects that came with being pregnant. Throughout my pregnancy, I had to use prescription glasses, and even a month post-partum. I no longer have bad eyesight, but that was a scary time.

9.Ā ā€œMy Hands Became Completely Uselessā€ ā€” Kemi*, 33Ā 

I didnā€™t know what carpal tunnel syndrome was until I got pregnant. I didnā€™t realise how extremely important my hands were until carpal tunnel syndrome happened to me. As if the swelling and the pain that keep me up at night were not enough, my hands became completely useless. I could barely use it to carry anything with weight. Basic things I used to do with my hands, like holding my phone, became so difficult. I had to get my hands braced, and honestly, Iā€™m so glad this went away after I had my child. If it became a permanent side effect, I donā€™t know how I would have handled it. 

10. ā€œI Went From a Size 39 to 42ā€ ā€” Quineth*, 30Ā 

During my pregnancy, my feet basically expanded, and I went from size 39 to 42, and although I was aware that it was a possible side effect, I was still quite annoyed by it. I even thought that once I gave birth to my daughter, my feet would go back to their normal size, but a year after my child, and I am still a size 42, and finding the right pair of shoes in my current size has not been very smooth sailing. 

Motherhood can change more than a womanā€™s life. For many women, it also changes how they view their partners. While some discovered new reasons to love and appreciate their husbands better, others were forced to confront disappointing realities. 

In this article, eight Nigerian women share how motherhood transformed their view of their husbands.

1. ā€œHe was basically the calm to my stormā€ ā€” Aisha*, 30Ā 

Having my son with my husband has made me appreciate him more. Iā€™ve heard a lot of horror stories about husbands being useless and deadbeat while their postpartum wife takes care of the baby all by herself, but it was never like that with my husband. 

He took responsibility for our baby the moment we got back from the hospital. He didnā€™t make me feel alone amid the chaos that came with being a new parent. He carried his weight effectively. No one had to teach him how to bathe our son, change his diapers or feed him from the bottle. He learned by himself, and he was so patient with me, especially when I was dealing with postpartum rage. I would shout and throw things at him, and he would do his best to calm me down without yelling. He even found me a therapist and made sure I didnā€™t miss my appointments. He was basically the calm to my storm. 

He didnā€™t have a present father, but he learned how to be a good father to our child, and that just made me love him more. 

2. ā€œI couldnā€™t open up to him about my postpartum depressionā€ ā€” Derin*, 28Ā 

After we had our daughter, I immediately got on birth control pills. I realised that I would be doing myself a disservice if I had a second child with my husband. Throughout the time I nursed our daughter, he didnā€™t lift a single finger, and that was so funny to me because he was the one who kept begging me to have a child a year into our marriage, even though I wanted us to wait for a long time. He had been so excited when I told him I was pregnant, and Iā€™d foolishly thought that he would be a good father, but I was wrong. 

He barely paid attention to the baby or me. He didnā€™t know when the baby woke up, and he couldnā€™t tell if she was crying from hunger or because her diaper was soiled. When the baby starts crying in the middle of the night, he would literally wake me up and ask me to figure it out. I couldnā€™t even open up to him about my postpartum depression because I was so sure he was going to trivialise my struggles. He knows nothing about my early motherhood journey or anything about his daughter. 

Being a mother has shown me how disappointing my husband can be, and thatā€™s exactly why I wonā€™t be having any children for him again. He keeps asking me if we can try for a second child, and I keep telling him okay while knowing fully well that if my pills fail me, I wonā€™t hesitate to get an abortion. 

3. ā€œThroughout my pregnancy, he treated me like a princessā€ ā€” Nini*, 40Ā 

Before we had our twins, my husband was someone who smoked and drank at least three times a week, but from the moment I told him I was expecting, he discarded both habits. It was not an easy feat because he had been doing that for years, and I never minded because he wasnā€™t necessarily an addict in my eyes, but he wanted to be a good father with a clear mind. He didnā€™t have a good father, but he had a great mother who he learned so much from and it was from her that he learned how important it was for a parent to be present in their childā€™s life. 

Throughout my pregnancy, he treated me like I was a princess, and he always made sure I had access to all my cravings, including the ones that didnā€™t make sense. When we had our babies, he made sure he was there for every single moment with me. Having twins was already hard, so he made sure that the rest of my life was not harder. He took the bulk of the parenting, got a housemaid to help around the house, and he made sure I was not overwhelmed in any way. Because of him, I slept well, ate well, and didnā€™t feel guilty anytime I went for a walk without the babies. I never felt restless from being away from them because I knew they were in safe hands. Having children with my husband has brought us closer together than ever. I am glad he is my husband.Ā 

4. ā€œHe thought that just spending money made a fatherā€ ā€” Mary*, 50Ā 

Motherhood was definitely one of the major reasons why my husband and I divorced after twenty years of marriage. I grew up watching my dad be present in our lives, and it made me think all men were like that. Then I had all my children with my husband and realised how wrong I was. 

Right from the start, when we had our first child, I took on 70% of the parenting. For some reason, he thought that just spending money made a father. How they ate, who their friends were, what was going on with them at school, their injuries, none of them mattered to him. He was not present in their lives, and as time went on, all my children went from desperately seeking attention from their father to not wanting to be in the same room with him. Seeing the way some of my friendsā€™ husbands actively pay attention to their childrenā€™s lives without being told what to do was what made me realise that I couldnā€™t keep being with a man who barely paid attention to my children and me. We are divorced now, and the children and I have never been happier than ever.Ā 

°Õ³ó±šĢżĀ is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.Ā Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.Ā .

5. ā€œIā€™ve never enjoyed motherhood fully because of himā€ ā€” Beatrice*, 35Ā 

Having a child made me realise how inconsiderate my husband was. Before I stepped into motherhood, one could say I was blinded by the love I felt for him. It made me ignore red flags like him not helping out in the kitchen or still wanting me to cook him dinner after a long day at work. A lot of people told me that children change a man, and I thought that having his kid would make him more mature, but alas. 

Unlike me, he refused to create space for our daughter. He continued to act like he was a bachelor while I struggled with the parenting. He would go out, act like he didnā€™t have a family waiting for him, and when he got back, he would expect me to microwave his food, despite knowing I had spent the entire day fighting for my life at work and wrangling our daughter into order after getting home. Iā€™ve never enjoyed motherhood fully because of him, and this has only made me resent him more. Itā€™s this reason why Iā€™ve decided not to have kids with him anymore. Iā€™m not that pressed to have more children to prove a point or anything. Iā€™m okay with my daughter. 

6. ā€œIā€™ve never felt like I was married to a man-childā€ ā€” Rachel*, 28Ā 

Having a child didnā€™t change how I saw my husband. He has always shown kindness and patience to me, and I knew, right down to my bones, that he would express that same kindness and patience to any child I birthed. When we had our first child, he made sure to use his paternity leave fully so he could be there for me anytime I needed him. We already had a housemaid, but he got two more because he didnā€™t want me to feel any discomfort. He knew I wasn’t a big fan of family coming over and stressing out the kid and me, and he made sure to set boundaries with everyone of them. 

When I had a health crisis just a few days before him going back to work, he begged for an extra month just so he could be with me. Our child is turning two soon, and he has made an effort to be constantly present for her. For once, Iā€™ve never felt like I was married to a man-child who made excuses to not take care of his children. With him, itā€™s like a beautiful partnership, and since giving birth to our baby girl, Iā€™ve only felt closer to him. I canā€™t wait to have more children for him. 

7. ā€œI regret the fact that heā€™s their fatherā€ ā€” Ella*, 50Ā 

Having children ruined the balance between my husband and me. They opened my eyes and made me see that I was married to someone who did not show me consideration. I have three kids for him, and not once in his life did he ever take a break from work to spend time with them. He didnā€™t take his paternity leave because he didnā€™t think there was anything he could do to help me. He expected me to be at his beck and call during my postpartum, and I would never forget the time he yelled at me to get out of our bedroom when our first child, who was two months old at the time, started crying her lungs out. It was definitely stupid of me to see the way he treated me when I had our first child and still believed that our other children might ā€œchangeā€ or ā€œturnā€ him into a better father. I do not regret my kids, but I regret the fact that heā€™s their father. 

8. ā€œHe is careful in how he handles our sonā€ ā€” Naomi*, 26Ā 

Motherhood made me appreciate my husband more. He grew up an orphan and had to deal with his emotionally and physically abusive uncle throughout his teenage years, and he was worried about the possibility of turning out like him that he took himself to therapy the moment I announced my pregnancy. 

From the pregnancy through my child’s birth, he did his best to be present. He didnā€™t make raising our child seem like a burden, like Iā€™ve seen most husbands do. He is careful in how he handles our son, and heā€™s constantly learning new ways to care for him. Iā€™m even more in love with him than I was when we got married. I canā€™t wait for my son to grow up so I can better understand their dynamics. I know that heā€™s going to be a good father figure to our son, and I am excited to experience that. 

Next Read: What She Said: My Dad Spent My Mumā€™s Pension. Now Iā€™m Stranded in Canada

One day it’s soft and thriving. The next, it’s dry, tangled, and making wash day feel like a full-time job.

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°Õ³ó±šĢżĀ is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.Ā Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.Ā .

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