As a working mother of three children under the age of three, my day starts as early as 5 a.m., and I don’t find rest until much later. After taking care of my family, I dive into my official work hours, although my mind often wanders to my family’s well-being and planning the next meal. When the workday ends, motherhood takes over completely: I listen to endless stories, resolve sibling disagreements, help with homework, and expend whatever little energy I have left. Then the day ends, only to begin again.
Stepping into the life of a mother juggling day jobs reveals a stark contrast between perception and reality. In theory, motherhood is often portrayed as an idealised woman who has mastered the art of balance—a modern-day superwoman who seems to have everything under control. However, in her mind, there exists a beautiful chaos. She faces the challenge of planning meals when inspiration is lacking, managing household chores that never truly end, and caring for children who rely on her for nearly everything. On top of this, she juggles financial responsibilities, pulling her in different directions and official work tasks that await completion.
In the woman’s head, love, duty and exhaustion constantly compete for space. And in Nigeria’s current economic climate, pressure becomes an unavoidable fourth presence.
The daily juggle
In a society where women are often expected to stay at home and cater to their husbands and children, entering the corporate world can feel like an act of rebellion. The struggle is not just about performing well; it’s also about fitting in, being seen, being heard, proving one’s worth, and breaking unspoken norms.
Those subtle and overt reminders reinforce the notion that women are not entirely welcome in the workplace. Then motherhood comes into play, and the struggle becomes even more intense. Pregnancy and childbirth, rather than being recognised as life-altering experiences, are frequently viewed as professional inconveniences. Women often feel that becoming a mother somehow diminishes their value at work. Maternity leave is framed as “time off doing nothing,” and responsibilities are withdrawn not due to incapacity, but because “you’re a mother now.” Sometimes, there are suggestions to transfer to less demanding roles. While these recommendations may be presented as expressions of concern, they often carry an unspoken judgment.
Outside the workplace, the scrutiny continues. Society frequently expresses dissatisfaction with working mothers’ choices. If you enrol your child in a crèche, people question the emotional bond with a child you are accused of barely seeing. If you enrol a two-year-old in school, you are warned about stressing a child who should be at home playing. In either case, guilt persists. Each day, the question arises: Is this worth it? The thought of quitting often looms large, but reality intervenes; bills must be paid, and responsibilities must be met. As a result, working mothers learn to develop thick skin. They brush off snide remarks, overlook subtle hostility, ignore unfair attitudes, and still show up every day with their best effort, despite the challenges they face.
Redefining strength
When life as a working mother of three becomes overwhelming for me, I think of women who lack the privileges I have. I consider single working mothers, those with unsupportive partners, those without family support, and working mothers earning minimal pay. I imagine the heavy burden they carry, the exhaustion they experience, and the quiet tears they shed in private, all while showing up each day ready to conquer their world. They inspire me and give me strength.
Perhaps strength for a working mother isn’t found in perfection or balance, but in consistency. It resides in the quiet discipline of showing up every day, even when fatigue lingers, and appreciation feels scarce. For the Nigerian working mother, strength isn’t loud; it is lived, daily, quietly, and with purpose.
