The Day I Waited To See My Mother
An Emotional 24th Birthday
I didn’t want to wake up.
Today is my 24th birthday, and a part of me feels like I’m done with everything. I’m tired of my
life. I’m tired of my boyfriend. He destroyed my heart and believes he can get away with it just
because he’s drop-dead gorgeous, 6’3”, and a doctor with a smile that could stop any woman’s
heart. But not mine—not anymore.
“Good morning, my baby angel,” my father said as he walked into the room. I rolled my eyes.
“Dad, I’m not a baby anymore. I’m 24.”
“You’ll always be my baby, even if you’re sixty,” he replied with a chuckle. “But let’s forget that
for now. I have to leave for a meeting on the other side of the country, but I’ll be back in time for your birthday, okay, Pookie?”
“Yes, ‘mom-dad,’” I muttered under my breath as his footsteps faded away.
I hated that name. Mom-dad. It all started when I was ten. Everyone at school was told to bring
their mothers dressed as their favorite female character. I was the only one without a mom. I
stood there, watching everyone arrive with their mothers, smiling and happy. But not me.
Just as I was about to cry, my dad burst into the room, wearing the highest heels I’d ever seen, a flowy dress, and a blonde wig. He looked ridiculous, but the crowd loved it. That day, he told
me, “Never feel less because your mom made the ultimate sacrifice for you. She loved you so
much she gave her life so you could survive. Now, she’s not here, but I’m here for you. I’ll love
you enough for both of us. I’ll be your mom and dad—your momdad.”
I barely see him anymore. He’s always busy. Only on special occasions, like today, do I get to
see him, and even then, it’s just for a few minutes.
A call interrupted my thoughts.
“Happy Birthday, my baby girl!” a voice screamed through the phone.
“Shut up, you’re yelling.”
“Of course, I’m yelling! It’s my number one girlie’s birthday!”
“Ugh, cringe. Can you go back to hating me now?”“No, not yet. That’ll be tomorrow,” Aisha teased.
I chuckled. She was still as extra as ever.
“I honestly miss you so much, Aisha. It’s starting to feel claustrophobic in this big house. Why
did you leave me all alone and go to Asia?”
“Sorry, babe. I had to meet my true love, Lee Jun Pyo. But seriously, how much longer are you
going to leave me under this hot Lagos sun?”
My eyes widened. “You mean…”
“Yes, baby girl. My leg is killing me.”
I dashed to the door, flung it open, and leapt into her arms. She smelled like fresh flowers mixed
with soft wood. I squeezed her so tightly I didn’t want to let go.
“Okay, take my bags in and let’s go get that bastard.”
“What do you mean?”
“That doctor who thinks you’re a Rubik’s cube can twist whenever he wants. Let’s go embarrass him at work.”
“No, Aisha, I don’t have the courage.”
“That’s fine. I have the courage for both of us. Your job is just to end things with that
two-timing, good-for-nothing psycho.”
We got into the car, Aisha driving as I sat quietly, the weight of the situation sinking in.
Nostalgia washed over me. I remembered the day I met Femi, during one of my morning jogs.
He was cute, tall, and shy—a doctor with a heart of gold. Who would have known I’d find him
four years later with his legs wide open, moaning as another man… no, I don’t want to think
about it.
“We’re here. Are you ready?” Aisha asked.
“No.” I forced a smile.
“That’s good enough.”
We stepped out of the car and walked into the hospital. Each step felt like a mile, my heart
pounding harder with every footfall. I couldn’t breathe.“I can’t do this, Aisha,” I whispered, panic rising in my chest. Before she could reply, I turned around and ran. I didn’t stop until I reached the first door I could find, pushed it open, and locked myself inside.
But what I saw in that room froze me in place.
There, chained to the bed, was an older woman. Her hair was wild and gray, her clothes tattered.
But her eyes… those eyes. I knew those eyes.
I looked at my reflection in the tinted window behind her. Her eyes were the same as mine.
“Baby doll!” she said with the biggest grin I’d ever seen. She clutched a doll tightly in her hands,
a doll that looked exactly like me—a doll my dad had given me on my tenth birthday that went
missing the next day.
My head spun. Who is she? Why does she have my doll?
Before I could process it all, the world went black.
The Mystery Unraveled
It was a Saturday morning, and as usual, I headed to the gym. I signaled the security guard to
open the gate as I drove out. The gym was quite far from my house, so I needed something to
keep me occupied during the drive. I tuned in to 78.5 FM, and as I listened to a pastor’s sermon, his words hit me hard, as though they were meant just for me: "You may not understand the season or situation of your life, but trust in God, who sees the bigger picture."
Those words settled deep within me, lifting some of the weight I had been carrying. As I took the sharp bend onto Allison Street, I found myself parked outside the fitness center. With a greeting to the receptionist, I walked into the workout area, ready to lose myself in my routine.
Music flooded my ears, pushing me into the rhythm of my workout. I was lost in the flow when I
suddenly felt a light tap on my back. Startled, I quickly reached for my water bottle, trying to
calm my racing heart. Turning around, I was met with the sight of a man, perhaps in his thirties, looking serious and determined.
Before I could ask what he wanted, he spoke. “I know we’ve never met before, and this may
sound strange, but it’s the truth,” he said.
I blinked in confusion, unsure of what to say.
“I know you’ve had many questions about her," he continued. "She’s alive. Your mother is not
dead, despite what you’ve been told all your life.”
I laughed, thinking it was some cruel joke. “It’s not April Fool’s Day,” I said, turning away from
him, but when I glanced back, he hadn’t moved. His expression remained serious, and the gravity of his words hit me. I felt the world around me shift, like a bomb had just been dropped on my reality.
He handed me a business card, his voice soft yet firm. “I’m sorry you’ve been lied to, especially by someone you trusted. Call me when you’re ready to know where she is.”My world spun, a cold rush of disbelief flooding my veins. This couldn’t be real.
The Confrontation
Still dazed, I drove straight to my father’s house to confront him. I needed to know the truth.
When I arrived, I found him in his study. I looked him in the eye and asked, “Is my mother
alive?”
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t defend himself. He just stared back at me, silent.It felt like a dagger had pierced my heart, leaving me bleeding out. The man I had trusted all my
life had betrayed me in the deepest way.
The Meeting
Back at home, I showered and changed into something more comfortable, trying to process
everything. I had no appetite, so I decided to rest. For the first time in a long while, I slept
peacefully—no nightmares, just a blissful escape. Maybe, just maybe, she had longed to see me too.
When I woke up, I reached for my gym bag and found the business card the stranger had given me. The card read, Private Investigator (P.I.) with a number below it. I dialed the number and arranged to meet him at a restaurant by 4 p.m.
I had some time before leaving, so I reheated leftover rice and fried some plantain. It was my
first meal of the day, but my mind was elsewhere.
At the restaurant, I spotted him seated near the window, waving me over. I walked toward him,
dressed in a boubou dress, my black bag slung over my shoulder. I tried to look calm, but my
heart was racing.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Miss Amanda,” he greeted me. “I know this is
tough for you, but it’s all for the best. Would you like anything to eat or drink before we talk?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I replied, eager to get to the point.
“I’m Pius, a private investigator,” he began. “I discovered the truth about your mother when I
was hired by Chief Okafor, your father’s opponent in the governorship race. I thought it was best for you to know before the news got out.”
I nodded, my mind struggling to process everything. “I appreciate your concern,” I said. “But I
need to know where she is.”
He scribbled an address on a piece of paper, handed it to me, and stood up. We shook hands, and I left, feeling like the ground beneath me was shifting.
The Reunion
Sunday came, and after attending church, I made a stop at one of my favorite restaurants for
brunch before heading to the address Pius had given me. Two hours later, I arrived at Divine
Neuropsychiatric Hospital. As I parked, I couldn’t help but wonder—was she working here?
Why didn’t she try to find me all these years?
At the gate, the security guard asked for my reason for visiting. “I’m here to see Mrs. Chidinma
Coker,” I said. He handed me a pass and directed me to the first block for further instructions.
It was a small, private hospital, serene and well-kept, with perfectly trimmed flowers lining the
lawns. The atmosphere was calm, but my heart was anything but.
Inside, I told the receptionist I was here to see Mrs. Coker, and a man led me to her ward.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
She sat in a plain, loose-fitting navy blue dress, her hair disheveled, her face vacant. This was the woman I had waited all my life to meet. My mother.
Our eyes met, but there was no recognition. She looked through me as if I didn’t exist. Tears
welled up in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks.
The nurse gently explained that she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder after my birth, and had been in and out of hospitals ever since. My father had kept her condition a secret, fearing it would ruin his political career.
This wasn’t the reunion I had imagined. My heart ached as the reality of her illness hit me. The
relationship I had longed for could never be. Her love had existed, but in fragments—hidden,
fractured, and unreachable.
Closure
The day I waited to see my mother was the day I realized that love, though real, can be broken. It can exist in the shadows, unseen and unspoken, but it’s still there. That day, I found my mother. And in doing so, I found the closure I never knew I needed.
Co- written by: Praise Towolawi and Eudorah Ekeagwu
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