Masculine Maternity

In northern Nigeria’s Borno State, Mohammed Bukar used to believe his wife’s diet during pregnancy didn’t need special attention. Cultural norms in his community meant men decided how women cared for children. When humanitarian organisation FHI 360 introduced father‑to‑father support groups, Bukar joined out of curiosity. The group met twice a month to discuss hygiene, early breastfeeding and maternal nutrition. They encouraged men to help with household chores so mothers had more time to rest. The results were remarkable. According to an analysis by FHI 360 and USAID, more than 96 percent of households where fathers participated practised exclusive breastfeeding for the first six months, compared with 57 percent of households without participating fathers. Early breastfeeding initiation, giving colostrum as the first food and timely complementary feeding were all significantly higher in these homes. Fathers who joined the groups also provided extra food during their partner’s pregnanc...

A look at Nigeria’s expanding paternity‑leave policies, highlighting state initiatives and the benefits of giving fathers time off to bond with their newborns and support their partners. The story of my dad: "When our son was born, I was allowed to take only two days off work. I spent those days shuttling between hospital and home, sleep‑deprived and anxious. By the time I returned to my job, my wife was still recovering, and I felt guilty for leaving her alone. Stories like mine are common among Nigerian fathers, but things are changing. Nigeria’s federal government now grants male civil servants 14 days of paternity leave. Fathers who take this leave report feeling happier and more connected to their babies when they return to work. Some states are pushing the envelope further. Abia State has proposed three weeks of paternity leave alongside six months of maternity leave for mothers, while Kogi State recently approved a six‑month paid maternity leave and 14‑day paid paternity le...

What if you walked into a busy antenatal clinic in Lagos and saw men standing side‑by‑side with their pregnant wives — not just carrying wallets and car keys, but clapping along to the songs, waiting patiently for the midwife, taking notes and handing over money for vitamins? A few years ago this would have seemed unusual in Nigeria, where pregnancy has long been treated as a “women’s domain.” Yet on a bright February morning in 2025 at the Alimosho General Hospital, journalist Oluwakemi Adelagun noticed something different: men were there, watching their wives stretch and sing and waiting quietly at the edge of the shed. They weren’t just dropping them off. They were present. A Premium Times investigation published on 14 May 2025 documented this quiet revolution. Men like Chibueze Okoli, a self‑employed father, and Kelvin, an Uber driver, now accompany their wives to antenatal appointments because flexible work schedules and supportive partners make it possible. On ...

Growing up in Nigeria, I was surrounded by cultural norms that made maternity care seem like a woman’s world. From pregnancy to childbirth, men were often considered outsiders, uninvolved in the process except for providing financial support. As I delved deeper into midwifery and personal growth, I realized how much harm these beliefs have caused—not only to women but to families as a whole. Let me share some myths I’ve encountered about men in maternity care and why I, as a man deeply involved in this field, believe they are completely wrong. Myth 1: “Maternity care is a woman’s responsibility.” This was something I believed for years. Society taught me that pregnancy and childbirth were “women’s issues,” and my role was limited to financial provision. What Changed My Mind: As a student midwife, I’ve seen firsthand how important it is for fathers to support their partners during pregnancy. I’ve watched men who attended antenatal appointments and actively participated in care improve t...

In the early morning light, Chuka stood by the window of the small maternity ward in Lagos, Nigeria, watching the sun rise over the bustling city. His wife, Ngozi, was resting after an exhausting night, the soft hum of the hospital monitors accompanying the rhythm of her steady breathing. It was a moment of peace, but Chuka couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he could do. Though he had always been there for Ngozi, his involvement had been largely passive. Now, with the birth of their first child drawing near, he was realizing just how vital it was for him to take a more active role in the entire process of maternity care. The Journey of Awareness in Nigeria In many Nigerian communities, maternity care is seen as a woman’s responsibility, with men often taking a backseat. Cultural norms and long-standing traditions have led to a perception that childbirth and pregnancy are realms best left to women and medical professionals. However, as Chuka stood in the ward, he recognized ...