In Her Shadow: A Daughter’s Journey of Love and Care

2016 will forever be etched in my heart—not because it was easy, but because it was real. After four consecutive years of giving birth (yes, four!), I found myself somewhere between the labor suite and the land of lost identity. My life was a loop of antenatal visits, sleepless nights and diaper duty. I loved being a mother, but let’s just say the motherhood package came with a few surprise add-ons I hadn’t read in the fine print.

Then, like a plot twist in a feel-good movie, opportunity knocked. I was among the three students selected for the university exchange program in Norway as part of our postgraduate studies. My first instinct? “No way!” The oldest of my three little humans was just four.  But then my husband—bless his brave soul—did the unthinkable. He took a career break to mind the kids so I could rediscover myself and my dreams. Bags packed, I headed to NLA College in Kristiansand, Norway. And oh, what a ride! Thank you NORHED for the opportunity of a lifetime.

Student life was glorious. Hubby, in cahoots with my friends, made sure I only got the filtered version of family news. Thanks to Skype, I had nightly face time with the kids and everything seemed picture-perfect. What I didn’t know was that while I took a break from motherhood, my own mother’s health was quietly slipping.

She and her beloved son-in-law had made a pact: I was not to know. Every call with her was upbeat, every update carefully curated. Their mission? Keep me focused and at peace.

In 2017, I returned to a different Maama. Frail, tired and no longer the vibrant woman I knew. She was in denial, clinging to hope that one morning she’d bounce back. That morning never came.

Living miles away from her made things even harder. We’d rush to her side whenever she was unwell—which became her new normal. But Maama had mastered the art of downplaying her symptoms because she didn't want to bother us. Her intentions were noble, but the consequences? Not so much.

Eventually, my husband put his foot down: “Maama must come and stay with us. We can’t just watch her fade.” Easier said than done. Convincing her to leave her home, church, friends and everything familiar was like negotiating an international peace treaty. But on September 25, 2018, she made the brave decision to move to Mukono. Successfully executing that diplomatic mission deserves its own chapter in our family history.

Was it smooth sailing? Absolutely not. Some days felt like we were on different planets. We’d say, “Let’s try this so you can live,” and she’d reply, “Why don’t you accept that I’m tired?” But we soldiered on—one day at a time, one prayer at a time.

Now, seven years later, I look back with awe. It’s been tough, yes. But also beautiful. We’ve danced, laughed and celebrated. Maama has kept us entertained with her unique takes on current affairs.

One evening, she casually asked, “Hoona mwamanya Zirye Wine kuyafa?” (Did you hear that Zirye Wine died?)

Cue confusion.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“That he was a friend of Bobo Wine,” she replied.

The kids chimed in, “Mukaka, it’s Bobi, not Bobo.”

She corrected herself, albeit wrongly : “Oh yes, I meant Bebe Wine.”

Turns out she was referring to Ziggy Wine. We laughed until our ribs ached—and she laughed with us.

She chose to call our foster daughter “Thionah” instead of Phionah, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Recently, she had a major health scare. We thought we were losing her. But God had other plans—she peeped into the grave and came back home. When asked what she’d miss most if she had passed that time, she said

“I’m ready to go anytime God calls me. But I’d have loved to see David’s mock results and, if God gives me bonus time, to know if my presidential candidate wins.”

Well, David, our son,  brought home his results a month later. The presidential candidates have been nominated. And Maama is still here. Who knows—she might even witness the Primary Leaving Examination results and the next president, whether we’re in the new or old Uganda.

But even if she doesn’t, we’re persuaded she knows whom she has believed. And when the time comes, it’ll be a transition from home to Home.

Prim is a Christian, wife, mother and communications specialist.