Motherhood Without a Village
When people say, “It takes a village to raise a child,” I finally understand what they mean. But here in Germany, raising three kids with no family around, there is no village. It’s just my husband and me, doing our best to hold everything together.
I’m not complaining, I love my family and I’m grateful for what we have, but I won’t deny that it’s been hard. And here’s the untold truth about parenting without family support: it’s lonely, it’s exhausting, and no one really prepares you for it. Sometimes, I wish I had people around me, someone to step in and give me a breather, even just for a few minutes.
The funny thing is, I actually know what having a village looks like. I saw my oldest sister have all the help she could get when she had her kids, from my parents, to our other sisters, even cousins. Heck, I was even part of it myself. So, imagine seeing all of that and knowing that all of it exists, but not being able to experience it yourself, *sigh*, LIFE!
Raising Kids in Germany Without Family Support
The truth is, parenting without external support is a whole different reality that absolutely nothing or no one prepares you for. Every day life feels heavier, like the time I had a dentist’s appointment with a throbbing cavity. I went to the dentist with my baby (my husband was at work), thinking she’d sleep while the doctor fixed my tooth. Well, let’s just say my baby had other plans, and I had to reschedule the appointment for another day. I went home that day and had to rely on painkillers. That day, I wished so much there was a grandma or an aunt to step in and help me.
I remember after each birth of my kids, it was just my husband and me, too, no mom to cook meals, there was no casual picking up the phone to call my mom or sisters to come help us take night shifts with the baby; that just didn’t exist for us, and it still doesn’t exist.
And for years, it was like this without even the chance to reconnect with family. Upon coming to Germany, it took four years before my parents and siblings finally saw my kids, and before my kids got to see them. That distance was harder than I thought it would be, and it took about three visa rejections to get my mom to Germany finally, but I’m thankful that it eventually worked out, because she was able to come over and help me when my third child was born. But you see that little pocket of support, even if it was just for a short while, it was everything to me.
Everyday Challenges of Expat Motherhood
And here’s what it’s really like parenting without family support: small things that seem easy for others feel impossible for you, like date nights, those don’t really exist for us. Unless we pay for a babysitter (and honestly, that’s not realistic, because we’re not even rich like that), “just us” time is a super rare luxury we can’t even have.
How about running errands? This one feels like military operations, haha 😂, I’m talking Groceries, doctor’s appointments, shopping, etc everything’s done with my “battalion” in tow. As in, there’s nothing like “let me leave the baby with grandma just for a bit.” I must be dreaming.
And then there’s the loneliness, hmmmm. Not having another adult woman to chat with while the kids play, or someone to share little milestones with, is harder than I ever imagined. And to make it worse, I’m a naturally reserved person; in fact, call me an introvert. I call this ‘worse’ because making friends has never come easily to me, and living here, in Germany? It’s even harder. And part of it is the language barrier, too. And I’m not even gonna lie to you, I’ve been so scared to open my mouth and risk being mocked for mistakes (even though Germans don’t mock you for trying, though, they’d actually help you). So instead, I stay quiet. I keep to myself, and that just adds another layer to the isolation I feel here.
Being a Nigerian Mom in Germany
On top of the everyday struggles, being a Nigerian mom in Germany has its unique challenges. Like I have to do my daughters’ hair myself almost every week, is it wash day? Styling? Everything, because finding salons here that are inclusive for us, African girls, is almost impossible. I literally do not have the option of taking them to a salon, especially because of my location. My five-year-old longs for that salon experience because her friends in kindergarten talk about theirs all the time. Unfortunately, I can’t give that to her just yet; maybe when we visit the motherland. Sometimes, even finding the right products here used to feel like hunting for treasure.
Getting Nigerian food used to be a struggle, too, though it’s much better now. Still, those little things that would have been easy back home suddenly became big hurdles here.
Holding It Together Without a Village
Well, this is the reality of being a mom of three in a country where you have no family, no backup, and no village, just your husband. We share the responsibilities between my husband and me, and we make it work. But some days, I really wish it wasn’t always just us.
If you’re a mom in a similar situation, maybe an expat mom, maybe just a mom far away from family, I want you to know you’re not alone. We may not have a traditional village, but we’re still showing up for our kids every single day. And that matters more than anything. And so, what I wish I knew about parenting without family support is that it isn’t just about missing babysitters or extra hands. It’s about a missing connection
Dear Mama Who’s Reading This…
If you’ve made it this far, maybe it’s because some of my story sounds a lot like yours. Maybe you’re an expat mom, or maybe you just live far from family and know what it feels like to do motherhood without a village. Either way, I want to leave you with what I tell myself every time:
You’re not alone.
It might feel like everyone else has a grandma nearby, or a sister to call when they’re sick, or friends to lean on, but there are so many of us quietly doing it alone. Reading this, I want you to know that God is always with you, and you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.
Your story matters.
Not many people talk about what it’s like to raise kids abroad, or what it’s like to do it without help. Sharing this is my way of saying: your feelings are valid. The loneliness is real. The weight is heavy. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing, and remember, you’re bigger than it.
You’re stronger than you realise.
Even though it’s exhausting, you’re still showing up. You’re cooking, cleaning, doing school runs, braiding hair, wiping tears, and loving your babies. That’s resilience, mama. And it’s worth recognising and appreciating yourself for.
You don’t need a perfect setup to be enough.
I know it’s easy to look around and wish you had more support, more hands, more help. I do too, almost every day. But your kids don’t see what’s missing; they see you. And to them, you are their safe place, their joy, and their world.
Connection is still possible.
Maybe your village doesn’t look traditional. Maybe it’s an online community, a kind neighbour, or even words like these that remind you you’re not walking this road alone. Take heart in that, even little moments of support count.
So if you’re sitting there thinking, “This is me, this is what I’m living,” let this be your reminder: you are doing enough. You are enough. And while this road is hard, it’s not one you’re walking alone.
