My husband and I both finished university in the same year, about eleven years ago. Whenever we discussed getting a master’s degree, he would say, “Let’s do it together so we can be stressed, okay?” I would often laugh and say, “Okay, boo.”

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Career-wise, we were both doing okay, but his salary was about three times mine. In my field, even with my years of experience, a master’s degree had the potential to make a significant difference, whereas for him, it was just an add-on that might not bring immediate benefits.

When our son turned a year old, he brought it up again and bought application forms for both of us. Even though I didn’t feel ready, he was, and I didn’t want to burst his bubble. Eventually, I did, because I never submitted the form. Though he had completed his months before, he was waiting for us to submit them together. When I didn’t, he ended up not submitting his either.

The following year, I bought the forms for both of us to make up for my earlier hesitation. This time, I felt ready, but I still didn’t complete my form, until he took over, filled it out, and we submitted them together. When the admissions came, he was offered a different program than the one he applied for, while I got into the program I had selected. Around the same time, he was also considering another opportunity abroad, so he decided not to pursue the program and see if the other option would work out. It didn’t.

I never received a call for an interview; my admission came first in the form of a WhatsApp group I was added to, and then later, the official letter. Initially, it felt like a scam because based on our inquiries, I definitely should have been contacted first. While I was still skeptical, he went ahead and paid more than half of my fees.

Around that time, during a regular phone conversation with my dad, he made a comment that really upset me. He said, “Wode3 wop3 aware3 o, wode s3 wo maame.” It was not a compliment. The implication was that I had gotten married, had a child, and settled down when I could be doing so much more with my life. I was hurt because I had worked hard, progressed in my career, and was still doing a lot but my dad didn’t know. As much as I tried to keep him updated, he still felt I wasn’t doing enough, just because I was married. That statement triggered something in me. I told myself I would excel in this master’s program so he’d have to take back those words.

My husband tried to help me see things from my dad’s perspective, but I wasn’t having it. Before school started, we sat down to discuss how we would manage our son. He had just turned two a week or two before my weekend program began. My husband worked and lived in Accra, while I lived and worked in Kumasi. I thought I had it all figured out.

I had spoken to a few people who were willing to take care of our son over the weekends while I was in class, and even offered to keep him until Sunday evening.

But my husband wouldn’t hear of it. He said he would find a way to support me, though I couldn’t imagine how it would work given the distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the people. I think he just didn’t agree with the idea. Out of frustration, I told him, “Because it’s not you who’s going to feel the stress, you’re refusing to understand.”

I married a very good man, I know that. One who has always wanted the best for me since we were just friends. I should have had more faith in that. It didn’t take me long to realize how wrong I was to lose hope in that desperate moment.

For five months straight, when I started the program, my husband drove from Accra to Kumasi every weekend that I had face-to-face classes. The schedule was two weekends in-person, and two weekends online, and back again.

He would arrive late Friday night, sometimes early Saturday morning. He’d drop me off on campus, pick me up when I closed, and take care of everything concerning our two-year-old.

He did the laundry, cleaned the house and even cover places I normally ignored. Then he would iron clothes for both our son and me, do the shopping, before driving back to Accra after picking me up from school on Sundays.

I saw all these sacrifices and told myself I would not let him down.

Then came vacation for our boy. It coincided with my end-of-semester exams. Even though my workplace allowed me to bring him along, his presence would’ve affected my study time. Also, I had an interview in Accra for a job I’d applied to a month earlier. It was a crazy time, but once again, this man showed me he was born ready.

After I wrote my first two papers, he drove all of us to Accra for the interview and told me to pack enough clothes for our son to stay for two weeks. I returned to Kumasi alone while he stayed with our son. I had two solid weeks to study and write four more papers.

During the final week, I had a Saturday presentation, and I convinced a friend to support me because I didn’t think it was worth him making the trip, though he considered it.

You can imagine my joy when the results came in and I had all As. I was over the moon. His sacrifices had not been in vain. But this man simply looked at the results and said, “Congrats,” with no fanfare. His reason? “You’re not done yet. Don’t let it get to your head.” It annoyed me a little, but I understood.

Thankfully, I got the job, and we had to relocate to Accra in June. I was relieved that at least the risky weekend drives were over.

After we settled in, I resumed classes in Accra. Again, he would drive me to campus every weekend, and I’d find my way back home. While I handled all the cooking and made sure the house was stocked with food, he took charge of caring for our son, putting him to bed, and cleaning the house so I could focus on my studies.

In August, I had to travel every weekend to Kumasi for exams, and once again, he handled it like a pro. What surprised me most was that the week before my first trip, he handed me money to cover all my transportation for the next four weeks. I could have afforded it. I could have even asked him if I needed it. But he didn’t wait for me to ask. He planned ahead and took initiative.

This time around too, I aced all the papers except for one course where I got a B.

For my thesis, he said, “You needed the certificate for a better job, and now you have it. Don’t stress yourself. Get someone to do it and let’s pay.”

The stubborn part of me wanted to do it all by myself, but I saw the wisdom in what he said. I was in a new role, adjusting to life in Accra with early mornings and traffic. It would be too much to do. So I listened to him. Again, I could have paid for the thesis support, but he made the first payment and ensured he gave me the rest later.

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That aside, he drove me to work every day after dropping our son at school. Although he could have worked from home, he chose to work from the office so he could pick me up after he closed.

In my thesis acknowledgment, I thanked the four most important men in my life. My dad,  for that comment, which triggered something powerful in me. My twin brother, who though he only has a diploma, never made me feel I was doing something wrong for  aiming higher. My son, for adapting to our hectic schedules and being our joy. And top of the list is my husband. I don’t even need to say what I’m thanking him for.

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I’ve seen how some men make their wives’ lives difficult when they want to pursue higher education. And I can’t help but remember how blessed I am. I always pray for God to bless and preserve my husband, because without him, life would be super hard. I don’t even want to think about it.

To my dear K, today is my graduation. Thank you for holding the forte and pushing me to this. We did it, love. As stubborn as I am most times, thank you for loving me this deeply. I love you so much!

—AraB

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