"Don't bite off more than you can chew," she says. We did that! It's uncomfortable and overwhelming. I count the days that I don't cry, panic, or snap at my husband and/or strangers right now.
Photo: Me with Sam at the Harbor Bridge and Opera House #iconic.
Two weeks ago, my husband, two-month-old baby boy and I relocated to Sydney, NSW from Chicago, IL. Before that, we moved out of our three-story walk-up in Champaign to my parents’ apartment in Wheaton - just three weeks after Sam was born. Currently in the middle of our second season of transitions (first summer, now fall/spring here in Sydney), we’re all feeling out of breath.
Today, though, I don’t want to linger in the dark, dark deep. As my new friend Suz says, “Anything worth doing is tough, isn’t it?”
Yes, taking such a massive “bite” offers more than a sore jaw and exhaustion, so with two weeks as an ex-pat (a temporary one…is that a temp-ex-pat?), I’m putting on my big girl boots (made of leather and good for spider stomping) and noticing the light. I am seeing some of the hopeful moments and opportunities that have happened because of our big moves:
Living with my parents and being so close to my in-laws, I got to see them create their unique relationships with Sam. They love him without restraint or self-consciousness. They adore his wee self and are not bothered by his cries, what with so many years of parenting behind them. Seeing them nuzzle Sam, sing to him, feed him bottles, and exclaim over his growth, I only imagine that’s what they were like with my brothers and me, my husband and brothers-in-law. Two months of that. My dad says it was like having his own babies back again (except Sam is more well-adjusted and his cries sound less like a cat).
Witnessing the endurance of my husband. Mosi with a new baby, an emotionally charged wife, a deadline for his prelims (for his doctoral degree), and both a national and international move to organize, he stayed amazingly calm and kept us all from losing our minds. Plus he managed to bake the most nutty, hearty rye bread I’ve ever had.
Big victories: making it through the 24-hour travel day (Wheaton to Sydney, including included almost 20 hours of flying) - with a two-month-old. People were kind, Sam didn’t cry that much, and Mosi and I managed to sleep at least two hours. I’ll attempt to write a “How to fly across the Pacific with an infant” at a later date.
Photo: Our first family photo on the great southern continent, Coogee Beach.
Then there are the small every day victories, including:
Getting on and off the bus at the correct stops, with a stroller.
Successfully breast-feeding Sam in an assortment of public places. The best one: a parent’s room at a downtown convention center. Why are these not everywhere? The worst: a crowded train platform while standing up and trying to get a large hairy spider off S and me.
Spending entire days outside the apartment and enjoying it. This has happened maybe 4/10 times. Worth it, I think.
Accepting help from strangers. People are remarkably selfless when it comes to babies and moms of babies. During our first week here, I was out apartment-hunting with Sam. Famished the moment he awoke, I took so long to find a place to feed him that by the time I was sitting down, he was going berserk. I had found a bench in the back courtyard of a café but it was chilly outside. Sam was, at this point, a ball of chaos. This pretty woman appeared out of nowhere and smilingly told me to come into the café to feed him. It turns out she owns the café. She found us a pillowed nook to sit and brought me a coffee, then proceeded to help me with Sam and hang out with us. Suz, sent from the heavens.
Finding an incredible apartment and, multiple times, seeing our needs provided at the last moment. I see God in this, and I see hard work and endurance. I see people gifting us with their support, hospitality, words of encouragement and wisdom, and time. Family, friends, friends of friends, the church, strangers.
Photo: We made it! Coogee Beach at sunset. Friends of a friend made us dinner in their sweet beach granny flat and took us on a walk.
I don’t see these moments in times of comfort, when my days are routine, and my needs are met well before the last hour. I expect the weeks to be as they always are: slightly mundane, predictable, easy, and full of established friendships, community, and purpose.
This time in our lives is none of those adjectives, it is instead: unpredictable, stressful, and difficult, yet full of unexpected moments of bright extraordinary life. Some days are easy, like today. Sam and I sit in our pajamas in bed all day, sheltered from Spring rains. We (I) eat Tim Tams because they actually are delicious with tea, the sun is peeking out and no one is crying.
I often lose my cool and daily wish I was more patient, steady, giving, etc., but I have faith that life is yet full of surprises, and I am trying to accept the bad with the good.
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