I‘ve now been in KL for just over two months. It’s been a crazy time. In those two months, I’ve house hunted, friend hunted, car hunted and doctor hunted amongst other things, all whilst growing a baby. In a new country. In 35 degree heat.
Which sounds like I’m complaining. But actually I’m really really not. I have had the time of my life. It has been far easier to settle here than I ever expected.
I’ve made friends who I already know are going to be in my life for a long time to come (they’re the type of friends you wish you’d made a year or two earlier because they really should have been at your wedding).
We’ve found a perfect apartment where I (and The Cat) feel at home and settled (it also has a dressing room, which may contribute towards my love for it. What? I’m easily impressed).
I’ve found a doctor who is happy to let me try and have the birth that I want (not that easy over here – think US-style medicated delivery and you get what the standard delivery is like here).
I’ve begun to adapt to the temperature (although my hair has definitely not adapted to the humidity), and now don’t need the air conditioning on 24/7 on order to prevent total meltdown (in all senses of the word).
|Despite having cankles like these for the entire time of being in KL….
|….how can I fail to be happy when this is the view from my BATH?|
In fact, overall this experience, and the challenges that it has involved has been one that I have thoroughly enjoyed. Yes, it’s hard being on the other side of the world from your friends and family, but this is not 1989. We have email, skype, cheap mobile phone calls, and despite all of its downfalls, facebook. I can keep in touch with everyone, they can actually ‘see’ me and the bump, and I can keep up to date with everything going on in my friends’ lives. Even if I am waking up as they go to sleep. Sorry Aisling/Anna.
But if I’m honest this wasn’t how I thought it was going to be. The thought of moving to another (completely unknown to me) country when seven months pregnant scared the crap out of me. This was not how I’d planned things. I didn’t even know if I was ready for a baby, let alone having one in a foreign country where I knew no-one and would be a 14 hour flight from home. It was a huge leap to take. Andy and I spent nights awake talking about whether it was the right thing to be doing. About whether we COULD do it.
I bored my friends and family to tears weighing up the pros and cons. Even when Andy and I weren’t up all night talking about it, I lay there wondering about whether I was crazy to do it, and whether we were strong enough to do it. I had to know that Andy and I were strong enough to be one another’s support networks if needs be. That even with zero sleep and sick covered clothes, we’d be there for each other, because it was quite possible that no-one else would be.
But with blind optimism, and a little bit of hope, I did it. I took the leap. And it was absolutely the right thing to do. I know I’ll have times when I wish my family were closer, or that I could go outside without looking like 1980′s Cher, but over all, I know that it was the right thing to do.
Taking the leap isn’t easy…but often you find that when you get there, the jumping was the hard bit. Life here on the other side of the leap is good.