My Transplanted Life

I originally drafted this post for a guest starring role on Megan's blog when she asked me to be one of her "Saturday Squatters". That didn't quite pan out, and now Megan is nowhere to be found so - it's going in here instead!

I'm prompted to dust this post off because I've been reading about the transitions made by an American into life in the UK, and so many of the adjustments she's had to make echo my own, only in the opposite direction. I've been fascinated following her story of how she'd left all that she knew behind in the US, and had to try and make herself comfortable in England.

Making myself comfortable doesn’t come easy for me at times. Uprooting your life and moving across the world sounds like an adventure to be embraced by many, envied by others, and feared by some, like me!

You see, I love me some comfort zones. Familiarity, security, predictability – these are the things that make me breathe easy, and sleep well at night. Someone (my husband!) threw a spanner in those works a while back and all of a sudden I’m moving from Ireland, to Florida, USA! (A spanner is a wrench for all you American English readers – one of the many word substitutions I’ve had to embrace, more on this later).

Now I’m living life as an Irish bud transplanted, and after a while of feeling unsettled I am now ‘Blooming Marvelous’.

I felt sorry for myself for a long time. Love brought me here to the states. But love was also pulling me back home to Ireland, to my family and friends that I missed. Many times after moving here, my then fiancé was worried that I was going to bail and head home, leaving him to choose if he wanted to come with me. I asked for his patience and understanding which he gave unfalteringly, as I found my feet here.

With very few exceptions, American people have been overwhelming in their welcoming outreach towards me. Friends and strangers alike have warmly accepted us here in the United States, and are tickled to find out that we are Irish. I have certainly found that old adage that ‘half the world is Irish, and the other half wishes they were Irish’, to be true.

But Florida wasn’t Ireland, it wasn’t where my family was, and it wasn’t ‘home’.

After the ‘busyness’ that surrounded our wedding settled down, and I found myself pregnant with our first child, I did start to find my way here. I fell into that familiarity, security and predictability that I craved through my ongoing OB/GYN visits, and meeting and chatting with other pregnant women, the nurses and my doctor. Aside from friends I’d met through my husband [I kind of viewed them as 'friend's once removed', since they were his friends really, not mine] – these were the only other people I’d met and become familiar with.

When my baby arrived, and I started to take her along to ‘Mommy and Me’ groups, I made real friends of my own. I met people with kids my daughter’s age and found common ground with many of them. These women taught me a lesson. Several of them came from far flung States across this vast nation. Far from their families and friends, and settled themselves in Florida. For some, this wasn’t the first place to which they had ‘transplanted’ and with the realization that they were doing this so smoothly came the wake up call to myself that people uproot themselves and move all the time! They survive, and more than that they thrive!

I gradually adjusted my thinking and opened myself to the possibility of feeling comfortable here. You see, I had resisted the temptation to settle because I felt like I would in some way be betraying myself, and my family by admitting that I could feel settled in Florida. After all, am I not supposed to be devastated that I am so far from family? I am very sad at times that we aren’t geographically closer and goodness knows there are times in the last while that I could have used the physical and emotional support that would have been there without me ever having to ask for it, if we were physically closer.

In trying to stay true to myself and my identity as an Irish person I also resisted vehemently the need to use American English vocabulary and spelling in many situations. All this did was cause confusion and I’d look at puzzled faces as I’d talk about putting nappies in the changing bag and hanging it on the handle of the pram, or mention that in this cooler weather I’d be pulling on a jumper and trousers instead of a sweater and pants.

For the sake of my kids I have started to use American vocabulary like diapers, stroller, pants, stove, sidewalk, etc more frequently, so that they do not need to encounter the same puzzled faces. It’s hard enough for other people to understand kids as it is, I don’t need to make it more difficult!

I’m still resisting the US spelling though – even though phonetic spelling makes a whole lot more sense, I just can’t bring myself to change how I spell things like honour, colour, centre. It may make me seem illiterate, but for now you will just have to forgive me.

Blogging itself has helped me feel more settled, and it has given me a sense of belonging as it is a great leveler. I tend to blog about my life as a stay at home mother with two small kids, and garner great support and friendship from other bloggers in the same circumstances. I have been known to touch on the odd serious issue, too which gives my brain some much needed exercise, and helps me engage in a certain level of debate, at times. I have also encountered other bloggers who are far from ‘home’ and reading about their experiences, and sharing my own with them as a ‘transplant’ helps, a lot. Who knew you could find virtual support groups for every need – right here literally at your fingertips? A veritable kaleidoscope of good reads, that with each click brings a new group of snapshots into other people's lives. These help reduce the feelings of loneliness when they crop up because you can always find someone who’s ‘been there, done that’ and survived, sometimes stronger because of it.

Ten Years

Ten years ago today something happened that tipped my world upside down.

Something that was to open my eyes, my experiences, my heart, my love.

I came to America for the first time, arriving to join other family members for my cousin's wedding. I got to experience the closest thing to tropical paradise I'd ever seen when we stayed in the islands of Sanibel and Captiva in the Gulf of Mexico, where the wedding took place.

I sat on white shell beaches, watching sandpipers dot in and out of the foamy surf. I marveled at pelicans diving for their lunch a little way offshore. I swam in warm green waters and felt tiny fish brush against my ankles. I felt like I was on a travel show and 'Wildlife on One', all rolled into one.

Among white egrets, and lush hibiscus, the Bride and Groom finished all those last minute preparations. We gathered in the small white church and watched them celebrate their love, and join their lives. Little did I know sitting there in that church, that two days later I was to meet my own future husband, the day before I flew back to Ireland.

Who would have believed that this Irish guy whom my cousins counted among their very good friends, who wasn't at the wedding due to previous boozing with his buddies Gaelic Football commitments in San Fransisco, would come into my life and change it, completely?

My practical, rational side dictated that the odds of ever seeing this man again, having met him the night before my vacation ended were negligible. My heart and my gut however told me something different. As I looked out of the airplane window into the dark, watching the grid-like pattern of the street lit city of Miami grow smaller as the plane climbed, I knew something was different and I wondered had I just met someone important. Pipe dreams? Delusions? Maybe - but I am living proof that some dreams can come true.

Through our unconventional, separated by 4000 miles and the Atlantic Ocean, courtship, we had many phone calls when we chatted about all the usual getting-to-know-you stuff. We engaged in frivolous chatter, and serious discussions where we'd be the ones to set the world to rights. I had many more trips to Florida to visit him, and he came home to Ireland several times, too. Many times I'd ask myself 'where is this going?' and once we did try to end it, both agreeing that living a half a world apart wasn't exactly conducive to a thriving relationship. I did at one point try make my peace with the fact that we were not 'meant to be' and however much that hurt I stopped calling him. He continued to keep in touch with me however, and so we hovered for a while in a limbo of not moving forward and not breaking off completely either. Then he blessedly survived a very serious accident, and his attitude to 'us' took on a more serious and determined slant. Knowing that he could have died in that accident also made me realise that deep down where I didn't even want to admit it to myself, I really, really loved this guy. He's the first and only man I've ever loved, and will be the only man I will ever love.

Five years after meeting him, I moved to Florida to be with him - five months after our engagement. We got engaged while I was on vacation here, and I flew back to Ireland alone, two days later - I like to keep running themes in my life like that.

We are so different in lots of ways. I am college educated, my husband is more of a graduate of the school of life kind of guy. He is an extrovert, and I am more reserved. He is a risk taker, I am not! (He's a good housekeeper, I am not, but he's taught me a lot and I'm getting better ha ha!). We are the same in many ways. Our values and family upbringings are very similar. Our morals, dedication to our families and attitudes to our own little family and parenting are virtually the same.

Here we are 10 years, a transatlantic courtship, a wedding and two babies later. I still miss home, but I can truthfully say that I am very happy. I am up to my ears in Fisher Price, afraid of the outcome of my son's medical tests, and today dealing with our first kiddie puking experience if you can believe it since Miss E was born nearly 3 years ago, but I am happy.

Here's to meeting you 10 years ago D, I love you and am so glad you happened to me!

The Best Laid Plans ...

A former ‘career girl’ turned Stay at Home Mom, with two kids in suburban America! How the heck did this happen to me? An Irish girl – whom only a short while ago had no intention whatsoever of leaving Ireland, much less to come 4000 miles away! I loved my comfy little life thanks very much with my nice car and well paid job. I am what most would call a ‘homebody’ too, I loved being close to my Mum and the rest of my family and friends.

This is what happens when your world gets turned upside down by meeting a cute Irish guy in a bar in Ft Lauderdale. He was a friend of my cousin and her fiancé, and I was in Florida for their wedding. I met him the night before I left to return to Ireland. Buzzed on one too many Rum Runners, I kissed him goodnight in front of many cousins, aunts and uncles (one of whom is a Priest!). I took off from Miami Airport the next day, never dreaming I’d set eyes on or hear from this guy again. I mean holiday romances never work out, and we hadn’t even had a romance at all! Imagine my embarrassment too at arriving home, met by my parents at the airport, to discover that the family jungle drums had been beating and all of a sudden I’m getting the third degree on the ‘young man’ I met! Cut a really long story short – we kept in touch by phone, he came home intending to stay, couldn’t hack it, moved back to the USA, broke my heart, we kept in touch a bit more, and the transatlantic visits started increasing in number – both directions.

All the while I was working my way up in my job in bank marketing, and doing pretty good. Of course, despite my own delusions to the contrary, nobody is perfect, and the one ‘flaw’ that kept coming up in my evaluations was my aversion to risk – I kept being told that I needed to take more risks ( ironic considering that the banking industry has to be one of the most risk averse I can think of!). And so began a period of intense self contemplation. I liked my job, I was good at it and I was excited that I was earmarked for further promotion – but what did this mean when the man I loved lived so far away? At work we were always encouraged to set professional goals etc – I never managed to come up with convincing plans and it is only in retrospect that I can see why? I only thought I loved my career.

What I realize now is how I could never have been fulfilled by my career alone, and couldn’t have continued to make transatlantic trips twice a year to see my fella. There would always have been something missing. On a visit to see him in Florida in April 2002 I was asked a question that would have me considering the most risky decision of my life so far – he asked me to marry him! I said yes instinctively and came home to much celebration from our families, and celebration tempered with curiosity and a level of concern from my co-workers and immediate line managers! I guess they knew the writing was on the wall and that I’d be leaving soon – something I wasn’t even prepared to admit to myself. How could I just up and leave my job and trek halfway across the world?

And so my self contemplation continued for a while longer, my risk averse self hoping something else would take over and make the decision for me – do I leave and head Stateside?, or do I work on my husband-to-be and persuade him to make the move home? I knew that the latter option would make him unhappy at that particular time so the only choice really was for me to move here.

Here I am four and a half years later, married, with two beautiful children. Staying at home was an easy decision for us. We had, thanks to a long drawn out immigration process, been living on one salary since I got here, (my work permit didn’t come through until just before I got pregnant with my first), but more important than that minor inconvenience, both of us wanted me to be at home with our child(ren). Living with the decision has been difficult at times, and I have struggled with the ‘losing my identity’ thing more than once. Settling in Florida has taken a long time, I was desperately homesick, and while I do still miss home, kids have a way of giving you a different focus, and truthfully keep me too darned busy most of the time to feel homesick.

So, the best laid plans do go astray as they say – had you told me 6 years ago that I’d be swapping my suits and salary, for sandals and spit-up I’d have laughed heartily in your face. While I always hoped to be married and have children, I imagined them fitting nicely into my life as it was – now I laugh heartily at myself. In telling me that I was risk averse and needed to work on that, my bosses helped me take the plunge in my personal life, kissing my professional life goodbye – for now. I had to do what my Mum and many others encouraged me to do – submit to another plan, not my own – but put my trust in God and be guided by Him – and I thank Him for bringing me here.