Emigration (defn: to leave a place, especially a native country, to go and live elsewhere)

I have tried a dozen times to write this chapter, it is not easy to put into words just how painful a process this has been.  Let me start at the beginning…

The Decision

In 2005 I was working for a government primary school in South Africa.  I had a front office position and so interacted with many students and parents’ a week.   During the course of my employment I must have dealt with an incident a week where a child/family needed counselling for stress and anxiety related to crime in South Africa.  Being exposed to these horror stories made me much more aware of how close the danger was to my own family.

I attended a presentation by the SA police where they were preparing and giving advice to teachers, students and their families on how to survive a crime like a home invasion or a car hijacking.  As I sat listening heaviness began to settle inside my chest. 

We were told to avoid eye contact with the attackers, to try to stay as calm as possible and co-operate as much as possible - get them out as quickly as you can.  If you panic, it feeds everyone else’s emotions too and becomes a volatile situation.  Tell the attacker what you are going to do before you move, e.g. My children must get out of the car, when they are out, I will get out and you can take the car and go. Do not get out of the car until you children/passengers are out of the car.  

As I sat there I thought, “I should not have to know this stuff!  My children should not need to know what to do if I am held at gunpoint!  How can this be my life?”  I had an epiphany, I realised that this was not okay! I began to confront my ghosts and my faith in our “rainbow nation” began to shatter.

• My great uncle was murdered in 1995 in a home invasion; the attackers crushed his skull with the butt of a gun.  They then tied him up because they did not realise that he was dead.  In the end they got away with a TV set and a bit of jewellery.  Later they were captured and tried in court.  They were sentenced to 5 years.  
• Haydn’s uncle was murdered. 
• My dad was hijacked at gunpoint for a car. 
• My mother was almost knocked over by fleeing gunmen after a bank robbery. 
• A friend of mine was shot in his home during a robbery, he was unarmed. 
• Our neighbourhood had 28 dogs poisoned in one night. 
• Robberies and car thefts were just a part of normal life. 
• Rape stats were at an all time high, one in three women in SA will be raped in their lifetime that is me, or one of my babies! 

 All these things, so close to home, when is close too close?  What will convince me that I need to do more to protect my family? That night when the kids were asleep Haydn and I started talking about our fears, it turned out that he was having similar ideas and that perhaps now was the time to take action.

We looked at so many options, moving to East London, Durban, Cape Town, Knysna, wherever we looked similar crime horror stories became evident.  Was it just a matter of time before the whole Country would be in the grip of an intolerable crime wave? 

Later that week the News produced the final nail in the coffin.  We realised that it was indeed time to go.

You tube clip. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2QK1PBZo5Y

South African Minister of Safety & Security,Charles Nqakula, in parliament, saying the following: "They can continue to winge until they are blue in the face. They can continue to be as negative as they want to, or... they can simply leave this country..."
This is our governments feeling about innocent people who are sick and tired of being robbed, raped and murdered in their homes and on our streets. The South African government is ignoring the rising levels of crime and corruption and the South African people are sick of it!” 

In October of that year, Haydn booked a flight to New Zealand for an LSD trip, (Look, See, and Decide).  He loved it!  Life was simpler and kids were playing in public parks with beautiful, well maintained public playgrounds, riding their bikes and walking to the shops.  It was safe.  Before we knew it he had a job interview and was offered the position.  Things snowballed, before we knew it, we were leaving everything and everyone we loved to protect the two little people that we made.

The Process

Once we had talked it out and agreed, we met and discussed our decision with our extended families.  First was my Mom and Dad, I told them the why of it all and then I asked them to come with us.  They readily agreed to follow us – both their children and all their grandchildren would be there.  We spoke to Haydn’s siblings, Nina agreed to follow us with her family, Brett and his family did not.  Haydn’s mother promised to think on it and definitely visit.  Haydn’s dad said that he would visit us too.  So many of our friends and relatives had similar ideas and so we felt like we were doing the right thing.

Even so, the whole process was terribly painful.  I knew that the end of life as I knew it was near.  In some ways, I needed it to be all over, in another, I wanted time stretch out so that we could be with our loved ones.  It was like dying.  I wondered around for months crying at the drop of a hat, totally incapable of dealing with the pending loss of everything I knew and loved.

Haydn was not there for much of this because of his job offer - he left just after Christmas.  I did all the packing on my own.  The house had sold but that sale fell through and I had to sell the house again.  I said goodbye to all my dear friends and colleagues at the school, my animals, my friends, family and even my belongings.  The reality of this move was a bitter a pill to swallow.  My heart broke a thousand times over and even now, the lump in my throat returns, just thinking of that awful time.

I had a full check up and needed another back surgery; one of my screws was loose (yeah, yeah, we always knew I had a screw loose).  In December my spine had an overhaul, in January I sold and packed up the house, re-homed my precious animals, in February I had Lasik (eye surgery – will talk about that at another time).  On the 13^th February I said goodbye to my homeland and everything that I loved, I took my 2 girls and we got on the plane.   My precious family and friends were left behind, my little boys, Jordan and Tyler, left behind like a limbs, ripped from my body.  

Footnote:  In retrospect, knowing everything that we know now, I would have stayed in SA, kept my job, house, pets and even the rat race lifestyle, purely because that would have been easier!  Easier on my heart & soul, my folks and, in most ways, easier on Haydn and I.  We would never have known any better and our girls would have grown up tough and used to the South African lifestyle. 

Now they are soft kiwi kids, with no real perception of the dangers out there.  Kids who can safely walk/ride around freely (so long as they have their phones on them).  Schooling is great and comparatively inexpensive, they have what they need. They will get an interest free loan from the government for tertiary study and they are NZ citizens with all the benefits that this holds for them.  We live in a country that has one of the lowest crime rates and over the last few years it has in fact dropped, rather than increased. With everything we know now, for our kids, we cannot go back.

Fast Forward 11 years...

I now realise that children are a mixed blessing.  I have two wonderful daughters who I love with all my heart and would not trade for anything - on a good day any way.  I am not certain how I would survive without Nigel Latta, my Guru on all things childrensicle. http://goldfishwisdom.org/parents.  My favourite quote being “Relax, we are all bad parents”

The truth is that so much has changed since those long ago days of nappies and nightmares that now I can only look back in fondness.  Aahh, the memories… 

In most respects now I feel much more in control, except when I don’t.  I have learned some essential rules of engagement and I can usually even put them into practice on a daily basis. Impressive don’t you think?

Rules:

Shouting does not work (unless the TV/Stereo is too loud) so save it for the days when you really need the release.  Kids don’t react to shouting they react to consequences.

When you are angry try to take your voice low (maintain eye contact) and speak really slow.  Stay Calm!

Never go to bed angry and always remember time passes differently for kids.  While we can stew in our fury for hours after a melt down or blow up, your little spawn has moved on within 2 minutes and cannot comprehend why you are still angry.  Especially if they have already muttered a half hearted apology.  Take a deep breath and move on, you will eventually anyway.

I am constantly reminding myself that they are just kids and my expectations are probably too high.  What parent actually has kids that keep their rooms tidy and do what is asked without hesitation or question?  If you are out there please make contact!!!

Back to my story, second time round...

So Haydn went off to his meeting (two and a half hours away) and I went to the hospital.  I went to the reception and asked, “Hi,” I said, “could you please direct me if I think that I am in labour?”  

The receptionist looked at me and with a twinkle of humor in her eyes replied, “That would be the labour ward Madam.”

“Oh no” I tried to explain that I was having a c-section on the 18^th but just needed to be reassured and my doctor was in surgery and so I had been told to go to the hospital and she would see me in between her other patients.  

The lady smiled a sympathetic smile probably thinks, “poor porridge brained woman...” but says, “Yes, madam, that would still be the labour ward” she smiled and pointed the way.  

Feeling stupid I walked on, this time a bit more prepared.  When I arrived at the labour ward I told the charge nurse that I was there to be checked by my doctor and had been told to come here. The ward staff were expecting me and a nurse showed me to a small room where I was fitted with a fetal monitor and told that someone would be in to check on me soon.   

It was so reassuring to hear that strong, loud and fast heart beating away in my belly.  By the time the midwife came in I was grinning from ear to ear, it felt like she was kicking against my spine and stretching, her heart was thumping along and I knew that we were both okay!

After looking at the monitor, print out and doing a quick internal, she said to me, “It looks like you are both getting too impatient to wait for the 18^th eh?  Dr will be in to see you soon.”  She smiled and left me wondering what the heck she meant.  (Can you see where this is going?  Maybe now you understand the porridge brain affliction).   

About 20 minutes passed and my doctor came in, she looked at the monitor, the report, etc and said to me, “Well you are in a hurry aren’t you?  I am just going to do a quick routine hysterectomy and then we will bring this baby out.”  Once again I was confused, “why do I need a hysterectomy?” I asked really confused.

She laughed, “Not you Tracy, another patient!  Then I will do your c-section, you are in labour silly.  You are already 6cm dilated and this baby is not gonna wait much longer.”

“I’m in labour?  But, I didn’t bring my bag, Haydn thought I was overreacting” I tried to explain.  (Yes, of course in hind sight it is a funny story).  

I finally managed to convince her that I was okay enough to make the 8km drive home, get me bag and be back within half an hour.  Once I got back to my car I rang Haydn, who thought I was joking but eventually agreed to turn around and come back to Joburg.  Next was my mom, who turned around on her way to work, she would stay with me until Haydn got back.  My gran was tasked with finding me a video camera – we had one for Megan and so we have to have one for Jenna!  

When I got back to the hospital I phoned Haydn, “the c-section is going ahead at 11, will you make it?”

“Trace, tell them they have to wait," there was a brief pause,"we are a bit lost!  We thought we could take a short cut and now we are not sure where we are, we are going to have to back track and find our way.” Haydn was a bit hysterical; I think he was feeling a bit stupid.  Eventually he convinced me to delay things as much as possible, I was not amused.

My mom was there, check.  The video camera was there, check.  I had been shaved and prepped, the only thing missing was Haydn.   They were just about to wheel me out of the ward when in walked the man of the moment.  He rushed to me and kissed my forehead apologizing for not taking me seriously.  This resulted in the nurses shouting at him and dragging him into a change room to get dressed for theatre.  The next time I saw him, I already had been "spine blocked" and the doctors were scrubbing up.  Because I was only 36 weeks along, there was a separate team just for my Jenna, in case she needed them.

When she was born with 10 precious fingers and toes, she needed to be incubated for a bit longer than normal but other than that she was fine, perfect even.  My second thought was that she looked so very different from Megan. 

It is amazing to me how different my two birth experiences were and how much more confident I was with Jenna.  I was also lucky to have a private room (the hospital was one of my clients) this time and so she was in my room the whole time.  By 5pm I was up and successfully breastfeeding, at 6pm I walked out to see Megan and show her, her new sister through the viewing window.  She was almost two and did not really know what was going on.  Just two days later we all went home, now a family of four.

I Digress...

Yet another classic example of Haydn not taking me seriously.   

It has happened so many times but still he has not learned.  When I had the kidney stone, (a pain I might add, that is likened to childbirth), he complained because I wanted to go to the hospital at 5am and Meg was still sleeping.  He asked me to wait until she woke up.  Eventually I managed to get it into his thick skull that this was killing me!!!  So we woke Meg and dropped her at my folks and went to the hospital.  

While the doctors were examining me, he called my mother, from the other side of the curtain and said, “I am sure she is just constipated, or something!”  Yes, you heard right "constipated"  because that would really make me feel like I am dying!  Not only did I have several Kidney Stones, but they were so big that they had to be surgically removed.

Sometimes I wonder how I have managed to put up with him for so long.  I must really, really love him.  The bible does say that “love is patient” after all, ha ha!

Second time round,

Back to the story...

Ok so to recap, back to 23^rd December 1999.   I had felt "a bit off" for a day or two and then it dawned on me that I was late, not late for work but L A T E!  I went to the pharmacy a bought a home pregnancy test, the old faithful that had confirmed Miss Meggie-moo.  Naturally, I was too anxious to wait for the morning, so when I got back to work I went straight to the loo.  After five minutes, there were two blue lines and an incredibly astounded me!

I calmly walked back to my desk and emailed Haydn.  If I recall correctly, I typed, “Just passed that test with two blue lines, eeeem hello?”  Within seconds, the phone rang.  “Yes.  No, I am not kidding.  I am going to ring the Dr now.  I love you too.  Bye”

The next morning I was at my Gynae’s rooms at 07h30, I was a high risk patient because of my previous miscarriage.  She did an internal scan and the news was not great, my world collapsed around me.  “No, please no.  Not again!”  I was about 3 weeks pregnant and the scan was not promising.  I was sent off for the bloods that do the qualitative hormone count.  By the time I got home, later that morning It was all over, I had started bleeding and I knew what that meant.  I curled myself up into a ball and gave work a complete miss, it was Christmas Eve and supposed to be my last day anyway.  

At around noon my doctor rang.  “The bloods look good, I think it may all be okay.”

“No, it’s not, I am bleeding, it’s all over” I replied.

“That could be from the internal scan, is the bleeding heavy?”  she asked.

“No, not heavy, but I haven’t got the courage to hope.” By now the tears were sliding down my face and my throat hurt like hell from the effort of holding in my sobs.

“The best thing for us to do is wait a day and then repeat the bloods again, if they are still climbing, then your baby is still growing and you are still pregnant” she sounded more confident than I felt.

I think that her confidence gave me some hope, I took a deep breath and we discussed a plan that included me getting medication to strengthen my cervix and Haydn and I still driving to Gonubie, East London.  On Boxing Day I would have a second blood test down there and we could take it from there.  Haydn and I discussed it and agreed that we were not going to tell everyone – especially if I was going to have a miscarriage for Christmas.  The dark days were back!

Christmas lunch was at mom and dad’s mountain house.  The day was difficult and after lunch we left for Gonubie.  This is an 11 hour drive from the Highveld down through the Free State into the Eastern Cape, it is a long journey.  We arrived at about 3am and went straight to bed, in the morning Nana looked after Meg so that we could catch up on some sleep.  Boxing Day was a public holiday, but it was also the day that I had to have the next blood test.   

The only blood lab open was at the hospital and so off we went.  After explaining to three people why I had to have the bloods done, a nurse came to me and explained that as it was a public holiday, they were only handling emergency cases and that I should rather come back tomorrow.  In true Tracy style, I lost the plot, “Do you mean to say that for me to find out if the bay inside me is alive or dead is not an emergency?” I enquired at the top of my lungs.  The nurse stammered and muttered, everyone in the waiting room shuffled uncomfortably.   

Before she could string a sentence together a Doctor rushed in and ushered us out of the waiting room and into a consulting room.  With a vague apology he told the nurse to do the bloods and tell the lab to put a rush on it.  With my adrenaline still pumping, bloods were drawn and we left with a promise from the Doctor that he would contact my Gynae with the result as soon as possible.  In the car I burst into tears, frustration and anxiety overcoming common sense. 

At about six that evening she called, “the blood levels still look good but unforturnately it is not conclusive because the test was conducted by a different lab and the counting methods differ, so to be absolutely certain, you will need to go back to the same lab again in 2 days.”  

Argh!  When will it end, I just wanted to know, one way or the other, was I or wasn’t I?  The stress was unreal!  Another two day wait, another blood test.  It all just seemed so cruel!   

The next blood test was quick and easy, the lab must have been forewarned as they were very professional and efficient.  On the 28^th of December it was confirmed that the foetus was still growing and therefore the pregnancy was still viable.  But, to add to our worries the sonar scan measurements insisted that I had been 1 day pregnant when I had undergone, general anaesthetic to have kidney stones surgically removed.  This meant that our baby had been exposed to radiation from x-rays, etc, just 1 day into her creation.  

Once again, my doctor assured me that the amounts of radiation were not enough to be of major concern and that our baby was going to be fine.  But there was still that lingering worry that this little girl (we saw in the scan that she was a girl) who was still holding on to life, was not going to be normal.  At 36 weeks I went on maternity leave, it was Friday.   On the Sunday we took Megan to Emmerentia Dam for a day out, on her scooter.  It was hot, I felt so uncomfortable and tired it felt like I had walked a marathon.  The rest of the weekend went by in real discomfort.

On Monday morning I was dressed by 6:30am, Haydn teased me that I was on maternity leave, had my little porridge brain forgot?  “No,” I replied, “something is not right, I am going to the doctor”.  He laughed again and said, “well she is only coming out on the 18^th so you may want to take some time to rest and stop worrying.  I am going to Vereeniging for a meeting today.  Call me if you need me.” 

Nurse

I employed "Nurse" when Megan was about 9 months old and had been on antibiotics on and off for over 5 months.  Our paediatrician told me that the only way for my baby to actually get well again would be to take her out of day care, permanently.

That all sounds very simple, but we were a two income family and there was no way we could afford to go down to one.  We were 25 and 27 with a mortgage and a baby, there was no disposable income!  In South Africa you get your 4 months maternity leave and you get your ass back to work.  

There is no such thing as “working for families” or “work, life, balance”.  I remember how I cried that first day, it felt like my right arm had been ripped off of me and I had to just be brave and “drive away”.  That was the hardest thing in the world.  (Trusting a virtual stranger with your most precious possession, getting into your car and driving away).  The first day I lasted a whole 3 hours and went back.  The next day I started work for real and handed her over from 7am to 5:30pm.  

To say “that day sucked” would be a very kind embellishment of the truth.   The greater insult was that we had to pay R600 a month for the privilege.  It seemed an impossible idea but thankfully God had already worked it out for us.  The Little Stars Day-care Centre had to downscale, they were going to let go of 4 staff.  Nurse, who worked at the centre, was one of the staff that they were planning to make redundant.  

She was Megan’s favorite and it all worked out, we offered Nurse the job and she happily accepted, her hours were cut and she only had to take care of 1 child for the same wage.  We were all really happy and most importantly, Megan got healthier.  It was much easier to leave her at home and time moved on.

Stupid Cupid

Apparently having a baby makes you stupid.  Perhaps you have heard the term “porridge brain”?  This refers to the mushy uselessness of your brain while pregnant and for the years to follow.  My theory is that this condition lasts at least two years, from pregnancy to the time your baby is walking and saying a few words.  The “toddler” is a very cute and deceptive name for that time when your baby evolves to a walking bundle of cuteness! 

It is at this time that I was at my most vulnerable.  “Oh she is so cute, we could have another!”   What were we thinking?  Before we knew it we had 2 children under three.  This spells “hard work” for young stupid parents!!!  There was an upside to this bad idea, her name is Jenna.

It was the 23^rd December 1999, Megan was a year and three months old.  I was working at a recruitment company and Haydn was with a Medical Aid Firm.  We had a stay at home nanny called (I kid you not) Nurse.