Each night in Sri Lanka we’d watch the turtles surf the shallow waters looking for dinner. With a little bit of concentration and a keen eye you could see them popping their heads up as they rode the waves. Henry Hotdog was getting a little distressed when “everyone else can see them but I can’t” *insert combination whine and pout here*. Our friends took this shot when he finally found one.
I’d heard about the turtles here in Qatar who return to lay their eggs at the same beach each time they are ready to nest. Sometimes they travel for hundreds of miles to get back here. Some believe it’s smell that leads them back to the right place, others feel they follow the earth’s magnetic field to find their way. Many times, due to the turtles lack of landmarks, strong currents, and poor visibility, they rely on pure instinct. Female turtles have been taken by boat and dropped in far flung lands, only to then swim thousands of miles to make it back to familiarity. Just in time to waddle their way along the same stretch of beach and begin digging their nests.
G asked the manager at the Sri Lankan turtle conversation centre we visited “why do they come back to the same place?” He wasn’t entirely sure when he answered. “Maybe safety?”
I wanted to suggest that they sit with a group of expectant expat mothers, I think then they may begin to understand why. The magnetic pull to home has never been stronger.
The first little traveller was born in Australia. We were living in Indonesia at the time and I knew I wanted to be home for my first. But when the second little traveller was due to arrive, like many expat women, I realized it was a very long swim to make with a toddler on my back. Unlike a turtle, I had others to consider, a husband who obviously wanted to be around for the process, and my first little turtle who had her own life going on.
On the evening before the second little traveller’s birth, I sat in an unfamiliar hospital room in Malaysia wondering if I’d made the right decision. G had gone home to gather supplies and like many pregnant woman before me I suddenly changed my mind. I have a friend who stood up mid labour and announced she was going home “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to do this anymore”. When we talk I only have to utter the words “I’ve changed my mind…” and we’ll both giggle hysterically.
What I hadn’t bargained for was how I would feel after the event. That Kuala Lumpur was no longer just a location that we’d lived in, it was now the birthplace of my child. More than a name on a birth certificate, it now encapsulated everything in those few few days when our family changed forever. The flowers, the visits from friends, the drive home – all of it now interwoven with a time in another place.
When the third little traveller announced his surprise arrival with the onset of morning sickness and a vague memory of a very big night at the British Embassy in Libya, I began to map out a way home. I had a small problem, one that even the best cartographer couldn’t help me with. I had too many young turtles under the age of two to legally navigate my way home on my own. We headed to Mediterranean waters. The third little traveller is inexplicably proud of his Maltese origins, and I have to agree with him. We all fell in love with Malta in that time of our lives. The entire experience for many reasons, has its own permanent piece of real estate in my heart.
When the fourth little traveller told me the other day that he hopes to marry a Canadian, I didn’t have to ask why. As a family we all talk of Canada with the kind of melancholy that comes when you leave fabulous friends, snow capped mountains, and a number of first of the firsts behind you. Our first house purchase, our first visit from the tooth fairy, our first Christmas away from home. It was a fellow mother from the first little traveller’s kindergarten class who delivered him. “It’s a boy” she squealed, knowing that his brothers and sisters were all at home with fingers and toes firmly crossed that it was a new brother coming their way.
When I sat and watched our Sri Lankan turtles bobbing up and down I wondered how they differed from the Qatari turtles at home. How different would the process be? The waters were surely calmer and warmer here in Qatar, as opposed to the surf and reef on the coast in Sri Lanka. What was it that made them keep coming back? Making the trek home.
Sometimes if we can ignore the magnetic field, the tug and the pull, we can surprise ourselves with how much like home so very far away can feel.
I’m not a mum – but as I read your words, you nevertheless draw
NOSTALGIA out of my ever pore!!! Living away, the richest and hardest
thing of all is that we do make multiple homes – and can never again
collect all the places and people we love in one room.
Sending you sunny alpine greetings from a day which is causing me to want to yodel like Heidi,Ali of the Alps 🙂
What a rich mix of cultures you have just in your little brood. Fabulous.
I love this and I completely understand! I was also living in Indonesia but on Borneo in the little oilfield town of Balikpapan when the first was expected so I went home to have her. The second was born in Paris but not before a trip home just a couple of months before her birth because I woke up one morning and HAD TO GO HOME. I wrote about it here. http://bit.ly/16UmVAQ
My Dad was in the Navy when I was born in Cuba. My husband was in the Army when our daughter was born in Texas. Neither of those places are home. But the pull is still there.
I love this post. Although it has always been very good, your writing seems to be getting even better. I guess practice does make perfect. I hope the fourth little traveller gets to marry a Canadian!
Thanks Darlene, that means a lot. xx
Exactly. G and I are hoping that one day we can take everyone back to where it all began. One day…
Stacy, I am willing to bet that we have mutual friends. Balikpapan was home for a few close buddies of mine. Heading over to your post now.
As I start to prepare to move back to Australia for a couple of years before venturing to New York for the next stint I have this gentle tug on my heart. You have explained it so well, I am taking my daughter from her birth place, from the best memories that my husband and I have together. Bringing her home, first smile, laugh, roll, crawl, steps! That is what I will cry about when we leave. Thanks for the post x
My eldest turtle turned 18 last month . She was born in Bangkok . We have just returned from a long weekend of revisiting all those baby places ……so so lovely . I cried most of the time ….both then and now but for different reasons x x
Mine was born youngest was born at home, in our home in Wales. We finally sold that home after 9 years of not living there, but there is something special about driving by, pointing to a window and saying “you were born THERE’. She has an American accent, a Kenyan school transcript and but when asked where she comes from, she grabs a picture of a former vicarage and points to the middle window on the second floor.
This post moved me so much… we are about to move countries for the first time and while we are done (probably) having children, I can totally relate. What an amazing journey your family has been on (and it still on!) and how wonderful for your children to have these memories and for your heart to be attached to these different corners of the world.
Sitting in Singapore pregnant with #2 I know exactly how you (and the turtles) feel. The decision has been made that logistically, it’s too hard to go home to have this baby. Too disruptive for our toddler, impossible for my husband to take the amount of time off that would be required and too much for me to handle on my own. In my heart I knew this but have suggested every possible way and a few outlandish ideas to make going home possible. The posting to Singapore itself hasn’t gone smoothly so I hope that in time we are able to appreciate this country as the place our beautiful second child was made and born, and not just a work assignment. For the first time I am now looking at things differently, so thank you.