Here's to the chaos of two kids under two.

Not long ago I was at a child’s birthday party. They had a serve yourself buffet lunch and as I tried to dish my plate while stopping my one year old from running off and unpacking all the ice and drinks from the esky I thought ‘how will I do this when I have a newborn?’ Seriously how do people manage two? (or more??) Surely you need two hands for one child?

As I emerge from the dark cloud of pregnancy sickness, I have started to contemplate life with two kids – a newborn and a one year old. Let me start by saying I am so excited to be having another one. The desire to have a second filled my heart almost the exact day my daughter was born. I remember a few months into her life when I was discussing pregnancy sickness with a friend she asked if I would ever do it again. And I said, "yes. I don’t know how, but I know I will.” And as my daughter grew and I saw how much she loved growing up with other kids I started to desire a brother or sister for her. Someone for her to play with the moment they both woke up, someone to fill our home with even more laughter. I have known, since my daughter was born, that our family was not complete, that there was someone we are still going to meet, someone who was missing.

But as it draws nearer I’ve realised I’m also a little scared about just how much life is going to change with two. And, though I think few people would realise it, for me becoming a mother of two feels bigger, or at least just as big, as when I became a mum for the first time. It feels bigger because in some ways one can fit into your preexisiting life. You can still meet a friend for a coffee (though admittedly it is getting harder now I have a toddler), you can still work and pay for childcare and come home with a profit, you can get a break during nap times, you can still do shopping because you only have to stop one child jumping out of the trolley, you can ask someone to mind them or leave them with your partner and take some time for yourself.

There’s so many things I’m scared of about having two. Some relate to the practicalities of day to day life. Like how do you clean the highchair and get out of the house when you have a demanding toddler and a crying newborn? How do you stop your life descending into chaos when you have a toddler that unpacks everything in the house, but you can’t pick everything up because your hands are full with a newborn?

And some relate to much a deeper fear of losing myself. Of losing who I was before I had kids. Of realising that I will be off work for much longer than I originally thought. Of putting dreams, like finishing my Masters, on hold. Of wondering if being a mum is ‘enough’ for me.  Of not having time for the things I need to do for me. Of forgetting my goals.

And there’s a third fear, which is perhaps more of a grief than a fear. And that is the grief that my one-on-one time with my daughter is coming to an end and that I will never have that same one-on-one time with my second child. Newborn days cuddled up on the couch breastfeeding. Knowing that this time around the cuddles will be so different – much less quiet, much less calm, likely to be either disrupted to stop my toddler jumping off the back of the couch or disturbed by her climbing on my head. In truth I love having one child. And before I had one, I don’t think I realised just how much one child can fill up your house and your heart.

I have beautiful memories of the newborn days with my daughter – time just the two of us. I do have a sadness that I wont have the same one-on-one time with my second as I have had with my first. I shared this with a friend, who is a mum of three, and she said, “the reality is that they are born into a different place in the family. For all the lack of one-on-one time they have with you they have so much love and colour and noise and life around them, it’s just simply different. They don’t know anything else and I have to say they are happier babies because of it. You will enjoy it too, all in a completely new way”. And I know that by having two my kids are not missing out on anything. That it is my grief and not theirs, that what they will gain is so much more than the attention they will lose from me.

I actually had a similar grief when we moved from a family of two to a family of three. Not straight away, but almost a year later when I was looking at photos of a friend’s travel with her husband. I realised that holidays will never be the same for us again. Well at least not for the next 15 – 20 years. And I felt strangely jealous, of her time, of two complete weeks just with her husband, of a season of life that I loved but that has past. I hadn’t realised that by adding something to our life, we’d have to say goodbye to something else.

And that is what we’re doing now, adding another life and more laughter to our family. But, it is rarely acknowledged that this means saying goodbye to something else. Saying goodbye to our family of three.

So, to process this, I’ve turned to the trusty internet. And I’ve found so many mums that have written things that have really encouraged me. Here are two of my favourite blogs about having two children:
www.scarymommy.com/the-day-i-fell-in-love-with-having-two/

www.ramshackleglam.com/2015/07/30/the-post-i-wish-id-read-before-having-my-second-child/

These posts, and others I have read, have addressed my exact fears, so I’ve learnt that I’m not the only mum who has these thoughts before baby number two arrives. So, because I haven’t got to the end of this story yet, because I don’t know what life will be like with two, I’ll end with words from Jordan Reid’s blog:

"...I don't feel like my attention is split...I feel like it's fuller, somehow. They say you don't just have "space" in your heart for more than one child, but that your heart actually grows with each baby...and it's true. 

And finally, there's this: life starts to feel like it's running more smoothly when a child grows older,  and of course the fact that he or she is more mature is part of it...but it's also because of you. Because you've come into who you are as a parent, and because you know how to be a mother and be part of a family and all those things that you didn't know the first time around. 

Don't underestimate how much you are capable of, or how extraordinary you will be when asked to rise to the challenge of parenting two people who completely hold your heart. 

You will be extraordinary, and you won't regret your choice for one single moment. I promise."

So, I'll hold her to that promise. Here's to the chaos of two kids under two. 

Weaning – How I'm doing it gradually, with love

“How long will you breastfeed for?” Not-so-new mums get asked this all the time. And, though I have actually asked this question myself, I think it is a ridiculous question. It is similar to other questions you may ask like ‘how long till my baby sleeps through the night?’, ‘how long will it take me to get pregnant?’, ‘how long is a piece of string?’. Some questions you can not predict in advance. You can only answer them as you go.

For me, once breastfeeding was established and I overcame some initial hiccups, it became a beautiful and intimate time with my daughter (you can read about my early breastfeeding journey here). I believed I was giving her the best and I was proud of it. I felt it was something I could give her that no one else could.

I followed a baby led weaning approach to introducing foods, which meant that while food was a lot of fun in my house, my daughter wasn’t really eating a lot and breastmilk was very important for her diet. I didn’t work on a schedule, I demand fed around the clock. I fed to comfort her, to put her to sleep, if I thought she might be hungry. I slept with her in my arms and she learnt to feed through the night all by herself. Most of the time I hardly woke up. As she grew bigger and became more active it became the only time we would cuddle and snuggle. Each feed was a treasured time. 

A few days before my daughter turned one I found out I was pregnant with baby number two. Within a few short weeks I was struck down by severe pregnancy sickness and I had to reassess breastfeeding. I became too sick to feed my daughter, too sick to wake up to her at night, I started on medication which is not compatible with breastfeeding, and though I didn’t feel my daughter and I were ready, I started the process of weaning her.

Yes, I had fed her for the first year of her life, and many would say that is a job well done. But I had imagined feeding her for much longer. I had thought I would wait until she self-weaned. In moments of reflection I did feel some guilt for cutting back. I felt I was already compromising the needs of my first born because of my second. That this was the start of my daughter needing to accommodate her little brother or sister – being forced to wait while I care for the baby, sharing her mum with someone else. There is something wonderful about having one, and being able to focus on them completely, to schedule around their nap time, to put all their needs first. And this for me was the first, of what I imagine will be many, compromises. Cutting back on feeding my daughter, so that my body had the energy and strength to grow another baby.

While I didn’t have to completely stop feeding (and at 15 months I still feed my daughter once a day), I knew I needed to reduce the feeds quite quickly. I had thought that breastfeeding would come to a natural stop, but I found I had to be intentional in order to make it happen. Here’s how I did it:

• I started with some reading, because, while there are many different schools of thought, I believe it is always best to arm yourself with some ideas / knowledge and then follow what feels right. One of the philosophies that fits with my parenting style is Pinky McKay’s ‘gradually, with love’. I knew it couldn’t happen overnight, it had to be a gradual process. I also liked the ‘don’t offer, don’t refuse’ approach. Although I found that I really did have to refuse at times because the medication I'm on means I can’t feed during the day.
• Next I started to increase my daughter’s food consumption. When I read about the nutritional needs of a toddler I realised that, though the amount of food she eats is small, her nutritional needs are quite high. I also knew that in order to wean her off night feeds we had to make sure she was eating enough to keep her full. This was a big change of approach for us, because until then she had been completely self fed. For the first time, we pulled out the spoon and started spoon feeding her. Yes, it felt a bit backwards, and was different to the baby led weaning approach we had been taking, but there’s no rules that say you can only follow one approach. Mix and match away. And, I’m proud to say, at 15 months, my daughter is getting very good at spoon feeding herself.
• We weaned to a bottle despite many books recommending that you wean directly to a cup. My daughter can drink from a cup, but I was worried that she wasn’t getting enough. She drunk a lot more from a bottle. At some stage we will have to wean her from the bottle, but for now we took the easiest, quickest approach. Baby steps.
• Mum happened to be staying with us at the time so I took this opportunity. This was really critical as I found that throughout the day if my daughter was with someone else she wouldn’t think about feeding, but if she was with me she’d start pulling at my clothes and trying to feed. With this in mind Mum distracted her, played with her or offered her something else to eat or drink when she wanted to feed. For a few weeks she actually probably spent more time with my mum than with me.
• We transitioned her to sleeping in a cot. This was probably the hardest part, because she had been sleeping full time in our bed. But I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep with her if I wasn’t feeding her through the night. As part of this my husband took the night shift and he became the one to try to settle her every time she woke up. There is often lots of rocking and “shhhing” and singing at bed time, and nap time and through the night if she wakes up, although she has very recently started to sleep through! We’ve read all the sleep books about putting her to bed ‘drowsy but awake’, but that has not worked for us. She does not know how to fall asleep on her own. And sometimes she comes into our bed in the night and sometimes when nothing else works I feed her. For us, it’s two steps forward, one step back. Gradually, with love. We also have broken the sleep book rules because we do give her a bottle if she wakes up in the night and wont settle. The books say that nutritionally she doesn’t need anything and she should be able to get through the night by now. But, when rocking and “shhhhing” don’t work, what is a parent to do?
• All the advice I found said to drop one feed at a time. This was hard for me because I’d never recorded specific feed times and I actually didn’t really know when, or how many times a day, I was feeding my daughter anyway. In the end, I dropped the day feeds and the night feeds fairly quickly, over about 3 weeks. I kept feeding her first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening, until we replaced the evening with a bottle a month or so later. Advice I’ve read seems to consistently say that once you drop a feed you can’t go back, though I am yet to find a source that explains why. I assume it’s because it could confuse the baby. Well, I’ve been guilty of dropping a feed and going back. When I’ve been alone with Nala, when I’ve been too sick and tired to take the distract approach, when nothing else has worked to get her to sleep, there have been times that I have taken the easy option and fed her, because in the moment, it was what we both needed. Two steps forward, one step back.

So, now we’re down to one feed a day, the moment my daughter wakes up in the morning. Over the last few months this feed has been a lifesaver for me. As my daughter wakes me up each morning I pick her up from her cot and pull her into bed with me. She feeds and often falls back to sleep. And it buys me some more sleep, when I’ve been exhausted and sick and desperately needing it. Still, I've hit nursing aversion (which is common in pregnancy) and the time is very nearly here to drop this feed and then our breastfeeding relationship will be over. Yes, I’ll do it all again with my next baby, but it wont be the same. Because it wont be with her. And I wonder, on the morning I give her her last feed, will I know it is going to be the last one?

Finishing breastfeeding is just another marker of my daughter’s babyhood slipping away. I felt it when she started to walk, when she stopped snuggling while she was awake, when she turned one, when we sent her for her first sleepover at Gogo’s house. But as the baby stage disappears something else emerges. It is the stage of her following me around the house with a broom as I sweep the floor, her clapping her hands to congratulate herself when she gets a piece in a puzzle, her replying to every dog we pass by saying ‘woof, woof', her learning new things every day. Letting go of something, makes room for something new. Our big girl, our toddler, our soon-to-be big sister.

How to Survive Pregnancy Sickness

Last time I was pregnant I said to my husband (multiple times I believe), ‘don’t let me remember how sick I am, or I’ll never do this again’. In July this year I was alone at a restaurant on a Friday night, catching up on work, when all of a sudden I felt sick, I rushed to get the bill and just made it home in time to start vomiting. When I wasn’t feeling better two days later I took a test and sure enough, two pink lines appeared. Pregnant.

Unfortunately I am one of those people who suffers from completely debilitating and unrelenting sickness when I’m pregnant. When I tell people I’m expecting they normally act like I’ve won the lottery. And I feel like I’m trapped on a rocking boat, seasick for months. Last time I was worried because I felt the sickness was stopping me bond with my baby, but this time, I know, the bonding will come. Once the nausea lifts, and my belly grows, and my baby starts moving, and we find out the gender, and we give him or her a name. It will happen. I know.

Before I had experienced this I might have thought the joy of carrying a life inside me would help me overcome the sickness. That I would be sick, but so blissfully happy, that the sickness would be insignificant. Yet nothing could be further from the truth. 

In my experience, pregnancy sickness is misunderstood, not taken seriously, and it goes on and on and on. The length of time is probably what I find hardest to cope with. With my last pregnancy whole seasons passed.

I don’t need advice from people. Three pregnancies in and I’ve tried it all – from acupuncture to ginger tea. The only thing that stopped the vomiting for me is medication. While I would love to take a natural approach to pregnancy, I am extremely grateful that I live in a time and place where medication is available. I resisted so much in my last pregnancy. I put off taking it for as long as possible and took a very low dose. But there’s no medal at the end for doing pregnancy drug free. And there are a lot of things to consider. Taking the medication means I can be a better mum to my toddler, it means I’m less likely to get depressed from months and months of sickness, it means I can get out of bed. Sometimes we have to make trade offs and choose what is least bad.

But there is no magic fix. Sometimes I take the medication and I still feel awful. It always wears off by the afternoon. Evenings, nights and mornings are the worst for me. I can’t cook, and don’t know what to eat.

With each pregnancy I believe I have got better at managing the sickness. The first time it hit me it was such a shock, I had no plan in place, I tried to continue with normal life, I found myself vomiting in bins and public toilets. But I tried to be a hero, I believed I could push through, I made excuses and tried to hide it, I believed we shouldn’t tell people I was pregnant till 12 weeks. It was the worst time of my life. Even though we lost that pregnancy, not telling people did me no favours. It meant I was unsupported and alone, through both a difficult pregnancy and a heart breaking loss.

With my next two pregnancies we’ve shared it earlier with family and friends, we’ve told people that I’m sick, I’ve explained to people what this sickness means (no, I can’t just meet you at the coffee shop, I can’t just pop in and buy milk from the garage, I can’t get a meal out of the freezer…), and I’ve had a lot more support.

This is where I need to give a public shout out to my mum, who rearranged her entire life to spend 5 weeks looking after me and my daughter in South Africa. There are many special people in my life, but none who will bend over backwards for me in the way my mum does. I’m 30, but time hasn’t changed this. If I need her, she makes a plan to be there. And when she left, members of our church cooked meals for us. These were such an incredible lifesaver. This support, and not trying to continue life as normal, has made this pregnancy my most positive one yet.

But, though I am grateful for so much support, it is a lonely journey. No one can do these hard days for me. And while, it takes a village to raise a child, it can only ever take one woman to carry one.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for. And I know it will be worth it. But in the moment it is hard. And night after night as I lie on the couch feeling so sick, I tell my husband that I don’t think I can do this. To be sick for such a long time can be overwhelming and depressing. So, to pick me up, he took a week off work and took me to a beach house. It was exactly what I needed. And I am hopeful that the worst is behind me and that the clouds will lift soon. And until they do, each night I tell myself that I can get through tomorrow. And then the next day. And I’ll make it to the end like that. One. Day. At. A. Time.

If you are pregnant and experiencing something similar, here are my tips to you (based on what helped me):

• Take the medication (Zofran). Don’t feel guilty, it doesn't make you a bad mum.
• Don’t feel down because your friend / sister / everyone else seemed to breeze through pregnancy and you can’t get out of bed. Everyone experiences pregnancy symptoms differently, some people have almost no nausea, others end up in hospital. It’s not a reflection on you, or your strength.
• Tell people close to you that you are pregnant and sick. Explain what the sickness means. Most people don’t understand it and have no idea.
• Stay away from things that are ‘triggers’ for you. For me it’s supermarkets, malls, garages, cafes, the kitchen, the fridge / freezer, food cooking, the car etc.
• Be proactive in making life as easy as you can. For example we have ordered frozen meals for this time so no one has to cook in our house. If friends and family can help you out that's great, but it is also ok to get paid help. We've temporarily got someone cleaning our house because, though our house is small, I often struggle to get dressed.
• Know that it will pass, that in the scheme of your whole life it is a short period of time, and that once it is over you will have a special child in your life to love forever. They will be beautiful and smiley and cuddly and fun. And, without doubt, worth everything we go through for them.

Nala's Smash Cake

So to mark the occasion for our little 1 year old I made her her own cake, to do as she pleased – to throw and smash and play and eat. I love the idea of a smash cake, because it is the perfect way to involve a 1 year old in their birthday cake (and, of course the photos!). Otherwise let’s be honest, the first birthday cake is for the guests, not the birthday girl/boy.

We did it at home, when it was just my husband and I, which was much easier and made for much better photos than trying to snap a few pics during her party. Something I have learnt about photos is that to get good photos you have to be intentional about it – set aside time, set up the space, do it when there is good light etc. Otherwise I find we end up with blurry or dark photos with messy backgrounds.   

The cake:

I looked for a sugar free cake option, because I haven’t introduced my daughter to sugary foods yet. I had a few people make comments about me being mean or not even letting my daughter eat cake on her birthday. But my daughter has a lifetime of sugar ahead of her, I’m just trying to delay is as long as I can. And though some foods might seem bland to us, for her new foods, tastes and textures bring plenty of excitement.

I tested two sugar free cake recipes, though one tasted much better than the other, so I’ll only share that one. I was actually very impressed by how tasty this cake was.

I found this recipe for ‘Little Punkins’ in ‘What to Expect, the Toddler Years’. It’s a muffin recipe, but I made it into a cake. I didn’t follow the recipe exactly, so here is what I did:

¼ cup coconut oil

2 whole eggs

1 egg white

1 cup raisins

1 ¾ cup apple juice concentrate

1 cup mashed pumpkin

1 ½ cups self raising flour

½ cup wheat germ

• Preheat over to 180 degrees. Grease cake tin.
• Beat oil and eggs in bowl.
• Chop raisins with apple juice in blender. Add pumpkin and blend. Fold pumpkin mixture into the egg and oil mixture
• Add flour and wheat germ
• Pour into cake tin and cook until a knife inserted into the cake comes out clean (I cooked the mixture in two halves to make thin cakes which I stacked on top of each other).

For the icing I used cream cheese and a little apple juice, whipped for a few minutes with an electric beater.

The photos:

This was the difficult bit. I’ve made many a cake in my life, but I’m not much of a photographer at all, so photographing a toddler and a cake was a challenge to me. I needed to think about lighting and the set up and nap times.

We wanted to start straight after nap time. I iced the cake and got it ready while Nala was asleep. But first Nala had to have lunch (no point trying to photograph a hungry toddler), then a bath and hair wash, then we decided we needed a white sheet on the floor to create a good background, so off I headed to the shops. We borrowed a friend’s camera that we’d never used before and at first we couldn’t get the photos to come out clearly, so we played around with the settings a bit and the next thing I know we’ve got a tired, grumpy toddler on our hands. I actually wanted to push on, put the cake in front of her and see what she does. It was already 3pm on a wintery day and the natural light I was relying on was not far from fading.

But, tired toddlers progress to very quickly into ‘hold-on-to-mummy’s-leg’ toddlers, so it was off to bed for little Nala, dressed in her tutu. We restarted around five, with Nala as her best, happiest self, and we used the flash on the camera to make up for the lack of natural light.

Did she like the cake?

Well at first she was most interested in pulling the bunting and princess decorations off. And then she slowly and cautiously started dipping into the icing with her fingers. She didn’t dive in like I’ve seen other babies do online, instead she seemed curious as to what it was. I think it’s fair to say she was a run away birthday girl though – while she was interested in tasting the cake, she was more interested in running towards us and trying to grab us and the camera. She was very intrigued by the fact that our living room had turned into a set, the camera and the decorations on the wall. But persist we did and for a few moments here and there we had her sitting behind the cake. And snap away we did. She actually loved the squishy texture of the icing and ended up with it all over her hands, feet, clothes and mouth. She barely tasted the cake underneath, so turns out I could have packed it full of sugar anyway!
The verdict – it was lots of fun and super cute and I’m really happy with how it all turned out. Welcome to the world of cakes, birthday girl!

What a year it has been for all of us. You can read about her first year here.

One.

One year ago today I held my new daughter to my chest. She was wet and red and wrinkly and warm. The room was calm and quiet. I starred at her in awe. She was born at 2:21am in the morning, which meant I had five hours to hold her, before we called the first person to announce the birth. These five hours are so precious to me. As soon as we told people the calls and texts started rolling in, the excitement was shared, but my attention was split. I held her close and looked at my phone. But those five hours were absolute bliss. Just me, my husband and our new daughter. I was completely overwhelmed. (You can read her birth story here).

This morning, my daughter woke up and reached for me, snuggled in and started feeding, as she does every morning. It was a cold morning, yet we were warm and snuggly, alone and close. I was wide awake so I starred at her. She’s so big now. Yet she still needs me so much. She reaches for me every time she stirs in the night. And again I felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by just how blessed I am. Overwhelmed because I love her more than I knew I could. I am often overwhelmed by her – by her cuteness, by her new tricks, by how fast she is growing and changing.

Now, she is one. One. No longer a baby. At this stage she is big and little at the same time. She is friendly, affectionate (lots of cuddles and open mouth kisses), loves music, moves her body and dances when she hears it, is great at clapping and waving, is truly loving life. It is very important to her to never be still, to not let go of something she is holding. If she is upset she throws her hands in the air, arches her back and screams. She can be very dramatic. Loves playing peekaboo and has just started covering her face with a blanket and popping out. She loves feeding other people, brushing my teeth while I brush hers. She feeds herself oats every morning with a preloaded spoon, she has just started (and absolutely loves) drinking rooibos tea (she must truly be a South African girl). If anyone laughs, she does too. She makes sure she laughs the biggest, as if to show she is included in the joke and knows exactly what is going on. Loves it when we sing songs to her. She doesn’t like shoes and even when it is freezing cold she pulls them off her feet. At the supermarket she always tries to climb out of the trolley seat. Actually she tries to climb everything – out of her high chair, up the burglar guards at home. She is into everything and loves unpacking things. I find bits and pieces in all kinds of places all over the house. She is a true delight and just like her middle name, full of joy.

She really has rushed through life so far. The day she turned 10 months she took her first steps and started acting in every possible way like a toddler. It seems like no time ago I was teaching her to lift her head of the ground in tummy time. Now she is literally running, at full speed, towards the future.

And what a year it has been for me. I have learnt so so much. Yet I still have so much to learn. I became a mother, and then had to create myself as a mother. I had to work out what type of mum I want to be. I became a breastfeeding, cosleeping, half working / half stay-at-home mum, who doesn’t mind my daughter getting dirty but doesn’t know how to get her clothes clean. 

And the year for me has been split into different seasons – the newborn awe stage in Australia (0-3 months), the family time stage when we first came to South Africa (3-8 months) and the finding my feet as a mum stage (8-12 months). Though I panicked at the thought of my husband going back to work and I didn’t want our extended holiday to end, it was the third season that allowed me to really step into life as a mum, find my mummy village and bond with my daughter in a new way, taking ownership of her routine and days. 

It took me a while to find my mummy village. Though I have lots of friends with kids they are all different ages or live in different places. I did search for my mummy village – I joined Mums and Babes and postnatal yoga, and though I met lots of lovely mums, I didn’t connect with them on a deep level. But then 2 months ago, myself and a couple of mums from my church started a mums group, and something special happened. Mums popped up from everywhere to join and we instantly and deeply clicked. Some were new faces for me, some were old friends, some were friends who I didn’t know that well. And it is becoming a group that is so much more than a once a week catch up. Special connections and doing life together. Because being a mum is not easy, especially when living away from family, but having a mummy village does make it a little bit (a lot) more lovely. Mums need each other, for the first year, and well beyond.

It’s overwhelming how much has changed in the last year. I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to this year – the first year of my daughter’s life. I’m not even sure I’m ready for the next one. But we cannot pause time, so instead I’m approaching the next year with the same excitement my daughter is – running head first into it with lots of laughter. Incredibly grateful for life and making fun wherever we are. Happy birthday beautiful one.

As a little family celebration we made a smash cake, which you can read about here.

Behind the Scenes of A Mixed Race Family - Our Story

Originally published as a guest post on 3 Kids, 2 Dogs, 1 Old House

Our story started with us both chasing a dream. He was a South African Zulu musician singing his way around Australia with his choir and I was a young Australian organising his tour, dreaming of travelling and volunteering in Africa. I followed that dream and we reconnected in Durban, South Africa. I thought he was weird for always calling me, but eventually he charmed me and I warmed to him and a deep friendship started.

He taught me to speak Zulu and all about South Africa. Night after night we’d stay up late while I tried to perfect saying ‘x’ and ‘cha’ and day by day I came to trust him and see a man who was wise, gentle and strong. I became very drawn to him and an intense relationship grew. We went into this relationship knowing that we had a lot to learn, that we would have to be patient with each other and that misunderstandings and cultural differences would happen. Though now we have created our own culture, and I forget about culture and colour on a day to day basis, starting with this awareness was helpful. I knew our relationship and path would be different than if I was with a white guy, and I embraced it for all that it was.

Early on our relationship was wrapped in cultural misunderstandings. I wanted to go to his house. For me this helped me ‘place’ him, understand where he came from, and know his family. I invited myself many times before he finally let me come. When I got there his mum didn't speak to me and I sat on the couch. I later found out that’s not how relationships are done in his culture, that it wasn’t appropriate at all, that there was a specific process to follow before I ‘came into’ his home. Luckily for me, his mum is open minded and has given me grace for being the ‘clueless white girl’ and for all the misunderstandings since. Over time, she warmed to me and we started to understand each other, through my broken Zulu, her broken English and a lot of quality time. I stayed in her home for two months before we got married and three months since we got married. I got to know her well through these times, because our connection was not limited to words. Time, and lots of it, and being in the same house, seeing how things were done, helped me to know her, when words and conversation did not.

Early on I told a friend of mine that I thought I would marry him. I knew I was willing to ride the waves with him, and though I didn’t know what lay ahead I knew that very few things would make me walk away. At the time it felt crazy, a little extreme. I was only in South Africa for a few months. I was a volunteer with no money to my name. We came from opposite sides of the world, different cultures, different backgrounds, different languages. I couldn’t see how it could work. I wasn’t planning to stay in South Africa, I couldn’t imagine him in Australia. But he was so confident, and I couldn’t walk away, so he spent the next few years proving to me time and time again that it was possible and it could work.

We’ve lived in both South Africa and Australia together and we’ve faced significant challenges. A real low for us was the two years we spent doing long distance while we tried to get him a visa for Australia. Because he couldn’t get in to Australia, and I didn’t have enough leave from work to come to South Africa, we met in Singapore – half way in between – and he proposed. What followed was a frustrating and slow process full of documents and paperwork. I flew to South Africa and we had a traditional Zulu wedding. A week later I had to kiss him goodbye and leave. It almost broke me. We started our life together, apart. I booked our wedding in Australia and we waited for his visa. It was a tiny piece of paperwork, that our lives depended on. He got it and arrived in Australia only 3 weeks before our (second) wedding.

Race plays almost no role in our relationship. When we started dating it was a big deal, but as we created our life and a home together I started to forget. I do not look at him as a ‘black man’, in the same way that I don’t look at my blonde haired friend as a ‘blonde’, it’s not what defines her to me. Yes, I know he is black, but it’s not something I think about every day. I think of him as my husband, and within our own home our colour differences are so normal that we don’t notice them or think about them.

Early on we had a few comments, although they were mostly positive. I remember our dentist said that we were ‘changing South Africa’ and a few times while on holidays my husband was mistaken for being my driver. But over the years I’ve learnt that marriage is deep and long and what happens in your house and behind closed doors is much more important than what others think or say. At our Australian wedding our Pastor told us ‘your strength is in your difference’. It’s a truth that has stuck with us and something I’ve reminded myself of many times.

Both our families are open and supportive of our marriage and we have a great relationship with both. But many times I’ve seen the way our families struggle to embrace each other as family. They want to, and they try so hard, but they are divided by distance, language and culture. I’ve seen the way when our mothers get together they struggle to communicate. I’ve seen cultural difference after difference. I’ve seen the way my mum has tried so hard to get to know my mother in law. But the only way she knows how to do it is through an Australian lens, to make conversation and ask questions. On the other hand, when my mother in law has hosted my family at her home she has cooked and served food and left her guests to enjoy their dinner without her. My mum wants to talk, my mother in law wants to serve and be a good host and respectfully let her guests eat. I can see my mum doesn’t know why she is ignoring them and leaving them alone, my mother in law doesn’t know why my mum is following her into the kitchen asking questions. I can see the awkwardness, and I understand enough to know what is going on, but I’ve struggled to know how to help them overcome it. Sometimes I feel sad that our families can’t be together as one big family and that there are some very real barriers. Other times I am grateful that my husband and I have a good relationship with both. We are more than half way there.

Last year our daughter was born. She really lights up our lives. She was born in Australia but we chose to move to South Africa when she was 11 weeks old. Long term we want to live in Australia because economically it will be better for us, but short term we want to be here because we want her to know her culture and learn Zulu. Ideally we would have done this extended holiday when she was a bit older (2 or 3) but our work and circumstances allowed us to leave Australia last year so we decided to take the opportunity.

The main response we have had to our daughter is that she is very beautiful. People tell us over and over that she is the most beautiful baby they have ever seen. I know I am biased, but I am often overwhelmed by her cuteness. It’s not because she is mixed race, it’s because she is half me and half the man I love, and because she is full of smiles.

In South Africa we are part of a small, but very close, mixed race community. We have created enduring friendships with other mixed race families. When I see my daughter playing with the other kids it is nice to see her fit so well. I can see that they really are her people. I know that when we eventually move back to Australia her friends and cousins will be different from her. And I know we will miss this community of families who are just like us.

My biggest fear of parenting a mixed race, international child is that one day she will do what I’ve done to my parents – run away overseas and leave me. For now, while she’s little I hold her as much as I can. My biggest sadness is that she will always be away from one side of her family, from one of her grandmothers, that though there are good things about living in each country she will never be able to have both at the same time, that she will always be missing something. It’s what we signed up for when we started a journey that straddles two continents, but over time I feel it more, rather than feeling it less. And practically, my biggest concern is (though I LOVE mixed race hair) that I won’t know how to care for her big and crazy hair. But I have learnt so much already in this mixed race journey, I no doubt will learn that too.

Never be this loved again – the velcro baby days

As Nala clings to my leg, standing, wobbling on her feet, her total trust in me not to move a millimeter and I try to cook dinner without moving, I remember something I saw that said ‘you will never be this loved again’. And I know it. I have to know it. I remind myself of it 1000 times a day, when her love for me feels suffocating, when I find myself lunging across the kitchen to reach for a spoon to avoid moving the leg my daughter is attached to. It is, I am sure, the age, a stage, a phase. But honestly I hope it doesn’t last too long. I cannot put her down, from the moment she wakes up, until she sleeps. And even when she sleeps, she sleep in my arms. If I try to put her down she holds on so tight, lifts her legs off the floor, and cries.

I can see what has happened. Our little 10 month old has learnt to walk. She moves so quickly she is basically running. But though physically she can move around independently, emotionally she is not ready. Physically she can run – but only if it is to me, never away. I can sense the mixed emotions inside her – her excitement of finding her feet, her surprise at realising she is independent, and her fear of moving away.

So many things I used to do without thinking are now a daily struggle. Do you know how many steps you take each time you make the bed? If not, lucky you. Try doing it while either carrying a wriggly 10kgs or with one leg stuck in one spot!

I'm the only one who experiences this side of her. The minute her daddy is home, she rushes to the door and greets him, cuddles and hangs out with him for a while and then sits happily on the floor and plays with her toys! Whenever others are around she plays with them or on her own. Her 'don't put me down' personality is something she saves especially for when she's alone with me.

Nala has always been a very easy baby. Never unsettled, nearly always happy to chill in her bouncer or on her playmat or with her toys, friendly to everyone, able to be taken everywhere. So I didn’t expect this. But 10 months has been the most challenging age so far for me.

It’s challenging because for many years how I feel about my day has come from how productive I have been. How many items I’ve crossed off my to do list. And it is generally much harder to get things done at the moment. I’ve realised I need to detangle my self-worth from my productivity. I need to start going to bed feeling good about myself even if I have done nothing except keep my daughter alive that day. I need to realise that that in itself is a successful day. I need to change the way I measure a successful day. 

So today I’m counting my success by the number of tears (none so far), the length of the cuddles and how many funny faces my daughter can copy (plenty). With this as my criteria, I declare the day a success.

I’m starting to read up on attachment, separation anxiety and clinginess, but I still know very little. What I do know though is that babies do things for a reason. That right now she obviously has a need for me. And as her mother it is my job to meet that need. Over and over. It’s my job to put aside my to do list, hard as it, and sit on the floor and play blocks. Because that’s what she needs. And even when her affection for me feels suffocating, I remind myself, I will never be this loved again. And I choose to treasure these (sometimes trying) moments.  

I would love to hear from other parents – how long can I expect this to last? And what can I do to ease it in the meantime? Would some new and exciting toys help? She used to enjoy in her toys but doesn’t seem that interested at the moment. Any other tips or ideas?

(This is an image and quote I saw somewhere ages ago, but it's one of those images that really stuck in my mind and that I have recently been reminding myself of).