The Brit Mama With A Maple Leaf Caught In Her Hair

Becoming a mum away from a good cup of tea, biscuit and her tribe.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I want to read a person’s story and other times I just want to listen to their voice. I get it! That’s why I’ve also created an audio version of this blog. Enjoy them both! Flic x

In life, we have our choices, options, dreams and hopes. 

We also have life-altering experiences, just like that time that I popped down the pub after work for a quick pint with a mate and then met a lovely Canadian bloke. 

Fast forward five years later, I had fallen in love, married and packed up my bags, declaring, "Darling, let's try living in Canada before we have a family". 

In all honesty, I thought I'd get off the plane, have lunch and then six months later, jump back on a flight and settle down in the UK, safe and sound in the knowledge that I had tried living in another country. 

Cue romantic visions of rose-covered cottages and raising my future brood in the Cotswolds near the comfort of my parents, all whilst drinking tea and eating hobnobs off Cath Kidston plates.

Yes? 

Not a bloody chance. Make way for a few plot twists. 

It turns out that emigrating to a new country can be tough on the soul and the sanity levels. I don't know why I ever thought it would be easy? 

I spent the first six months trying unsuccessfully to get into my professional field of work of hospital play therapy. When I thought, get on with it, you'll go home soon, I opted for a rewarding contract working with autistic children. 

This kept me busy, but it didn't distract me from all those common experiences of being a new immigrant to a new culture. 

I discovered what it was like to translate foreign terminology constantly. I spent a year with adrenalin continually pumping through my veins as I had to respond to the many new experiences thrown in my face and adapt to new cultural approaches. 

I was learning a new way of life whilst simultaneously 'unlearning' my old life. 

I was essentially losing myself yet growing at the same time. 

I remember feeling lost as I launched myself into making new friends. I also recall laughing at my own jokes whilst my new mates looked on at me puzzled, clearly having no clue what my British comedy references were all about. 

Loneliness as a word doesn't even cut it. The shopping mall became my equivalent of Tom Hanks’ 'Wilson' in Castaway.  

You see, anyone who has moved to live in a new environment, leaving their heritage roots, will probably identify with feeling lost, scared, confused and downright pissed off as they mutter "for fucks sake" under their breath 25 times a day.

After a year, I became pregnant with my first son. I still count my lucky stars that incredible British midwives assisted both my Canadian hospital births. The sheer comfort I got from their soothing accents, asking me to "take my knickers off" as opposed to "remove your underwear", was golden. 

Those ladies were a gift from the gods, as was their perfect post-birth cup of heavenly tea as I held my squeaking newborns. Those little nuggets of comfort will forever be cherished from the bottom of my heart. 

However, slowly but surely, as all new parents experience from time to time, I started to have days when internally I wanted to scream, "how the fuck do I do this?". Except I needed to add in "how the fuck do I do this, here?". 

If my baby was teething, I knew what to buy from Boots the Chemist yet was completely lost at what to grab in the baby aisle of Shoppers Drug Mart. 

I wanted my Mum, I wanted my best mate, I wanted the Marks and Spencer's Food Hall and to drown myself in boxes of Mr. Kipling cakes. 

I wanted everything from back home as I navigated this crazy rough terrain of parenthood. Why did I feel so desperately alone in this despite being married to a really nice bloke? 

I had an aha moment, while listening to a fab podcast chat. Linda Blair, clinical psychologist, author and Daily Telegraph columnist, examines the special relationships between women and believes that back in the day, "Women needed each other to raise children. Children were raised by groups of women. Whereas, the men fought each other to get the best women and the best territories". 

So, no wonder I find myself crying down the phone to a mate, necking back some Shiraz as I ask, "why does my kid act tone deaf when asked to finish his dinner yet he can bloody hear the rustle of a packet of biscuits when I'm alone in the kitchen?" 

Now I realise that it's not that I can't relate to my hubby. Rather I get much more comfort from the connections and wisdom of my female friends. 

I annually make myself watch the film 'The War Bride'. I can relate to the emotions of Anna Friel's character, Lily, a war bride who met a Canadian soldier during the London blitz and then got pregnant, married and moved to Canada. 

This story is a bloody good reminder that women are formidable, and can get through fucking tough situations. Women have always been great at finding their 'tribe' to help them raise their young. 

It's my reminder that life has never been simple. A reminder that others before me have also moved from a geographical place they call home and adapted to living in a place they have to try and make 'homely'. 

I thank the stars for technology. Life away from family and friends is so much bloody easier with modern-day phone and video calls, texts, and emails (even if I do have to navigate different time zones). 

But interestingly, I also have to monitor this potentially destructive obstacle. So the fact of the matter is, your screen can be your best friend, but it can also be your enemy. 

If you're feeling fragile and decide to see what is going on back home, prepare yourself for potential tears. Because, yes, life back home will unfold without you. Cue hefty feelings of guilt as you miss your best mates wedding, the birthday parties, the births, the funerals and the special occasions. This is when your screen becomes a tease as opposed to aid. 

Blair explains that the "amygdala part of the brain needs to know that other humans are around". She suggests we look to evolution and a time when we would sit in our caves with a fresh brew but could not scare those wild animals and enemies alone as we were missing some handy claws and fangs. That's okay; claws and fangs are not the look I'm going for. 

We're programmed to feel safer as part of a group. But since the amygdala has not advanced as fast as technology, it fails to get an ounce of satisfaction from my screen time and the fact that I've 'liked' and commented on a friend's photo. It does not recognise that, in spirit, I'm not alone. 

The amygdala relies on the sense of smell of another human and, more importantly, the reassurance and safety of other humans' touch. Because when that crazy arsed woolly mammoth plods along, my brain needs to know that my mates and I stand a chance of chasing it away with our cackle of laughter as we reminisce over our single days living in those wild city caves. 

No wonder we’ve struggled with recent lockdowns and the impact pandemic isolation has on us.  

So I guess, wherever we are, we are programmed and should try to connect with other like-minded individuals. And alas, it took a while, but this is what I did. 

Today, I stand as a proud mama of two lovely boys. And, I'm proud to have lived to tell the tale of surviving those young parenthood days in a foreign land. 

Yes, I admit to getting very low at points and had some very depressing days. Yes, I'm not ashamed to say I developed some crippling bouts of heart palpating, hot sweat, nauseating & scared shitless anxiety. 

Now, as many expats will agree, my experience has consequently left me feeling like I don't belong anywhere. I no longer feel like the UK is my home as I've outgrown it, and I still won't claim Canada as my home as it's not my comfort zone. 

But what I will claim is that this tough experience has made me grow and evolve in ways I never thought were possible. 

I have some scars, but I also have some kick-ass grit, determination, and independence that screams out to the world that I've changed because I've lived my life. 

So, to all those Mums out there who feel like they are living in a foreign land, whether that be geographically or figuratively, I urge you to hold on tight to your sails. Bob Marley nails it with his words of wisdom "You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only option". 

We're all bloody brilliant, and we WILL survive the storms. 

Keep a lookout for your potential shipmates. Hunt and sniff out a supportive tribe as if it were a Chanel handbag sitting on a jumble sale table. And don't be afraid to lean on them. After all, they may just see your shining potential and strength better than you do yourself! 

Flic x

P.S. If you know a woman struggling with #everydayburnout please send her this article and tell her from me that she is not alone. 

Burnout and feeling as mad as a bag of badgers can really isolate you, and the one true thing I needed on my lowest of low days was to not feel so lonely. 

I see you out there, Sista. Please hold on. It does get better.