Since becoming a parent, I have noticed the biggest shift in my emotional world. The new role has brought unlimited love and gentleness, but also a somewhat invisible but permanently present fear.
Not exactly the one that my child would scratch their knees or fall from a bike. These are normal parts of childhood, and I am not overly concerned or anxious about them. I am talking about something much deeper. Something that appeared in my life after we moved abroad.
I still remember the feeling of hopelessness when I didn’t know where to find a shop to buy children’s shoes, or having no friends in Finland. I remember the sadness when I didn’t have a name to put in the kindergarten’s questionnaire to whom they can call if they do not reach us as the child’s guardians. I was sitting behind the kitchen table with a pen in my hand and almost crying. Because the fear struck me with the question: “What if something happened to us?”
With this one question, I realised that the ultimate limitation of our expat lives lies within the fact that we, as parents, will be fine and able to provide. If we are fine, the kids are fine too. But if not? What if something happened to us? Grandparents are not available, siblings are far away, and friends are out of reach.
There are my husband and I. What if we got in a car accident? What if we got sick? What if something happened to us?
The power of social networks and close relationships becomes crucial in a crisis. Someone who can bring you food from the grocery shop, pick up your children, or prepare you a noodle soup when needed. This and much more you left behind when moving to the new country.
You can rely on a state and its services in case of a crisis. I am sure that my children (and I) would feel better if someone they know would take care of them in case of need. Not an anonymous institution and its workers, even though I respect and value all child protection services professionals.
But what if something happened to us? Would children move back to Slovakia and live with their grandparents? Would the Finnish state insist they stay in here because this is where they have been growing up? Would they come to a foster care? How would they then maintain contact with their relatives abroad?
You see? Much deeper fear and many questions I have no answers for. I just feel enormously happy to have people in my life nowadays whose names can be written on that paper from kindergarten. After 9 years, we have a network of close ones who mobilise in a situation of crisis. Even if such help is most likely to be short-term, it is hopefully something we can rely on.
If something happened to us, I must believe these people will do everything in their power to protect and provide for our children before someone from our family can. This makes me worry a bit less. As I wrote before, the fear is constantly present and well hidden, but it’s there. Because I know that if something happened to us, our children’s lives would change forever.
