A thousand miles...

It's a brand new year, but I haven't felt like writing much lately. My thoughts and emotions have been all over the place, and so has my writing. I start a new post only to end up deleting it as I can't seem to reach a focal point, or a conclusion to any thread of thought.

There's so much going on at the moment, mostly centered around Liam's health and his impending surgery, which I'm not looking forward to, as well as my parents' upcoming visit next month, which I am so looking forward to. But underneath all that is also this all-encompassing sadness that I can't quite seem to shake off.

Sadness for having missed out on Christmas and New Year's Eve with my family and friends back home. Sadness that Chinese New Year is just around the corner and Liam won't have the experience of being surrounded by a loud, noisy chaotic family, being doted on by aunts and uncles and running around with cousins munching on CNY cookies while collecting angpaus (red packets) from relatives. And mostly, sadness that he'll turn one in March, but everyone who loves and care for him and would have wanted to celebrate his birthday with him lives a thousand miles away. His surgery will be scheduled for right after he turns one, and I want him to be able to start his second year of life surrounded with so much love it'll protect him through anything. 

Perhaps I'm being silly. My maternal instincts have been on full protection mode this month, and I would take on all his pain if I could, but I can't. The only thing I can do for my baby is to surround him with love and affection and family everyday. But as it is, all he has are my husband and I, and I know that we're all he truly needs, but still I can't help but feel sorry for my little man because I know what he's missing out on, even if he doesn't.

I may have grown up an only child, but I used to look forward to visiting my grandparents on weekends and playing with my eight or nine cousins who'd all make the trip there the same time. Celebrations were always filled with family, food, noise, laughter, arguments and so much chatter you never know who to listen to at any one time. I still look back on those times with fondness, and wish more than anything that Liam won't grow up lonely.

I know he doesn't know any better - perhaps I'm merely projecting my own loneliness on to him - but there are days when I can't help but wonder how I can make a life for him here when I barely have one myself. In Auckland and in KL I was able to settle quickly. I made friends through work. We have family and such good friends in both countries. We went out and met people and did things. We loved our home and knew where we belonged. 

These days the only people I meet are other expats, lovely as they are. I no longer have work to help me assimilate. Nor do we really have family here. And everyday, I walk through the streets of Karlsruhe and feel like a stranger, invisible, and envying the people around me who walk with the confidence of knowing they're where they belong.

Anyway, there's no conclusion to this post really (I did warn you). It is merely a reflection of my thoughts and feelings these past weeks. Mostly I try to keep myself busy, and bury my nose in the epic saga that is the 'A Song of Fire and Ice' series that my husband bought me for Christmas whenever I don't have to take care of Liam.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still thankful we are here. And ironically enough, the whole reason why we're even here is FOR Liam. He may be missing out on much at the moment, but he's getting the most important thing he needs, the best medical care we can possibly give him and for that I couldn't be more grateful.

And deep inside I know it'll get better. As an expat, there will always be things back home you inevitably miss. There's no way around it. You've once known a different life and you'll always have certain expectations. But some days you have to hit rock bottom before you can make your way back up, and I suppose it's only fitting that I feel this way at this time of year...

... For 'in the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer'.