“Do you really need to be here?” He asks, knowing all too well that my presence will distract our 17 month old toddler from the morning goal: to eat a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries. He scoops up some oatmeal dribbling from our son’s mouth. Our son gives me a big grin, and I get up from the table and head over to the kitchen before chaos ensues.
Cradling the coffee in my hands, I can’t help but stare at the two and smile. While our son cheerily picks out blueberries from his bowl full of mush, my husband looks a bit annoyed. Mornings are a sacred time for him and our son, the fleeting time he has before work demands all of his attention. He may not get his Papa day, but he will get his quality time every morning. Mornings are his time with his son.
Mornings for me are to sleep in and when I wake up, a time for me to collect my thoughts. Amidst all my happiness, I’m also cognisant that life is a series of choices. And when I choose one path, I closed the door to another. There’s only so much sweetness that we can really taste –there’s also the bitter when it comes to missed chances, lost opportunities, and failed attempts.
When I pursued love instead of medical school, I also opened a floodgate of disapproval and rumors spiraled out of control. Bless my parents’ hearts for bearing the brunt of it among their status conscious peers and equally status conscious offspring. Walls have ears you know. But in-between the juicy gossip, please remember that people have feelings too.
For the official record-I never failed out of medical school. I simply never applied. I followed my soul-mate instead. I certainly made God laugh with my aspirations of medicine. What is in store for my future is between me and the good Lord above, and no one else to judge, ridicule, criticize and mock.
I now know that when my husband and I made the decision to raise our family here, our son would grow up without the loving, regular support of grandparents. We are to raise this child alone and if we wanted to see relatives, it would be on an appointment basis only, made at least 4 – 6 weeks in advance. There would be no built in childcare support network.
I’ll never be a doctor, a leading Health Economic consultant, or earn a PhD to be a Public Health professor.
I’ll never backpack to Macu Picchu without a care in the world, learn how to scuba dive, or sing on pitch.
I may never get to be a true Amsterdam Mama because the city is just simply beyond our affordability as a single-income household.
For the time being, I’ll be resigned to living the majority of the year with dark clouds and the constant threat of rain.
I’m aware of all of this and more.
However, while I’m living the oh-so-glamorous expat life in the Netherlands, I know that happiness is just right in front of me. Happiness really is a choice. Depression, a serious medical condition, is not.
I have a beautiful healthy, absolutely brilliant baby boy and an incredible and gorgeous modern day husband.
We have the most amazing, supportive, inspiring, wonderful set of friends and acquaintances that the universe has kindly bestowed upon us. These will be the “aunts, uncles, and cousins” that my son will grow up with.
I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, more than enough food in the fridge, and clean water to drink.
We have universal health insurance and the privilege of staying at home with my son.
I desperately want to freeze time, to hold this perfect beautiful Wednesday morning and commit it to memory. Fresh tears start pouring down my face because I know that the life I have right now, the one with the charming, highly spirited toddler, is not going to last forever.
And then, as I wipe away those tears, I practice what I argue is the best kept secret for finding happiness in the Netherlands.
Gratitude.
Try it today. I promise it can make you happier. Here’s a video from Soulpancake just in case you still don’t believe me.
