Pregnant, Far from Home

When we moved to Australia, we were newly married — still finding our rhythm as husband and wife, still figuring out what home meant on the other side of the world.
We knew we wanted a family one day, but at that time it felt like a distant dream — something we would think about once things settled. We had just landed in a new country, far from everyone we knew, and my husband had left his job to follow me here. There was excitement, yes, but also a quiet layer of uncertainty that hung over us.

And then, just like that, it happened — I was pregnant.
At the very first attempt. A blessing, a miracle, and… a surprise that neither of us saw coming so soon. It was one of those moments that change everything — the kind where you’re both overjoyed and slightly terrified at once.

I remember those early weeks vividly. The nausea, the exhaustion, the silence of a home that hadn’t yet felt like home. No friends or family nearby, no one to ask the little questions that fill a new mother’s mind. Just me, my husband, and a growing baby who would become the start of everything.

At that time, I was working night shifts — something I had always managed well before, but pregnancy changed the game. My body was different now. The fatigue hit differently, the nights felt longer, and some days it was hard to tell where exhaustion ended and emotion began. But somehow, I carried on.
Because that’s what you do when there’s no other choice. You find strength in small things — a message from home, the quiet sound of waves on a Sunday morning, a cup of tea before work. You learn to create your own village, even if it’s just the two of you.

Looking back, I see that version of myself with so much tenderness. Scared, tired, but deeply determined. I didn’t have much around me, but I had enough — love, hope, and a baby who reminded me every day why I was doing it all.

It wasn’t the start I pictured for motherhood, but it was mine — raw, lonely at times, and full of unexpected beauty.