Between Visits and First Steps

We had all our children in Dubai—and while that might sound far from home, in many ways, it gave us everything we needed to become parents.

We struggled to conceive.
It was painful. Lonely. Uncertain.
But the healthcare system in Dubai gave us access to world-class fertility care—something we might not have had in the same way back in the Netherlands.
We had options. We had support. We had hope.

By the time I was pregnant with the twins, I already knew how tough the road could be.
The IVF was intense. The pregnancy even more so.
Ongoing nausea. Zero energy. Two babies growing inside me—while doing life far from home, without close family nearby.
I did it anyway- and actually it shaped me. I vividly remember receiving a phone call from my father checking in on me, and me just balling my eyes out asking him to come and get me- that I was ready to go home.
It was one of the most demanding chapters of my life—and I thank God daily that I have a strong marriage with a beautiful man who took my moods, made me those cups of tea in the morning and held my hand through all of it. I will say, he is lucky he married a strong woman!

When the babies finally arrived, we gave birth in a beautiful hospital.
A private room, five full days of care, a sofa bed for my husband—and yes, even a sushi bar in the building.
That’s just how it’s done there - and boy did we love that! It felt like checking into a hotel. I think we were lucky in that regard, Dubai is very extra. And I didn’t mind it at all in this case. MY OBGYN only did c sections- because, frankly, who has the energy for all of that natural birthing right? And honestly, it suited me just fine.

This was very different from Holland, where you’re often discharged the same day, where famously the women hop back on their bikes the day after they give birth.
It was a soft, supported start to parenting, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

What helped, too, was that Dubai was “only” a six-hour flight from Amsterdam—which felt far back then, but now that we live in Sydney? That flight feels practically next door. We were connected to home in that sense.

Before our firstborn arrived, my in-laws visited often, my best friend came by.
They brought everything from Dutch baby shampoo to tiny newborn outfits to snacks for my cravings.
Dropjes, stroopwafels, and all those little Dutch comforts that made the distance feel smaller.

When the babies were born, our parents visited. My husband’s sisters came too- it was so good to have my sister in law explaining baby massages to me, I am forever grateful for that memory.
It brought comfort, yes. But there was also something quietly beautiful about having that early time just to ourselves.
No one dropping by. No pressure to entertain. Just us, figuring it out in our own way.

And yet—it wasn’t always “us.”
Two weeks after our first baby was born, my husband flew to Russia for work.
Gone for a week. There I was—exhausted, still recovering, learning to mother—alone.No mother. No father. No sister on the couch.
Just me, and this brand-new little human, getting through the nights. It was scary, but it shaped my parenting skills. That week built something in me I didn’t know I had.
Not in a shiny, inspirational way.
More in a quiet, raw, “I have to get through this” way.

And while I didn’t have family nearby, I wasn’t completely alone.
I leaned on strong women around me—Dutch women I met during our time in Dubai.
Their advice in those early days was everything.
There’s something grounding about that no-nonsense Dutch approach: honest, direct, and full of quiet strength.
It cut through the panic. It helped me breathe.
One of them had even walked the exact same path, in the same place.
She probably doesn’t know how much her words shaped my early days as a mother.

Sure, I missed the buzz of family coming over the day the baby was born.
They missed the first steps. The milestones. The tiny in-between moments.

But that distance built me.
It made me an independent parent—not because I wanted to be, but because I had to be.
And somehow, that was exactly what I needed to become the mother I am.

There is a lot to say about having children overseas away from your family. I could handle it, I had only a few moments where I felt it really sucked. Others might not be as lucky.

Your support system is everything, you can be super strong, but postnatal can surprise you so much. You can never predict what will happen. I am proud to come from a strong single mother and incredible African ancestors on my father’s side. My mom taught me to get through things no matter how difficult and my appreciation for her strength grew after I had the girls.

If you’re in the position of giving birth overseas, away from family, and you’ve got the time—have an honest conversation with yourself.
Ask whether you can handle it… and whether you want to.
Because either answer is valid—and knowing the difference is the real preparation.