It’s easy to get bogged down when making a big career or lifestyle change. Time and money pressures are very real.
Taking a radical, bold and unusual approach can sometimes be more effective than ploughing on in logical, incremental death-by-a-thousand-cuts steps.
I’ve certainly experienced this myself, so today I’d like to share with you “The China Cure”, below, an article I wrote for an expatriate magazine out here just over three years ago. It was about 6 months after I got to China - before I even re-trained as a coach. It’s quite a personal story, which I’m a little hesitant in sharing, so please judge me kindly!
The China Cure: One Mother’s Journey
Elsa at 8 months
with her beloved ayi
Eighteen months ago I discovered, to my surprise, that I was pregnant. I had been dimly aware of my biological clock, but children were firmly in the “some day” category. To complicate matters further, I was no longer with the father.
We had not known each other long, and he was now in a relationship with someone else; under the circumstances he felt he could not be involved. Although saddened for Elsa (I found out I was having a girl), in many ways this made it easier for me. I was free to do as I pleased.
Except that the options didn’t look that great. Waiting for a friend in a pub in one of London’s less salubrious districts, I sat dutifully sipping ginger ale (at least it sounded alcoholic), scribbling a budget on a scrap of paper. Money would be tight: I’d have to work full time to cover rent and childcare costs, and I’d be left with less than I’d survived on at university 15 years earlier. Worse, because of my long commute, I would barely see my daughter during the week.
Besides the grim financial situation I didn’t relish the lifestyle rolling out before me - watching plastic toys sprout from every corner of my home, swapping toilet-training tales with the neighbours, attending playgroups with people with whom I had only motherhood in common.
Gradually, thoughts of an escape route began to form. On holiday in Cambodia a couple of years earlier, I’d been enjoying a coffee and some people-watching in a cafe in Phnom Penh when I was struck by the sight of a Western girl about my own age. She was reading at a neighbouring table next to a baby that looked no more than a couple of months old. I decided I wanted that life.
In the end I traded the romance of Phnom Penh for the opportunities offered by another favourite city - Beijing. I reckoned it was large enough to offer some decent job prospects and a varied social life, and I was drawn to the idea of learning Mandarin. And, importantly, I had a good friend there with her family, which made the whole idea a lot less scary.
So when Elsa turned three months to the day, we boarded the plane. We have now been in Beijing seven months, and every day I think how lucky I am to be here. Because of the low cost of living I can support myself with just a part-time job and still spend every afternoon with my daughter. When I’m at work, Elsa’s ayi looks after her like a surrogate grandmother.
Of course there are downsides. Even though I go home fairly often, I feel guilty that my parents are missing out on watching Elsa grow up close at hand. The pollution can be tiresome, and I do miss grass. But all this is far outweighed by the stimulation of being in a country that teaches you something new each day and infects you with its energy and its friendliness.
My favourite pastime is a wander through the local housing behind my apartment. In a complex of red brick, three storey apartment blocks, peonies poke through rusting gilled verandas, washing dries in the summer air and old men tend to the tiny patches of earth that are their gardens. And at the street market you can buy more vegetables than it’s possible to hang off a stroller, for just over £1.
Perhaps this idyllic existence will come crashing down around my ears once Elsa reaches toilet training age, but so far the once feared trappings of motherhood haven’t encroached too obviously. Plastic toys have admittedly invaded my home, but I’ve managed to keep them to a minimum. And the playgroups and mothers here have actually been a wonderful means of support.
Despite not being the obvious choice, relocating to China has worked magic on some of the difficulties I was facing. So if there’s a life you know you want, I say go for it!
Interested in reading more?
The China Cure sparked a monthly column, Me Myself and Elsa, about bringing up a young child as an expat single mother in Beijing. If you’d like to read about Elsa’s first day at Chinese kindergarten, the hilarious meal I shared with Elsa’s ayi’s extended family, our search for a traditional courtyard home and more, you can find the columns here:
http://www.beijing-kids.com/magazine/Sarah-Cooper
