Infertility is Universal

Sandy from how beautiful are the feet and her husband are currently working in Namibia in Africa as teachers at a school for AIDS orphans. Sandy's story is of Watjantja a woman she first met almost ten years ago in remote Namibia, but it's also the story of millions of women around the world as infertility affects roughly 1 in 7 women worldwide. As expats we often talk about what is different from home, but some things, unfortunately, are universal.


I usually write about life in Namibia and what is going on in the lives of the students that my husband and I work with. Not many people know about our struggle to get pregnant, and it is not something I have discussed on my blog. When Blondie presented the opportunity to write a guest spot for her I thought it would be a great way to share some of the things I have noticed in dealing with IF in a foreign country.

In 2002, when I lived in Namibia, I met a lady who could not have children. Her name is Watjantja, she lives in Swartbooisdrif, one of the most remote villages in Namibia. There are no medical doctors there; in fact, there are no fertility specialists in the entire country of Namibia. In the Himba culture (recently showed in the movie “Babies”) children are life. Without children you are doomed to be forgotten. Her husband did what almost any Himba husband in that situation would do, he took a second wife who bore him many children without any problem. At the time I was sad for her, but I could never grasp the full force of the devastation behind her expression as she told us all of this.


Fast forward to 2009, my husband and I are about to finish college and we are finally ready to begin our family. I remember that day like it was yesterday, we sat in a restaurant and decided that it was finally time to start trying. The absolute possibilities of what that decision meant for our future made both of us cry. Now here I sit at the beginning of 2011, it has been almost two years and we are no closer to having our family than we were that day in the restaurant. In the last two years I have had several diagnoses thrown at me from doctors thousands of miles apart. (Including PCOS, Endometriosis and Anovulation “here have some Clomid!!!”) Who knew that trying to have a baby included so many needles and an absolute stripping down of one’s dignity?

In 2010 we returned to Swartbooisdrif, Watjantja’s village. She was still there, as barren as ever. When she saw me her eyes lit up, then she looked down at my arms searching for a child. When our eyes met again she read me like a book, her expression said : “You are like me aren’t you?” In an instant she recognized the pain, the emptiness, the hopelessness, and the loneliness in my eyes and in my empty arms. Watjantja can speak no English and through a translator she said “Don’t be like me!” To this day it is one of the hardest and most comforting things I have experienced on this road of infertility.

The one lesson I have learned in dealing with IF and travelling across the world is that women of every culture language color and economic standing share the same feeling of emptiness and heartache when it comes to IF. Anywhere on earth you will be able to find someone who has been touched by this relentless pain and someone who , without having to say anything, can understand the hurt that you are feeling.

Wordless Wednesday

Mimi you forgot something....

...and the winner is

The winner never got in touch so I've drawn a new winner: Brandy!

Please be in touch within 48 hours with your contact information or another winner will be drawn.If you didn't win remember that all Transatlantic Blonde readers get 10% off The Threaded Needle with the code "Transatlantic!"

Liane, The Lifer

My second guest poster Liane from Movement, like me, is an American expat in the UK and we both moved 6 1/2 years ago. The American expat community can be a transient one and I know the majority of American women I've met have since moved back to America. Personally I don't want to say I'm here forever, it's too permanent for me, but Liane is a lifer.



Hi. My name is Liane and I’m an expat from the States. I’m not just an expat…I’m a lifer.

I arrived the summer of 2004. One of the hottest summers on record for London. And ya know what? They don’t have air conditioning there, nor do they even have air conditioners as we know them. You know what I mean, the ones you put in a window. Even though I didn’t have central air in Boston, I still had air conditioning in my bedroom. What the heck had I gotten myself into? But, yeah, it was 6-1/2 years ago, so clearly a few things went well.

I had moved over for a job working in an international school. I was excited to be overseas as many of my relatives, including my parents, had done a stint. Here I was, 35 years old, single (to my mom’s regret), owning no property (to my regret) and so it was perfect timing. I had a two year visa and job contract, with the ability to leave after one year if I so chose. Well, after discovering that I loved my job, loved London and came to love a guy who was from London, I decided to stay, and now I’m here for what may be life in my own home with husband and dog.



Being a long-timer is interesting. Working in an international school and living in such a transitional city such as London means that I meet a lot of people who then leave a year or a few later. The thing about being a long-timer is that the short-timers see their time here in London differently than I do. It’s almost a long visit in a way. They have to go travel everywhere and do everything RIGHT NOW. They may never actually get to know London or any true Londoners, because they spend any time here with other Americans and living in big expat areas. Not a bad thing, mind you, but a different life to that of a lifer.

As a lifer, you may chose to live a bit further out from central London because you can buy a bigger property. The potential of having children there means you want to find a place with a decent neighbourhood, parks, and more interior and exterior space.

As a short-timer, you may want to live in the thick of it or the ‘nicer’ areas where other expats live (close to that big American style store).

As a lifer, you focus on the long-term. You don’t have to get it all done immediately and so you may not travel as much as you originally had A short-timer doesn’t necessarily worry about saving their pounds because travel may more important to them. Sometimes I’m very, very jealous that they see so many places; many more than I have in my 6-1/2 years here.

A short-timer may not get to know so many locals. It’s not entirely their fault. They may only get to socialize with a lot of Americans. It is easier to do that cause we understand each other’s stories. We get that peanut butter and chocolate is really a wonderful thing. We don’t blink when they spend £5 on a bag of marshmallows from the States (they kinda suck here). They know our school system, our government, etc, etc. And it’s tough getting to know the locals. They have their own friends a lot of times or, if not, there are people around who may understand THEIR story, education, life in ways that we might not. It takes effort and time to get to know a local, something that a short-timer just may not have or want to spend.

So is it easier to be a long-timer or lifer? Not always. You may begin to lose your friends from the States, one by one. They may not come to visit and or they may move away from your hometown and so you don’t see them. It takes a lot of work to maintain your friendships and it takes two. Even worse is that you aren’t nearby when things go wrong in your family, such as a grandparent dying or a parent falling ill. You miss out on the good things too, including your nephew’s birthday party and the family gathering for the 4th of July.

Being a lifer means you get to know another culture intimately. You are no longer just an American, but something else. You may end up with two or more citizenships. And you have experiences that change you to the very core. It’s not a life for everyone. But it’s something that I treasure. I love my life here in London. And I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Thanks for letting me visit and write a bit of my story. If you want to learn more about me and my thoughts, feel free to visit me at my blog: http://mrsukyankee.wordpress.com.

Wordless Wednesday: Blondie Boy's 1st Birthday

Be my Guest, Be my Guest

Today I started a new job, tomorrow my Mom flys in from LA and it is Blondie Boy's first birthday! Needless to say things are going to be a bit crazy for the next week or so! To help keep my blog warm I'm going to have several lovely guest bloggers posting. If you'd like to submit a guest post please get in touch!

My first guest post is from the first friend I made when I moved to Scotland, Julie from Me, Him & Them.



She's married to one of NotBlondeHusband's friends (who was there when NBH and I met) and very kindly brightened my blonde with her hairdressing skills! Julie is Mom to beautiful teenage girl and a handsome wee two year old boy and lives on the west coast of Scotland, but once upon a time she was Chunnel Chick!

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When I agreed to do a guest post for the lovely Transatlantic Blonde I struggled a bit to decide what to write about. Usually I blog about my kids and my general family life. She suggested something a bit different from my usual and so I thought what better than to talk about my past life.......... before motherhood.

For those of you who don't know me personally, pre children I was a bit of a mad impulsive mover. I had numerous different houses/flats and was always up for a change. I left home at 16 and moved into a flat with a friend and went to University. Studying really wasn't for me but I finished my first two years and then went and worked in a friends bar until I decided what I wanted to do. During that time I did a bit of babysitting for some of my parents friends with young kids for extra cash. It was through one of these couples that I met a family who had a daughter in Paris who was looking for a nanny. She had just had a baby boy who was 3 weeks old and her French Husband worked between Paris and London and she wanted some fairly part time help with reasonable pay, free accommodation and obviously no bills. I met the couple once when they came to visit but spent some time with her parents with them obviously vetting me and my family/background. After 3 weeks I decided to take the job on a trial of a month and then reassess. So off I went.

I'd never flown before alone and am a very nervous flyer at the best of times but the excitement of doing something so spur of the moment took over and I managed without creating mass panic on the plane (which isn't unheard of from me).

It was hot July in Paris when I landed at Charles de Gaulle and grabbed a taxi at the airport by myself clutching a piece of paper with the address of the couples apartment. First impressions???? 'ARE YOU ALL NUTS?' These people had no highway code and drove like mad loonies. I was terrified and most relieved when I arrived at the address in one piece. It was slap bang across the road from the Eiffel Tower and I was a happy happy bunny.



The apartment was fabulous and I settled in with a very friendly couple very easily. I loved the whole place and the people.

I only helped out with the baby a few half days a week and the rest of the time wandered around sight seeing. I adored everything about the place, but as I speak absolutely no French whatsoever it made for some interesting shopping trips there. My favourite place to shop was Gallery Lafayette and generally I spent most of my free cash there on cute clothes and presents to send back home to my parents. I was in my element there and adored the hustle and bustle of it and people watching the stylish Parisians.



I did a lot of exploring and loved taking a book and finding a lovely park to lie under a tree reading. My absolutely most memorable trip in those first few weeks though was going to visit the grave yard where Jim Morrison from 'The Doors' is buried. I had been a huge fan for years and even did my Higher English book report on the book 'No One Here Gets Out Alive'. So being in Paris and able to go to one of the graveside vigils was amazing.



People go in their dozens with guitars and candles and pay their respects. Its was popular the Police guarded the graveside to protect it. I took loads of photos but as that was back in the pre digital camera days I don't have them scanned.



After the month I decided to stay on with the couple and worked for the best part of a year with them between Paris and London. Eventually I left them as childcare wasn't in my long term plans (needless to say a year later I was a mum so that was bad planning), but I adore Paris and dearly hope to go back one day.



I'll always have Paris.

A Leash is not just a leash

You might have notice a hot pink and white polka dot ribbon in a lot of our photos from Germany. It is actually Sophie Leash by The Threaded Needle.

The leash is meant to keep everyone's favorite chewy giraffe from getting thrown/tossed out and lost, but we also used it with Blondie Boy's puppy, snack cup and most of all his pipka. It was great not having to worry that he'd chucked something out of the stroller and we'd lost it.



The Threaded Needle makes Sophie Leashes in lots of fun colours and also has lots of other cute products like iPad/Kindle Covers and cute chunky bead necklaces.

All Transatlantic Blonde readers can get 10% off at The Threaded Needle by using the code "Transatlantic" and one lucky reader will win a Sophie Leash of their very own in the colour of their choice!

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