The Sky Is Awake

A story about emigrating during the COVID-19 pandemic

Experiencing another country and culture has always been a shared dream of my wife and I. Emigrating could be described as bold, exciting or brave. Emigrating with small children some might say is challenging, but a great opportunity. Emigrating with two small children during the COVID-19 pandemic, I would describe as a total examination of your relationship and the one of the biggest tests of resilience.

 I started writing this article from our government controlled, quarantine facility in Brisbane, Australia. The year long journey to get us here from London, has tested our physical and emotional capacity like nothing before it. The article’s title was inspired by Ross Edgley’s, The Art of Resilience, telling the story of his record-breaking swim around the UK. A present from my wife that I read over the summer and with which I have drawn a lot of inspiration and solace from. On our journey, at times I felt like I was also swimming against the tide to get to a destination that seemed so far away. 

 In November 2019, following a 15-year career as a consulting engineer in the UK, I accepted the opportunity to open the office for my company’s planned expansion into New Zealand. The opportunity to build and deliver engineering services, that I could lead and shape, coupled with the fantastic quality of life for my young family was a truly once in a lifetime opportunity.

 Decision made. The next 4 months were spent planning, researching, networking and filling out forms, that anyone who has ever moved their life abroad can relate to. My wife and I spent a fortnight at the end of January 2020, exploring Auckland and I had an opportunity to meet with future clients and colleagues ahead of our move at the end of March 2020. So far so good and it seemed like the usual experience most of us would have moving countries.

 Endless leaving parties, dinners and meet ups, as well as emotional goodbyes and planned visits from family and friends in the future, all ensured we remained both distracted and excited for the move. 

 The emergence of COVID-19 in 2020 and its subsequent escalation globally, led to an accelerated departure. My sister in law’s wedding in Thailand was cancelled immediately and our life in a 40ft container set sail. The following day we were due to depart Heathrow. We woke to news of the planned NZ border closure in 6 hours’ time. We frantically packed our suitcases, abandoning anything we could not squash in and darted to Heathrow to be checked in airside. Confirmation from both NZ immigration and the airline that our online check-in allowed us to board, but only later in the afternoon due to security, gave little reassurance. There was an inevitability about our rejection from the check-in counter that afternoon.

 Shell shocked, we returned to my mother-in-law’s home and thankfully, I hadn’t sold our car before our accelerated departure. Unsure of the next steps we arranged makeshift accommodation, borrowing from friends and neighbours. Sleeping on mattresses on the floor, my home office consisted of trestles and an old kitchen table-top from a skip and we lived out of our suitcases. 

 Reassurances from my company that we would make the move as soon as possible and my own “rose tinted”, positive outlook derived a false positivity. Having read Thinking Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman, it makes a lot more sense. The shifting narrative and full extent of the effects of the disease, were completely unexpected. Working day and night to understand the position, the logistical options and exemption process. The unknown is always worse than the known, and with the looming expiry of our visa, there was a shift in tone from the company.

 A rethink on strategy and risk, given the economic circumstances, heaped more stress and uncertainty onto our lives. The company's decision not to pursue the expansion into New Zealand, quickly followed with the news that the role and contract I had signed at the start of the year, no longer existed.

 Thankfully, we were able to agree an alternative way forward. Over the following months the emotional rollercoaster continued, in agreeing and negotiating a role and position in Australia. Given my families situation and that my wife and I had mentally moved to the other side of the world, we continued to compromise. It is important not to devalue yourself ever, but I hope the compromise was the right decision and will be proven over the next few years.

 The irony throughout this stressful, parallel negotiation, was my commitment to remain busy and maintain an agile mind. Unencumbered with legacy responsibilities coupled with an understanding line manager, who took me back onto UK payroll, I was able to work on incredibly interesting projects with great success. Supporting the UK government with technical guidance on their COVID-19 response, thought leadership in the companies’ global response to the pandemic with a strawman that governments could utilise infrastructure to kick start an economy, a guest spot on a podcast and several high-profile winning bids.   

 Boarding flight SQ317 to Singapore didn’t feel real. Our visa and exemption to enter Australia, was eventually approved and despite arrivals caps, we were able to secure flights. Our youngest child at 13 months chose the day before our departure to learn to walk. Our mindset in the run-up to the departure had changed. As a couple there were a lot less highs and lows, we found we didn’t tell friends and family about developments in our move. There was a hardened exterior.

 Brisbane Airport provided a slick and professional arrival, with several checkpoints. The mountain of luggage and tired children were met with friendly helpful staff and a camaraderie with other masked passengers who were delighted to help. Our carefully packed luggage was examined by border force, causing a sudden panic of mistakenly packed contraband. One particularly stern, uncompromising and patriotic policewoman tested my wife’s self-control, with her bullish, dismissive tone and air of superiority suggesting there was no allowance for small children in quarantine and that “everyone wants to move to Australia”. Thankfully, my wife’s self-control and social awareness was able to overcome the provocation, no doubt assisted and honed during the previous 9 months developments.

Quarantine is hard. It is only by reflecting on the fortnight spent in a 2-bedroom serviced apartment, that I can appreciate how difficult it was. At the time, there was no other option. Our fresh-air breaks were removed after 3-days, that heaped more pressure. I found myself staring at the door. We developed coping mechanisms and routine for the children, attempting to structure the day around mealtimes and our work commitments.

 We split our days into 30-minute increments, like Hugh Grant in About a Boy. Dance parties to Baby Shark and Minions were a good alternative when water play on the balcony led to a flood onto floors below. The relentless monotony reminded me of Ross’s swim and how he trained his mind to overcome this. “Daddy, the sky is awake” was the wake-up call from my 3-year old daughter at 0500hrs, on the morning of day 8. These moments of innocence give perspective and keep you grounded.

 Day 14, release date, couldn’t come quick enough, but when it arrived, it didn’t feel real. A great friend from our time in Germany arrived to help with the move to our serviced apartment. Hugging someone outside of our immediate bubble was a strange concept, but an incredible feeling and a symbol of how well Australia has dealt with the virus. 

 Our first foray into Australian life came with a few speed bumps. I had to send my wife and the children out for a walk to remove glass, clean and make the service apartment safe. This was quickly followed by the looming Christmas shut down that heaped further pressure on the preceding few days to find a house, car, childcare, bank account, payroll, Medicare, air freight delivery among the seemingly endless list of jobs.

 Two months since landing in Australia, we are finally finding some routine, headspace and time for each other. Brisbane is a fantastically easy place to live. It is safe, friendly, and well set-up for children. The sky wakes up early and so now, do we. There is an innate guilt living here, especially when on Facetime to grandparents in the UK. But the resounding response is, send more pictures and videos, as it appears that this window into normality, perhaps offers some form of hope and escapism.

 The last year has changed me, my wife, and our relationship. Like Ross’ crew on the boat, we relied heavily on each other, our family, and support network through the toughest of times. The morning I was told that there was no longer a job for me in APAC, my quiet demur was picked up by my 3 year old daughter who without a word spoken gave me a hug, knowing something wasn’t right with Daddy.

Stress and pressure can manifest in multiple ways and I can testify to the physical toll that the past year has taken on me. I like to think that, what it has taken physically, it has reinforced mentally. 2020 has been a tough year for many, “resilience” is a word used extensively and in our case has been seriously tested.

 I can only speak of our experience, but when you think there is nothing left, there is always more. Keep you confidants and support network close and utilise their strength as your strength ebbs and flows. Live in the moment and enjoy the small wins. Remember to laugh, like our children who can laugh more than 300 times a day. Keep focused on the prize, and don’t stop moving forward.