This was particularly lucky because it was a high-risk pregnancy, and in the end an emergency C-section, all shepherded by an obstetrician who preferred Prada shoes, and whom I never once saw wearing the same pair. However, I was left completely cold by the experience of pregnancy and childbirth - not my own, as being insured meant I had access to the best pre- and postnatal care the American health industry can buy. I already had my misgivings about the propensity toward gun violence in American communities, including in Boston, where my partner – my sons' father - attended school with kids who had brought in concealed weapons for a boastful playground show-and-tell. However, faced with the prospect of bringing up a child in the US, I suddenly began to see the cracks in the veneer of the same America I had idealised and idolised for so many years. Having also lived in France, I found the patchwork of states that make up America much like the European Union - in that nearly every time you crossed a border you encountered a different accent, food, architectural style and sense of identity. And my time working, living and travelling in the US more than fulfilled my expectations of an astoundingly diverse and unrelentingly interesting country. The decision to move back to Brisbane less than three years after my arrival in Boston also came despite a lifelong mission to live and work in the United States, where I was born.ĭon't get me wrong, the allure of cities such as Boston and New York - intellectual and cultural capitals unlike anything in Australia - still tugged strongly at the single, childless, career-driven young adult in me. The catalyst was the birth of my first son, and my desire that he experience the same safe, sedate and relatively remote Australian childhood I enjoyed. In 2011, I made the decision to cut short my stint working in America and return to Australia.
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