All Around the World
We had a baby - but we never stopped traveling.
by Jamie Rich
November 9, 2009
Two years ago, passport and frequent flier number tucked in her diaper bag, our four-month-old daughter, Eloise, wound through the cobbled streets of Fez, Morocco strapped to my husband's chest. Slabs of raw meat hung from butchers' stalls and the smell of freshly dyed leather and Moroccan spices filled the ancient walled city. Our little "worm," as my husband, Brian, calls her, craned her neck to absorb the scenes. Women and children kissed her cheeks and hands in the market. And like the mysterious Islamic call to prayer sounding overhead, we experienced something spiritual — sharing our passion for travel with our infant daughter. By the end of her first year, we had hit Morocco, England (twice), and Cameroon. Despite our excitement over our baby's adventures, we caught grief from friends and family about dragging our infant around the world.
Before parenthood, we globe trotted without a care. Our passports grew thick with hundreds of stamps from work and leisure travel and a two-year stint in Moscow, where I became pregnant. With the news of the pregnancy, the warnings from our seasoned-parent friends became louder.
"You'll see," our friends said. "Once you have a kid, life will change, and you won't travel anymore."
The excuses ranged from financial constraints and travel-related illnesses, to disrupting sleep schedules and the inconveniences of air travel. Gripped by their kid-fears, most parents we knew let their children dictate their lives. Rather than grounding us, our daughter's birth fueled our sense of adventure. Of course having a baby meant tweaking our lifestyle a bit, but most of the changes we made accommodated our desire to see the world, not her schedule.

Visions of the three of us crisscrossing the continent in a safari jeep made me giddy with excitement.
In January, and with Eloise walking and talking, we accepted another overseas assignment, and our family moved to Douala, Cameroon. Visions of the three of us crisscrossing the continent in a safari jeep made me giddy with excitement. For a few months, our move to West Africa fit neatly into our plan of raising a little citizen of the world.
Our two-year-old recited her ABCs and counted to ten in both English and French. She knew the difference between a water buffalo and a cow. And she understood that the world is larger than "Birginia," where she was born, or "Norf Carwina," and "New Orweans," where her grandparents live.
Our big world shrank pretty small this spring, however, when we hit some turbulence. The only bug we had hoped she would catch was the travel bug. So when our Cameroonian doctor stood in our bedroom and told us that Eloise had malaria, tears welled in my eyes and self-loathing thoughts ran rampant through my mind.
©2009 Jamie Rich and Babble
About the Author
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Jamie Rich lives in Douala, Cameroon with her husband and their two-year-old daughter. When not freelancing from West Africa, she makes her home in Alexandria, Va. Her work has appeared in Washingtonian, Washingtonian Bride & Groom and Northern Virginia Magazine. |
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