My ears were still ringing when we arrived in the Netherlands. Rauf’s scream at KL airport was still echoing prominently in my eardrum—like an uninvited post encore performance. The moment we left the airport and drove 2.5 hours to Maastricht it occurred to me that this was going to be our home for the next 3 years. At that time, I struggled to put my feelings into words. I felt sick.

Moving abroad wasn’t a foreign thing to me, having the privilege to do that several times during my studies. I suppose the move felt so nerve-wracking because I was stepping into the unknown, uncertain of what awaited me on this side.

For the 3 times I stayed abroad, I only had myself to look out for. I was blessed to be on mum’s and dad’s payroll. I had it easy. This time was different: I had my boys. The moment I applied for my leave, we were a family of 3 on a single income. The only purpose of me moving was to make sure my boys will be okay.

On the 2nd day, Rauf fell ill. Obviously, he has been sick before, but this time was it was unusual because he was super quiet. I wasn’t sure how deeply the sadness of leaving had affected him, though he was typically spirited and active—even when unwell. His temperature was increasing, he was coughing. I had suspected he was wheezing, I had to rummaged through all our of luggage to find his nebuliser machine, but then I realised it was in the cargo that was still on the way to the NL.

So we headed to the ER to make sure. Rauf is asthmatic. We wanted to rule out any dangerous possibilities. The doctor that attended Rauf took 3 minutes to check him. to say he was fine and all he needed was paracetamol. No prescribed medicine, 5 minute visit and the bill racked up to be €180. Almost RM1k of bill for a Dr’s visit to tell us all he needed was the medicine I already had.

We moved into our new home about a week after arrival. Securing our home was a whole other drama even before we left for NL. The demand of rental homes in our city far exceeded supply, driving prices up considerably. We needed a home close to the school, especially since I probably wouldn’t have a car. Finding a place within walking distance felt like the most practical and comforting solution.

One thing about renting homes in the Netherlands is that most come unfurnished. I anticipated we’d receive an empty space, so I spent the last of my working salary to gather the essentials we’d need—most of which would be shipped as cargo. Yet, we still had to wait about a month for our belongings to arrive.

For the first few mornings in our new home, Rauf woke up several times, sobbing uncontrollably. He kept saying that if we lived here, he wouldn’t have cousins to play with, his grandparents wouldn’t be nearby, and he wouldn’t see Mama Kat often—unaware that my parents were already planning a visit the following month, and Mama Kat had bought her tickets to see him in September.

In the meantime, we made several trips to IKEA. Each round trip took nearly two hours, and the prices were noticeably higher than back home. Hiring help to assemble the furniture was out of the question, but looking back, I’m grateful for that. While Rauf slept, Joe and I assembled the pieces together, and it became an oddly comforting ritual during those early days. I remember feeling safest during those moments – far from everything and everyone familiar, building the very things that would shape our life here in the Netherlands.

On the day our washing machine and dryer was set to be delivered at home, I shut the front door only to realise a second later that the keys were still inside. The lock? Automatic. The back door? Also locked. The washing machine? En route. I was already sweating

We had to google for emergency locksmiths, The first poor soul who answered my call was greeted with a “PLEASE COME NOW—I REALLY NEED YOU IN MY LIFE!” The language barrier didn’t help, but miracles do happen. Within 45 minutes, a locksmith showed up, replaced the entire lock, and handed us a new set of keys. Just as he drove off, the delivery guys pulled up. Talk about dramatic timing.

For a brief moment, all was right in the world… until Joe told me the locksmith had charged us €200.

I wanted to cry.

At the time, it felt overwhelming—one of those moments where everything feels bad, guilty and a little too heavy. But looking back now, it’s strangely one of my favourite memories from the early days. The things that didn’t go according to plan are the ones that stuck with me most.

It was a chaotic start to our journey here, but not a bad one. I can’t wait to share more about our moving journey here, I hope Rauf reads it one day and realises that it’s fine to surrender to the mess, go with the flow, and learn to laugh at yourself just a little, things become a whole lot easier.