A cyclone of activity prefaced our intrepid Arctic adventure. Between donning my backpack and escaping with my three-year-old, stood a seemingly impenetrable wall of packing and organising. I crystal-gazed for possible work-related problems arising in the next few months, and everything was added to my ‘to-do list’, and deemed compulsory to complete before we left. Sacrificing the final two nights sleep altogether, I staggered through the tasks knowing that soon I’d be on holiday. I’d have plenty of opportunities to rest and sleep then.
Inexplicably, it came as a shock. Travelling with a toddler capable of fuelling a small nation is not restful, and my extensive solo travelling was no preparation. Lucas, overcome with excitement in sharing not only a room but a double bed with me, became supercharged like The Duracell Bunny day and night. My sleep deprivation increased every night, inversely proportionally to his sleep requirements, and his dynamite enthusiasm I once loved, made me want to cry. We had had some wonderful times too, but so little sleep and sharing our living space 24 hours a day, day after day had depleted all my energy. I couldn’t image continuing for another three months.
Three weeks into the trip we walked hand in hand in Bergen, as Lucas chatted away incessantly with enough enthusiasm for a large school full of children. My spirit felt broken. With horror, I caught sight of myself reflected in a café window. My sleep deprivation was so severe I looked sallow and hollow like an intravenous drug user. I looked away to see a kindly 90-year-old lady on the street walking towards us with more spring in her step than I had. We had a cup of tea together, before she insisted on buying Lucas a toy. She played with Lucas, providing precious time out for me and fresh company for Lucas. I loved that lady!
We were due to catch the Hurtigruten boat the following night which would take me further from a flight home, the idea of which filled me, quite frankly, with horror. Sad to give up in the South of Norway before even reaching the Arctic, I admitted defeat.
A last-minute change of mind spurred by a fear of regret, and the fact that Lucas’s health was thriving for the first time in two years, led me to board the Hurtigruten in Bergen, at 10:30 pm.
The Hurtigruten follows the spectacular Norwegian Western coastline, stopping at many coastal villages along the way, taking three days to reach the wild and beautiful Lofoten Islands. As soon as we boarded the fabulous Finnmarken, the best of the Hurtigruten fleet, Lucas was swamped by the ship’s staff wanting to play with him. I was doubly grateful:for the respite, and because I loved seeing them fussing over him. My family lived on the other side of the world, my Mum died when Lucas was a year-old, and Lucas’s extended paternal family were distant. I’d felt sad when antenatal friends’ children were surrounded by doting family members. Lucas didn’t have that, so it was heart-warming to see these beautiful people wanting to spend so much time with him. The chef made themed meals for him, which up to five waiters would bring out to watch his reaction. Guests asked me daily if it was Lucas’s birthday; one was a volcano with sparklers in it for the eruption. Lucas became an honorary staff member, awarded a staff badge and was thrilled by admission to the staff only kitchen. Even when they were off duty, people turning up to play with him. The difficulties of the early part of our trip dissipated, and I had sanity and energy restoring “me” time and rest.
After breakfast on the second day, I became friends with Sarah. Tall, blonde, slim, immaculately dressed; she walked with the posture only dancers possess. When at home in America, she worked for the UN and as a nurse in a women’s prison, and enjoyed painting and sculpting in her spare time. She was holidaying with her children and her mother; they had a lovely close relationship. I’d always wanted the whole extended family thing growing up. It never happened, and I wanted it even more now for my son. Sarah changed my view on family, and what she said that night has been demonstrated time and time again. ” Trish ,” she said, ” Don’t put so much emphasis on the blood relative thing, it’s nice when you have it, but it’s not what it’s all about. Where ever you are in the world; you will meet people that will want to be part of yours and Lucas’s family. Don’t miss those precious opportunities by looking in the other direction. You’ll rob yourselves, and them, of wonderful times together. They may play a role in your lives for a short time or a long time, nevertheless, you have everything you need and are never alone in caring for Lucas.”
David. A tall, kind, rather handsome member of the crew, told me I looked completely exhausted upon boarding, and it was clear I needed sleep and time out. It wasn’t a coincidence the staff came and asked me if they could spend time with Lucas. They did it initially to support me, a total stranger, then they fell in love with Lucas and wanted to spend time with him anyway. Leaving the ship was a teary good-bye.
If I hadn’t taken the plunge and continued the trip to Lofoten, I would probably not have travelled with Lucas again, as the early part had been so challenging.
I learnt such a valuable lesson from Sarah. We are not often surrounded by blood relatives, but we are surrounded by friends and family in the same way we are friends and family to others. I’m so grateful to everyone, who have been part of our family, even for a short time. You know who you are xx.
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