“Do you have both your diplomatic and regular passports ready?” I inquired the evening before my son was set to depart.
“Mom, seriously,” my 15-year-old replied with an exaggerated eye roll. “I’ve been through this before!”
Today, he is leaving Moscow, our current home, to travel to Romania with his school’s baseball team, and this time, I won’t be accompanying him.
He’s correct—he has indeed traveled extensively. As an international school student, he has been crossing borders without parental supervision since sixth grade. From Dubai to Singapore, he has been on numerous adventures without me managing his documents or finding the nearest restroom. Logically, I understand he is capable of handling this on his own. Yet, I find it difficult to accept that my once small boy is now navigating these experiences independently.
In contrast, my first airplane trip occurred at 20, as a college student heading off for a semester abroad. Back then, my parents could walk me right to the gate at Los Angeles International Airport and wave goodbye as I boarded.
My eldest, being the first of four, has a very different upbringing. As the child of a diplomat, he possesses both a diplomatic passport for international travel and a standard one for visits to the United States. He took his first flight at just five weeks old. I can’t even count how many countries he has visited—maybe 15, or even 20. Yet, the thought of sending him off on a plane without me still unsettles me. It disrupts my illusion of being able to keep him safe.
Children of diplomats are unique. They can often interpret body language more effectively than their peers, a skill they develop from frequent school transitions and friendships with diverse cultures. They are typically well-informed about global affairs; my children can identify Palestine on a map and explain the reasons it may be absent from some. They can navigate the Moscow subway alone and order falafel sandwiches in Arabic while in Amman or Jerusalem. I find myself both amazed and proud of their capabilities—capabilities that sometimes terrify me as their more cautious mother.
However, there are simple things they miss out on. They cannot mark their heights on the wall year by year. They lack a best friend they’ve known for a decade, as friends often move away each summer. Weekend sleepovers with grandparents and cousins aren’t feasible, and riding skateboards outside is risky due to the lack of sidewalks or potential security concerns.
As I observe my four children growing, I wonder: Is this life worth it? They’ve experienced incredible things—walking on the Great Wall of China, swimming in the Mediterranean, and riding camels. Yet, they have also endured their share of fear and sadness: cowering during embassy alarms, saying painful goodbyes, and worrying about their father, a special agent with the State Department, as he responds to potential threats.
Will they reflect on their childhood positively, or will they lament the absence of a “normal” upbringing? There is no definitive answer. I can see they are becoming intelligent, confident individuals who will thrive in complex, multicultural environments. These are kids who think nothing of flying to Kuwait for a baseball game. But I also recognize I am raising children who are flawed and carry emotional scars, haunted by nightmares of losing their father and burdened with experiences of love and loss that come far too early.
Now, as he departs, my firstborn—only 15 years old—is heading off, and I can’t step in if he encounters trouble. It’s as if the diplomatic life has rendered me somewhat unnecessary. Not long ago, he flew to Kazakhstan with a Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase; today, he packed his own bags and stepped out the door alone, headed for the airport.
As I paced the empty house, my phone buzzed with a text.
“Mom, I forgot. Should I use my diplomatic passport or my regular one?”
Perhaps, he still needs me after all.
For more information on home insemination options, check out this comprehensive guide on artificial insemination kits. If you’re looking for resources on navigating a couples’ fertility journey, refer to this couples fertility journey. Also, if you’re interested in donor insemination, this resource is an excellent place to start.
Summary:
Raising a foreign service child comes with unique challenges and experiences. As a parent, I grapple with the balance of pride in my child’s independence and concern for their emotional well-being. The life of a diplomat’s child fosters resilience and adaptability, yet it also brings about significant emotional hurdles. Ultimately, the journey shapes them in profound ways, and the memories they create will linger long after the adventures conclude.
Keyphrase: Foreign service parenting
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]