top of page


My face hurts from crying so much. Edward’s application for endorsement was rejected and I lost it. I’ve been quietly losing my mind during this whole process but I was sure everything would work out. In the last few months I have developed some serious stress-induced acne vulgaris and the salty tears streaming down my face on a regular basis burn like acid.

In the last week I’ve been to Bangkok and back again, to Phuket and back – today alone I have literally driven around the island of Koh Samui – twice. The hurdles we have had to jump: forms and photos, bank statements and letters of consent. More forms, more photos. Medical certificates from immigration approved doctors; only 5 in the country and of course, not one of them remotely close to home.

So we can’t get him an NZ passport, and we can’t get him an Endorsement on his French passport so we tried another type of VISA application. Within minutes of scanning and emailing the 20 odd page application, it was rejected. I nearly threw up.

I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, my tummy is constantly churning with this sick-to-my-stomach feeling that I can’t get my baby into the country I so desperately want to return to. Mum tries to comfort me by calling me on whatsapp and instead we both end up crying down the phone to each other. She’s imploring me to come home and I want nothing more but it nothing feels further than reality.

This tropical island that was such a beautiful escape from the dirty rat-race of London has now become my own personal private hell. The palm trees swaying in the wind seem like giant ominous hands grabbing at my dreams, pulling me back every time I start to drift away in my mind. The funny circular ring of road that runs around the island of Koh Samui seems like a one-way route to hell. Every thing once charming and alluring is suffocating and alarming.

Will we ever make it back to NZ?

bottom of page