Mia gave birth to another boy! As soon as he was born, a nurse took him and several nurses and doctors stood around the baby. The baby did not cry and I could not see what was happening. At the same time, Mia was asking what the problem was and what was wrong. I could not answer as I saw a lot of people standing around the baby and whispering. A tear came to my eye and I was very close to crying as I was certain the baby was in trouble. Why did he not cry?
At last, I heard him cry. I was so overjoyed. I thought I lost him for a while and now he was crying so loud. The doctor explained it was not serious; he just swallowed some foster water.
One of my fondest memories was when we took him home. We stopped to visit Mia’s parents to present our new baby. Christopher was sitting on the sofa with his newly born brother on his knees. Christopher was by now 3½ years old. I was so proud how he looked at his brother and promised that he would take care of him and would be the best big brother. (A pledge he kept since then!)
The baby was named Sebastian. Christopher was an easy baby to take care of, while Sebastian was the opposite. He may have been silent the first few minutes of his life, but then he cried and cried... and cried. Mia was by now a working nurse, and I was trying to get back into school. It was not easy getting up so many times at night. We could not let him rest in a seat; he always had to be carried. The one time that he did not complain was when we took him for a walk in the pram.
We were now living at the little house that was falling down. Despite it was expensive to warm, it was small, it was old fashioned, and we never knew when the roof would fall down, we were happy. It had a huge garden that was overgrown. We sorted that out by inviting everyone we knew to do some garden work and at the end of the day, we fed them, it was fun!
I was busy studying Danish after failing in my education. My mom told me that no one had a third level education in our family. This did not make me feel better and it was not totally right, my aunt was a nurse. I managed to get Danish qualifications that were needed for university. It was now time for me to decide what my future would be.
I spoke with Mia and reminded her that it was time to move back to England or Ireland. She did not think we should. We now had 2 boys and she was just starting her new job. I reminded her of her promise and explained that I felt like an outsider in Denmark. It is so hard living in a country where you feel like you are just a guest and did not belong. Mia did not want to discuss it. She said we were happy in Denmark and we should not even be discussing it. She finished by asking how can I be so selfish that I wanted to uproot the whole family and move to a place they would feel like outsiders. What could I say to this? We stayed in Denmark but agreed that we should move to something bigger.
I would miss the little white house; one of my fond memories was a wedding we planned for some friends of ours. It was an American woman who met someone from the Middle East. She wanted to marry him so he could move to the USA and be safe. Many would think there was no love in this marriage, but I thought there was. In any case, he took great care of her. The wedding was in our garden and we made some good food. It was romantic having a wedding surrounded by roses, tulips and different trees were like being in the Garden of Eden. I felt proud that Mia and I could give someone else a good future.
So I was now stuck in Denmark. I decided that I would study to be a pedagogue once again, but this time it would be on my terms. I would be a pedagogue the way I thought one would be. I would be the best. It was like when I went to the school at Waterford, where I have learned that you had to lick your wounds and try to be stronger and better. So I started again at the training college, 6 months after I failed the previous attempt. The class was a better class than the last class. They did not give me a hard time about my accent, and they listened to what I said.
So things were going well at school and we were a family outside the school. Sebastian still cried non-stop and demanded he was lifted and entertained a lot. Despite this, we loved him without a doubt. I often wonder why I was not disappointed he was born as a girl. I prayed for it and hoped for it a lot. I think it’s Gods will and luck for me. I would have spoiled a daughter, which would not be good! The fact is that he was a healthy boy, despite a loud one. He was just as important to us as Christopher was. I was so proud of my children!
Christopher was another sort of boy. He was extremely intelligent and independent. Despite this, he was socially awkward, which worried me a lot. I would pick him up at kindergarten; I would find him in some corner playing alone. It reminded me of my time at Waterford, where I was alone. I made a mistake as a father here; I panicked and gave Christopher long speeches about being social. Looking back on it, I was forcing him to be social, while telling him at the same time he did not live up to my expectations. I should have known that some children were not as social as others.
One thing that surprised me was his willpower. As a parent, I heard many complain about potty training their children. Mia and I discussed the easiest way of doing this. Our great parent plans never worked, as Christopher does things his own way. One day, he came home and told us he no longer wanted to wear a diaper, so he went to the bathroom and took off the diaper. He had very few accidents. I remember I asked Mia why parents complained about it… just let things to happen at their own pace.
I was still worried about being a paedophile, and at the same time wondering why I was afraid of this. I wrote to the Danish Paedophile organisation and asked for information. I wanted to contact a support group that would give support and help me in case there were some tendencies. There must have been tendencies, otherwise, why would I even consider this as a problem? I was sent a very vague letter and I paid for membership. After their newsletter, I understood that they were pro-pedos. I sent a letter to someone asking if they were afraid of being a pedo. The letter I got back was him boasting how much he liked children and he was happy he met someone that did. He wanted me to answer, but I did not. I told my wife about all this. She was mad at me and embarrassed. The outcome did not end in discussing my fears. We concluded not to pay them anymore and that was the end of that.
We will still scouts and dedicated scouts. I even attended a scout meeting two days after I had a hernia operation. I could hardly stand up and the pain was very bad, but I still went. I had huge pains for the next two weeks, but at least I did my job.
Mia and I communicated in English. It was the language where we used when we met each other and fell in love. I also tried talking in Danish, but she always corrected my Danish. I admit that I also needed to speak English, as it was part of my identity and I needed to relax at times. This had its drawback. There was a woman at Christopher's kindergarten that I was sure she was not qualified as a pedagogue…. After all, I should know… I was studying to be one. I was telling Mia this after collecting Christopher. Of course, I was saying it in English, so he would not understand. I called the woman a witch! Needless to say, the next day at kindergarten, he told the woman that I thought she was a witch
After losing the battle of moving back to England, we moved to a flat that was larger than the little house we moved from. I missed the little house, but at the same time knew it was important that we had an extra room for our boys.
Sebastian was still a difficult child that cried over the smallest thing. One day, I was late going to my school. I had him on the changing table and he was crying his head off. I tried pleading that I was late and we had to be quick. I did not know why he was crying. I tried begging and tried being so nice to him. Nothing seemed to work as I heard the tick-tock of the clock. I ended up giving him a slap on the bum! I vowed never to hit my children and yet I just gave him a slap. I looked at his bum and could see the red print of my hand. Was it that hard? I was worried about what the day-care would say about it. I told the day-care some weak excuse and was in a bad mood all day!
Christopher had a different personality. It was like he was always one step for us in what we thought he could do or how intelligent he was. One day we could not find him, and we searched the whole flat. It was not a huge flat, so you would think that he would be easy to find. We shouted his name and no answer. We were getting worried too as where he could be. Mia even wanted to ring to her parents for help, which was typical. Every thought went through my head. I even considered the possibility that he was kidnapped. When we were in a total panic, we found him in the dryer. Christopher explained that it was a good hiding place and he wanted to try and see what it was like in the dryer.
I often took Christopher to school when we had no classes. This was a dangerous place to take a child as he was surrounded by adults wanting to be pedagogues. Some thought they knew everything about being a child. Once when he was 3, we were sitting in the cafeteria where he sat silently while he wrote his name over and over. Some of the adults thought this was wrong and asked me why we pressure him? I told them it was his own choice and if he wanted to write his own name then so be it. They asked him if he would draw them a cute picture. Christopher said that he did not want to, as he was quite happy writing his name.
Compared to the first time I studied to be a pedagogue, the second time was much better. I passed with flying colours in my first practical. It was after school care with children up to 11 years old. I decided to be myself and use my experience as a scout leader to do a good job. This time I did one thing differently. I made sure that everyone knew what I was doing. The staff knew what was happening and why I was doing it. Sometimes I had all the children under my care, which meant that the other adults could have more coffee. An example of this was when they came from school, about 60 children were in a small room when we played stop dance
I was praised for my work there and even promised a job if they had one when I got my qualifications. The rest of my education was a huge success. For the first time in a long time, I had confidence in myself
Besides the children, study and scouts, I was involved with refugees. My wife and I and a small group started an organisation (called International Friends) that wanted to help refugees in Denmark assimilate and find life easier in Denmark. We visited a refugee centre and organised dinners for refugees and Danes, so we could taste each other's food. This was a huge success and it brought the wars and troubles we saw on TV a bit closer to home. At times, it was heartbreaking, as we have seen people sent home to their home country and God knows what happened to them.
Compared to the helpless feelings I had all my life and wondering what my purpose in life was, I was slowly beginning to find my place. I wanted to be a pedagogue. I also had my children a well and the refugee. It kept me busy, but at the same time, it was changing me. In ways, I was becoming too confident and independent. My wife was still working with me in the scouts and International Friends, but we discussed less and I told her more and more what she could do. She complained at times, but at the end, she chose not to come to meetings where we planned things. She said someone had to take care of the children. It was not always I took her ideas serious or even respected them. It was like I found my niche in Denmark, and I wanted Mia to be a guest when involved, not a partner.
When it was time to do the final exam as a pedagogue student, we had to do a project. I was in a group with two other men. We chose to do a project about child abuse. I never thought about my experiences as a child, as I wrote many times, I totally forgot about this. Everything was going fine until we saw a British video called “No Child of mine”. It was a film about a girl that was abused by her stepdad, prostituted by her father, and later abused by caretakers and prostituted. I had an anxiety attack and could not see the film, at the end of the film, the group talked about how bad the film was while I said nothing. I was in tears all the way home. When I came home I just hid at my desk, not wanting to speak with anyone. It was like I was having an anxiety attack and someone was stabbing me. The problem was that I did not know or realize why my reaction was so evident. The next day I told them I did not want sexual abuse in our project.
The day came when I got my diploma. I was finally a pedagogue. I already had a job and would be starting as a kindergarten teacher the following Monday. It took 8 years in Denmark, but I finally had qualifications and a job. I had children and I felt like people needed me. I did not go and celebrate with my class, I ate a special dinner with Mia to celebrate that we have come so far.
I did not have much time to celebrate, as I started my new job 3 days after.
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