“Do you have both your diplomatic and regular passports?” I asked my son the night before his big trip.
“Mom, I got this,” my 15-year-old replied, exasperated as he rolled his eyes. “I’ve done this before.”
The following morning, he was off to Romania with his school’s baseball team, leaving me behind in Moscow.
He’s right, of course; he’s been traveling internationally without me since he was in sixth grade. From Dubai to Singapore, he’s managed to navigate borders without my assistance. While I know he’s capable of handling logistics like packing and traveling, it’s hard for me to accept that this once-small boy is now venturing far from home on his own.
My own first flight was at 20, when I was a college student heading abroad. Back then, my parents could accompany me to the gate at LAX and wave goodbye as I boarded. My son, the eldest of my four children, has grown up in a world shaped by his father’s diplomatic career. He holds both a diplomatic passport for international travel and a regular one for our trips back to the U.S. He was on a plane for the first time at just five weeks old, and I’ve lost count of how many countries he’s visited—maybe 15 or 20? Yet, letting him fly off on his own still fills me with anxiety.
Children of diplomats often possess a unique set of skills. They can read body language better than most, a necessity when they frequently switch schools and form friendships with kids from various cultures. They are often well-informed about global issues. My kids can locate Palestine on a map and understand why it isn’t always included. They navigate the Moscow subway by themselves and confidently order falafel in Arabic while traveling in the Middle East. I am both amazed and proud of their independence, even as their adventurous lifestyle intimidates me at times.
However, there are also simpler things they miss out on. They can’t measure their height on a bedroom wall, nor can they claim a best friend they’ve known for a decade, as friendships tend to fade with every summer rotation. Weekend sleepovers with grandparents or cousins are a rarity, and outdoor activities like skateboarding are often limited due to safety concerns.
As I observe my children growing up, I often wonder: Is it worth it? They’ve walked along the Great Wall of China, swam in the Mediterranean, and even ridden camels. They’ve had remarkable experiences, from sledding on glaciers to shaking hands with dignitaries.
Yet they’ve also faced challenges that no child should have to endure. They’ve hidden in safe spaces during embassy alarms, cried when friends moved away, and watched their father, a special agent with the State Department’s Diplomatic Security Service, rush to confront an intruder at our embassy. They’ve experienced the anxiety of seeing him leave for Iraq, unsure of his return.
Will they remember the wonderful experiences, or will they lament the absence of a “normal” childhood? Only time will tell. I see that I’m raising intelligent, adaptable kids who will thrive in diverse environments. They think nothing of flying to Kuwait for a baseball game. But I also recognize I’m raising children who carry the weight of fear and loss at an early age.
As my son leaves, I can’t help but feel a bit obsolete. Not long ago, he was dragging a Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase, and now he’s packed his own bag and set off to the airport without me. Just as I began pacing the empty house, my phone buzzed with a text.
“Mom, I forgot! Which passport should I use?”
It seems he still needs me after all.
For more insights on the journey of parenting and the unique experiences that come with it, check out our blog posts on home insemination and the resources available for pregnancy. You can find useful information on home insemination here and learn more about the process here. For those exploring fertility options, the CDC offers a comprehensive guide here.