A while back, I wrote about the worst 5 moments in my life and how every single one of them eventually led to something good. Moving to the United States was number one on that list and since today marks the 30 year anniversary of our arrival to the US, it felt like the right time to tell the whole story.
If you know me, you know I am Argentinean to the core. Right before I was told we were moving to the US, it felt like I had my whole life figured out, or at least I thought I did. I had worked hard to get into my high school for a full year before, I made the best group of friends, and I was very independent in my comings and goings.
I don’t remember the exact details of who and when I was told we were moving. All I know is I was sure my world was ending. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t, but it took me a very long time to see that. At that time, we didn’t know when and my father ended up being away from us for several months until he was able to get everything straightened out for us to come join him. Those months were torture because we never knew when we would be leaving. I spent that whole time trying to figure out how to stay back in Buenos Aires, whether it involved running away or staying with a friend or relative. None on those things panned out and on October 10 we made our way to the airport with a large crowd. I spent much of the flight crying and on the morning of October 11, we arrived at the Miami airport.
The hard parts
I don’t want to sugarcoat this part because I think a lot of people, especially kids and teenagers going through big changes, need to hear that it is ok for it to be really hard. Here are some of the things I struggled with the most.
- Starting over in the middle of eighth grade. Middle school is hard enough without switching countries halfway through the year. I didn’t understand what anyone was saying with their American accents. I was lucky that in Miami lots of people spoke Spanish but even some of the accents of other Latin countries were hard for me. Everything was different: the food, the clothes, the music, how school worked, how people hung out… it was a lot to figure out. There were also two groups of people: those who had lived in Miami most of their lives and had their crews and those of us who had left everything behind in our home countries and were trying to find a common ground with people that went through the same experience. I made lots of Spanish and Portuguese-speaking friends that first year I moved to Miami but there was a lot of turnover and it was hard to keep those groups going. It took me a while to really find a group I felt a part of.
- Missing home. I missed so many things for so long. My family, friends, the food, getting around on my own without a car, sitting at a coffee shop, vacations, living in a walkable city, futbol, the list could go on and on. I spent over 4 years being hopeless about it. I did not want to be here and I spent all my time trying to figure out how to move back to Argentina. I still miss people and food and certain aspects of the culture and city but now is more of a nostalgic feeling.
- My immigration status. This one is hard to explain to people who haven’t lived it. The visa I had in high school did not allow me to receive federal financial aid. I had worked so hard for excellent grades and dreamed of an Ivy League school, which was simply not affordable without that aid. Later, without my green card, I couldn’t start medical school on time either, even after taking the MCAT and applying right alongside my friends. Every time I hit one of these walls, it made me even angrier that we had left. I have now been a citizen since 2010 and I am lucky to have dual citizenship. I don’t wish anyone to go trough any type of immigration process in the US, it is always tough no matter what.
- Always having one foot out the door. Even years later, Argentina was always plan B (or honestly, plan A). When I couldn’t start medical school here on time, I came very close to moving back to go to medical school there. My parents were not pleased with that plan, so I stayed. I thought about doing a year there while I was in medical school but after taking a forced year off after undergraduate, I really just wanted to keep things going. I am glad I did.
Why I am so happy it happened
It took me over 15 years to realize this but I can honestly say now that I am extremely happy my parents made the incredibly hard decision to uproot our family. Here is why.
- The doors that opened (even the ones I didn’t want). Because I couldn’t get federal aid, I went to the University of Florida on a full ride through Florida’s Bright Futures scholarship. It turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life. I left with no loans, amazing friendships, and the inspiration for my career in medicine. Go Gators! Then, the year I didn’t want to take off sent me to a master’s program at Georgetown, which was full of new friendships, great opportunities, and the best preparation I could have asked for before medical school.
- My career. I went to medical school in Philadelphia, trained in pediatric neurology, and now get to do work I love every single day. I can write a whole other blog (or book!) on why this is true but let’s just say I am so lucky to get to do the job i do every day.
- My family. If I had never moved, I would never have gone to medical school in Philadelphia, which means I would never have met my wonderfully supportive husband. And without him, there would be no chaos in the form of two kids with a never-ending supply of energy and curiosity. Enough said.
- The best of both worlds. I may live in the suburbs of Philadelphia but my heart will always be Argentinean first. Our home is steeped in this culture. We have the foods, including salchicha parillera sold at Wildfork, the jerseys, the music, and luckily, time with my side of the family. My kids get to grow up with two cultures and I get to share the one I was so afraid of losing. The World Cup this summer was one of the best things I have ever experience and a lot of that was the energy my kids were bringing to each game, whether it was on TV or at the stadium.
- Knowing I can do hard things. That move taught me that the end of the world usually isn’t. Every big setback since then, from not getting financial aid to delays, distance, and the NICU, I have gotten through with a little bit of that thirteen-year-old’s stubbornness and a lot more perspective.
A few thoughts to wrap things up
- To the teenagers (and their parents) going through a big move right now: it is ok to hate it. You don’t have to be grateful right away. Sometimes it takes years, and that is ok too.
- To parents making a hard decision for their family: your kids may not thank you for a long time but that doesn’t mean you made the wrong call.
- To my parents: I know I did not make it easy on you. Thank you for being brave enough to make the decision and patient enough to wait for me to get here. ¡Gracias papis!
Celebrating after getting my US citizenship! Circa 2010!
Enjoying one of our many trips to Argentina