From baby Jetlag to Joy: Our First Days in New Zealand

Moving to New Zealand with a baby: jetlag, Sleepless nights, coffee-fueled days, and a scenic walk that finally gave me hope.

Those first few days were a blur… Patrick and I talked about it again recently, and when he said, “You were really in shock,” I realized just how true that was.

The weeks leading up to our move had been stressful. The feeling of not wanting to go, the constant doubts, and taking care of Elsa had consumed me entirely. It was as if I hadn’t truly processed that, at some point, I would actually be in New Zealand. But here we were.

We arrived at the house at 10 p.m., and now, just a few hours later, Elsa was crying. It was midnight in New Zealand but noon in Belgium—who could blame her? By 4 a.m., I tried feeding her once more, but this time, she wouldn’t settle. So, I fled the scene. Patrick stayed in our dark bedroom, rocking her, whispering, trying to soothe her.

I found a bed in one of the upstairs rooms and collapsed, only to wake up two hours later… feeling sad and lonely. That was the first time I googled return flights.
By 5:30 a.m., the sun was up and with it came a new day. We spent that first day in survival mode, napping when Elsa napped, taking care not to let her sleep longer than three hours. As tired as we all were, we forced ourselves to get out of bed, step into the daylight, and repeat. The upside? My colleagues had kindly stocked our fridge, so food wasn’t a worry.

Something else was though. And as much as I don’t like the idea of being dependent on our phones, they ended up forcing us outside that afternoon. Our chargers didn’t fit the sockets, and soon, we’d be running on empty—both literally and figuratively—unable to even navigate our way to a place that sold universal adapters. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being totally disconnected from friends and family either. It’s funny how a little thing like a dead phone battery can make you realize just how much you rely on it.

For the rest of that day Patrick, ever the organizer, started unpacking and tidying up. Meanwhile, I was the living definition of a zombie, wandering aimlessly around the house, feeling lost and out of sorts.

The second night dawned, bringing with it new strategies. We decided to go for a split-shift system, taking turns sleeping in the bedroom upstairs. Unfortunately, the night didn’t bring much improvement in terms of sleep. Elsa woke up constantly, and I fed her until I was pretty sure there was no milk left. Around 2 a.m., it was my turn upstairs. Frustratingly enough rest still wouldn’t come. And, yep, you guessed it… this was the second time I Googled return tickets.

The second day had already begun when Patrick suggested we go for a walk. So, we did.

We turned the corner and entered Keirunga Gardens—this lush, gorgeous park. In Belgium, we’d call this a forest, but here, it was a garden. The fresh air and the stillness of nature grounded me in a way nothing else had. For the first time since arriving, I took a long, deep breath.

We walked on until we reached the top of the hill, where a bench overlooked the rolling landscape. It was stunning. We sat down, Patrick put his arm around me, and I cried.

I cried because I was finally breathing again. Because I was still scared of the huge decision we had made. And because, despite everything, I was happy to be here with my little family.

We continued walking and arrived in our village. One of the first buildings we passed housed a cozy café, LOT2. We ordered our first coffee in New Zealand—and it was so good. Sitting outside in the sun, for the first time, I thought: Maybe… maybe this will all be okay.

That same day, we took the car and drove to Napier, the nearest city. We wandered along Marine Parade, had ice cream, and soaked in the sights. But what I remember most wasn’t the town itself—it was the drive. The landscape around us was stunning. Orchards and vineyards stretched in every direction. It felt like Tuscany by the ocean—but wilder, more rugged.

That night—our third night—Elsa slept just like she did at home. She woke twice to drink but settled immediately afterward. Wait… was that it?

Patrick and I took a little longer to adjust to the jet lag. I wasn’t tired until midnight, while he was exhausted by early evening. It felt like the world here was truly flipped upside down— since he’s the night owl, and I’m the morning person.