I’ll forgo the news articles, everyone has probably seen them anyway. Britcits and Freemovement (to name my favourite blogs for such things – as if you haven’t guessed as much…) have more detailed summaries of the event and those who are interested can likely find the bulk of my sources on Twitter through the #MMcase hashtag.
What truly has me disgusted is the fact that the Home Office has said that they are “delighted” to be ripping families like ours apart. They’re giddy with the notion that our unborn child will live without one of its parents. That is sickening.
So, what can we do? Through all of this, my husband has still met the income requirements (despite what the Home Office would love the believe). Our aim is to have the most current year of tax returns and corresponding documentation sent over-night to Solihull where our application is being held. With the rejection letters being sent out by the Home Office on the 28th of July (See: less than three weeks from now), it’s a gamble, but the only one we can hope to achieve.
With our lease up in August for the flat we’re renting, we’re going to have to move back in with my in-laws in the hope of saving enough money to at least pretend we have a chance at a legal battle. Barring that… plan B, at this juncture, would be to take a good hard look at the Surinder Singh route. It wouldn’t be ideal to uproot and relocate to an EU country and exercise my husbands rights as an EU Citizen. It isn’t without it’s own risks but it’s still preferable to be together than to be split apart. In which case, you may find me covering the trials and tribulations of life in Ireland or Belgium (the two most likely candidates at this point).
But, we can’t ignore the potential that the UK Government loves to ruin the lives and dreams of multi-ethnic families. I wouldn’t put it past them to pull a UKIP and pull up the drawbridge behind them once we’ve left. There is a very real chance that, if we leave the UK, we will never be able to come back, so Plan C is to pack everything up and hoof it back to the US. If that happens, I’ll likely be passing the metaphorical pen to my husband and HE can write about… well, the same stuff, but only in the United States. Possibly with the added joy of him being a stay-at-home-dad.
We’re not giving up, but no longer are we surrendering our wits to the false security of positive thinking. We’ve done that for over a year now and it hasn’t worked out. As the saying goes: “doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of stupidity.”
How am I feeling, though? I’m… not okay, to be honest. I’m trying not to think too much about how I feel about all of this, actually – I am frankly telling myself at this point that I do not have the luxury of having a breakdown at this point. This is no way to be pregnant, it’s just not healthy, I’m not going to lie. Me getting wound up right now is going to probably do vary bad things for our unborn child mentally; the poor kid is going to be born with a mind geared for battle and hardship in place of confidence and security. I’ve only just started to have an actual cry about it this morning. I can’t let myself get worked up, for its sake if for no other reason.
I’ve known my share of challenges in my life, but I never thought for one minute that the hardest one would be on account that I fell in love. But, we have our plan and backup plan, and even a backup-backup plan. We can’t do any more than that.