Or, how we escaped from New Zealand.

This post was written in August 2022, but backdated to mid-February 2022.

It was in October 2021 that we got the news. Starfish was pregnant – which we knew – and would not get obstetric care at a New Zealand hospital. Starfish’s father, being medically contraindicated to receive the clotshot, would on that account not be eligible for anything other than palliative care, which is to say, nothing.

By God’s providence, all of us, save myself, are citizens of the United States. So that was a natural destination for us, while other New Zealanders have gone to other more challenging places.

So in early December 2021, we all chose to make our way to the USA to live for a time.

Once we made that call, the first steps were obvious enough, if physically and mentally challenging. Pack up two houses, get rid of everything we didn’t want to bring back with us (furniture, livestock, appliances, clothing, etc.), and put the rest on a boat. Arrangements were made, garage sales held, and it was done, with support from family and friends.

The second part was more interesting. The conventional option, a flight to Los Angeles, was feasible for Starfish’s parents, but not for us. Maybe we would have been wrong in the event, but we believed that, following the CDC’s recommendations, the only medical exemption that airline ground staff in New Zealand would accept was a New Zealand government issued one. These exemptions were in theory available from the Director-General of Health personally, but there were no qualifying criteria established for them, and to this day I am still not aware of anyone who has actually received one.

So Starfish’s parents, being eligible to fly directly to Los Angeles as US citizens, planned to do precisely that. In order not to be separated, we had to try a land border, and specifically the Mexican border.

First, we had to get updated passports, and a Consular Report of Birth Abroad for our youngest then-born child. Cue an emergency appointment at the US Consulate-General in Auckland, and flying the whole family up and back, a week before we had to fly out of the country. Oh, and we had to get COVID tests (the “RAT test”) while in Auckland in order to get clearance to fly home.

Then, the flights themselves, a week later, were insane. Christchurch, to Auckland, to Kuala Lumpur, to Dubai, to Barcelona, to Mexico City, to Ciudad Juarez. The travel time was about 72 hours, including a night in Dubai for some much-needed rest.

Starfish’s parents and uncle met us in Ciudad Juarez, with a vehicle for us, another instance of God’s gracious provision. After another night’s sleep, we attempted to cross the border, armed with a medical exemption, at the Bridge of the Americas.

It did not go well. Besides denying your humble correspondent admission, the border guards manhandled Turtle Girl, then four years old, with a US passport, and nursing an injured leg in a moon boot. When we (specifically Starfish’s uncle) protested at this treatment of a US citizen, the border guards presented firearms at him. We made a tactical withdrawal.

Starfish’s uncle, though an American, lived in Mexicali with his family. Our next step was to try to obtain a more descriptive medical exemption from the New Zealand doctor that I had consulted. Failing that, we would go to the uncle’s house and explore our options.

Driving on Mexican highways is an experience, but with God’s hand of protection on us we made it to Agua Prieta. There, I found an updated medical exemption waiting for me in my email. Now, Agua Prieta is the twin town of Douglas, Arizona. Starfish’s uncle took my exemption with him, and asked if in principle the Douglas border guards would admit a New Zealand passport holder with that exemption. We found them wearing fishes and other Christian symbols (highly unusual for a US Government official on duty), and they were professional and very kind. They treated us all with respect and gave me no trouble whatsoever, even though they were obliged to search our vehicle for quarantine purposes. Which was just as well, as it was the stroke of midnight and we were all very tired and stressed.

Once I was admitted as a visitor, we made haste out of the area in case a border guard changed his mind. Moreover, Starfish’s uncle was afraid that if we stopped in New Mexico we would be held for a week for COVID quarantine purposes. In the dead of night we passed Lordsburg and Las Cruces, and got to El Paso in time for the pre-dawn light. Starfish’s uncle and I were now taking turns to do the driving, and being punched in the shoulder to the melodious sounds of Relient K as needed. We finally met Starfish’s parents in the Texas town of Big Spring. With great relief and in utter exhaustion, we got into hotel rooms and collapsed into bed.

And thus we made it into, if not quite as much the “Land of the Free and Home of the Brave” as it once was, certainly a freer, and hopefully more courageous, place than New Zealand has become.