This post is written in collaboration with Land Rover Discovery Sport.
I want to take you back in time, in the Champagne Archives, to a time before child #2 was born, in 2010. I was admitted to hospital at 20 weeks with some dodgy preggo blah blah, and was sent home to be on bed rest for a couple of weeks just to shore up the little boy growing in my belly.
It was all a bit tense. A bit scary. I was stressed.
“I know!” my thoughtful Husby exclaimed, “Let’s take a week off and chill at Fraser Island.”
Give the man a round of applause!
So we did what any pregnant woman on bed rest does: went four wheel driving.
(It wasn’t until later I found out that four wheel driving is actually used sometimes to induce labour. Have you been four wheel driving? Yep, then you know what I’m talking about. At this point, I had never done it, so had no idea how fantastically stupid this idea was.)
But to make matters worse – and ever so slightly dodgier – our car wasn’t actually made for four wheel driving.
But out we went – Husby, me and Miss 6 – on Husby’s 42nd birthday, four wheel driving all over that great big beautiful sandy-arse island. We had a beachside picnic until we were invaded by hungry dingoes, we saw some amazing beaches and some pretty fantastic rainforest.
As a Brisbane girl, I am ashamed it took me 36 years old to see this bit of iconic scenery right on our doorstep.
We had a fantastic day, and were heading back to our resort at dusk when the unthinkable happened: we got bogged. On a remote bit of dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I sat there in the passenger seat, listening to Husby spinning our tyres further and further down into the mud, bristling and preparing for the most awful night imaginable.
Time wore on. The sun went down.
Pitch darkness, remote rainforest, a scared six year old girl, hungry dingoes, a dodgy pregnancy, no food – and at this stage, a very, very precarious marriage.
I swear, I was about 10 seconds away from unloading the most terrifying gobful of marital bile ever spewed by a pregnant woman.
When something appeared in our rearview mirror.
Headlights!
Coming up behind us was a massive, very capable, Land Rover four wheel drive. And bonus of all bonuses: the guys driving it had a tow rope.
Queue the choir of angels!
These generous strangers (or not, you know, we were in their way as well) dragged our sorry car out of that ditch before we could even exhale and we were back at our resort giggling nervously over a T-bone and chips before we knew what happened.
Crisis averted.
Marriage intact.
Have you ever had one of those ‘marriage at risk’ moments? Who or what saved you?
The 30 hour travel time from Brisbane to Dublin with child in tow. If we arrive home only on the BRINK of divorce, I consider it a successful trip.
Well, if you just moved back to Australia…
I can just imagine how much effort it took not to say anything.. not sure I would have been so good at holding my tongue. Thank goodness for strangers. x
It was only because it was his birthday, Em, but I was getting pretty damn close, let me tell you!
Ha ha – that made me laugh (in a retrospective way you can laugh). Love your daughter’s pic.
Travelling to London with a 6 month old and almost 2 year old and we found a whole lot of crankiness that we never knew we were capable of… Lucky we didn’t make any rash decisions (although I could have stayed OS with my sister!). I have never been to Fraser Island (much to my husband’s disgust) – guess I best be getting there one day!
Oh wow, that kind of travel is enough to test any relationship! Glad you survived. xx