We Finally Brought Our Babies Home
Pauline Gray
7/19/20265 min read
I’ve been trying to find the words to write this blog for weeks.
Every time I sat down, I found myself staring at a blank page because nothing I wrote felt big enough to describe what this trip meant to me.
People saw photos.
They saw smiles.
They saw another trip back to Aotearoa..
But this was more than a trip back to Aotearoa it was to reconnect what was never broken but for us to see and follow that pull.
This was the first time Charlie and I took some of our babies back to where they come from.
We weren’t able to take all five of our kids this time four of them made the journey with us, and our big girl’s turn will be coming soon. That’s something we’re already looking forward to with so much excitement.
And not only that, we were blessed to have our daughter-in-law come with us too a beautiful blessing just as much as the rest of our babies being there.
For the first time, they stood on both of their whenua.
My whenua.
Charlie’s whenua.
The whenua of their tūpuna.
UTAKURA will always be home 🩷✨
As parents, we spend so much of our lives wanting the very best for our children.
We pray they’ll grow into kind, compassionate, and confident people. We dream about the opportunities they’ll have, the memories they’ll make, and the lives they’ll build. Every decision we make is with them in mind, hoping we’re giving them a life they’ll one day look back on with gratitude.
Charlie and I know what it’s like to struggle.
Our life together was never easy, and our journey certainly wasn’t perfect. It took years of hard work, sacrifice, setbacks, tears, and choosing each other over and over again to be sitting where we are today.
We’ve walked through seasons where we questioned everything, faced financial struggles, carried heavy burdens, and navigated the ups and downs that marriage and life can bring. There were times when the road ahead felt uncertain, but every challenge taught us something.
Looking back now, those difficult seasons became some of our greatest teachers. They taught us resilience, gratitude, patience, and humility. They reminded us that life’s greatest blessings often grow from its hardest moments, and for that, we’ll always be grateful.
Those seasons didn’t define us they refined us.
They taught us to appreciate one another, to celebrate the small wins, and to never lose sight of what truly matters. They showed us that success isn’t measured by what we own, but by the love we share, the memories we create, and the life we’re building together.
That’s why this trip meant so much.
It wasn’t just about travelling back to Aotearoa.
It was a reminder of how far we’d come together.
Years ago, this was something we could only dream about.
Standing on both of our whenua with our babies beside us felt like a full-circle moment—one we’ll hold close to our hearts forever.
This trip has brought so much love, so much happiness, and such a deep understanding of how much it has filled our cups. Being there, standing on our whenua, seeing the whenua that will always be home for us when we return—it reminded us of what true richness really is.
Not in material things.
But in the whenua.
In our connection to it.
In knowing that no matter where life takes us, we have a place that grounds us, that calls us back, that holds our story.
We’ve also been incredibly blessed with something we never take for granted.
Time.
Time to be present.
Time to watch our children grow—through every stage, from little ones to teenagers finding their own way in the world.
Time to witness the little moments that often become the biggest memories.
Being able to both be stay-at-home parents has been one of the greatest blessings of our lives.
Our children have taught us that success isn’t measured by how busy you are or how much money you make.
It’s measured in the moments you don’t miss.
The hugs that last a little longer.
The conversations around the dinner table—especially now as our older kids share their thoughts, their dreams, and who they’re becoming.
The laughter echoing through the house.
The little hands reaching for yours, and the older ones still choosing to stay close.
Those are the moments that fill our hearts.
Those are the moments that remind us what truly matters.
And while we’ve worked hard to create a life that allows us to be present with our children, this trip reminded me there was one more gift we desperately wanted to give them.
A gift that couldn’t be bought.
A gift no amount of money could ever replace.
The gift of knowing exactly who they are.
Growing up in Australia has been such a blessing. It’s where our children have been raised. It’s where they’ve gone to school, built lifelong friendships, and where Charlie and I have created a life we’re incredibly grateful for.
But there has always been something quietly sitting on my heart.
A dream.
A promise I made to myself many years ago.
That one day, we would take our babies home.
Not just to one place.
But to both of their whenua.
To my whenua.
To Charlie’s whenua.
To the places where their tūpuna walked long before us.
The places where our stories began.
The places where generations of our whānau have lived, loved, laughed, cried, and left their footprints for us to follow.
We never wanted our children to only hear stories about where they came from.
We wanted them to experience it.
Because there’s a difference between hearing about your whakapapa and standing where your whakapapa began.
There’s a difference between seeing photos of your whenua and feeling it beneath your feet.
There’s a difference between hearing stories about your whānau and sitting beside them, listening to their laughter, sharing kai, embracing one another, and feeling a love that words can never quite explain.
As I watched our babies running across the whenua, laughing with whānau, hugging cousins, hearing te reo spoken around them, and simply belonging, I realised something.
The greatest gift we could ever give our children wasn’t something wrapped in paper.
It wasn’t a holiday.
It wasn’t material things.
It was belonging.
It was identity.
It was making sure they knew that they carry both of our stories.
Both of our whakapapa.
Both of our whenua.
There were moments during those ten days where I quietly stepped back and simply watched.
Watched them laugh.
Watched them explore.
Watched them connect—our younger ones with wide-eyed wonder, and our teenagers with a deeper understanding of where they come from.
And in those quiet moments, tears filled my eyes.
Not because I was sad.
But because my heart was overflowing with gratitude.
Gratitude that we made this happen.
Gratitude that our babies—no matter their age—will never have to wonder where they come from.
Gratitude that they now know they belong to something so much bigger than themselves.
I don’t know if they’ll fully understand what this trip meant to Charlie and me.
Maybe they won’t until they’re parents themselves.
Maybe one day they’ll look at their own children and feel the same pull we felt.
The desire to take them home.
To introduce them to their whenua.
To place their little feet where generations before them once stood.
If that day comes, I hope they’ll understand why this journey meant so much to us.
Because this trip was never just about visiting Aotearoa.
It was about giving our children roots strong enough to carry them wherever life takes them.
Because no matter where they go…
No matter what dreams they chase…
No matter how far they travel…
They will always carry both of their whenua within them.
And to me, that is one of the greatest gifts we could ever leave them.
Connect
Reach out anytime, I’m here to kōrero
contact
Enquiries
paulinegrayyy@gmail.com
+61 487328980
© 2025. All rights reserved.
books