Trading Morocco for the UK to Be a Mom

On December 31st 2025, I was the most content I’d ever been. I’d spent many New Year’s Eves alone, ruminating over a glass of wine about the year ahead, as my life remained as directionless and uncertain as the year before. The curse of a nomadic soul, I suppose.

But not this year. This year was the year of the fire horse, and I had decided to take the reins and direct my life towards the goals I’d wanted to achieve for so long, but never believed to be possible for me: to have somewhere to truly call home.

I’d spent the last three years living in Morocco, but I never thought of it as home. It was just where I happened to be until I decided what I really wanted to do with my life. Over the years, however, I had accumulated a close circle of good friends, two cats, a partner, a small fortune of dreamy Moroccan home decor, and I was in the early stages of building a local business.

Looking around at the life I had inadvertently built at the end of 2025, I realized I had all the ingredients I wanted for a home; I just needed to make it official. So, for the first time in my life, I made a solid New Year’s plan: to apply for residency, buy a car, find a bigger place, and focus on building my small business. I was here to stay.

Surrounded by friends and loved ones, I rang in the new year with genuine excitement and motivation for the year ahead for the first time in years, with absolutely no clue how significant that night would really be. Three weeks later, my partner and I found out we were going to be parents.

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Seeing Morocco Through a Mother’s Eyes

It might sound obvious to some, but when I decided to establish Morocco as my home, I didn’t consider whether it was where I’d like to expand my family and raise children. After all, it took me three years to finally admit I was living there, so I wasn’t sure I’d ever see a day when I’d be committed to motherhood.

Everything I’ve done in my life was to satisfy the here and now, not to benefit my future self. The paradigm of becoming a parent is that life is no longer about you; it’s about your child and how you want to raise it in the world. By no means did the prospect of becoming a mother make me wish I’d have done anything differently in life, but it did make me question my next moves. It was less than one month into my ‘year of commitment’, and I found myself asking: should I leave?

As much as I loved Morocco, I was now looking at it through a completely new lens, a mother’s lens, I guess. I was located in a small but bustling surf and yoga town called Tamraght, which is populated by a strange mixture of excitable tourists, career-focused digital nomads and expats, and traditional local villagers. The lifestyle is relaxed and slow-paced, yet vibrant and sociable, making it the kind of place that attracts those who are young, free, and single.

As an expectant mother, I suddenly felt like I was singled out from the crowd. I couldn’t relate to the carefree people around me anymore, and I wasn’t interested in what Tamraght had to offer. I craved a new kind of community, one where family was put first. Not only so that I could access the help and support I knew I’d need, but so that my child could grow up with their own tribe of little likeminded friends.

It wasn’t just Tamraght I’d seen in a new way since becoming an expectant mother; it was Morocco as a whole. Now that I had a new life to consider, I was forced to pay attention to things that were previously unimportant to me, starting with education and healthcare. Local schools were out of the question, since Moroccan Arabic and French were the primary languages, neither of which my partner or I spoke. The only English-speaking schools were expensive private schools in cities like Casablanca and Marrakech, and this didn’t suit our family either. We lived by the beach for a reason.

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As for healthcare? Well, I had the ‘opportunity’ to experience it first hand after suffering from severe morning sickness in my first trimester. I stayed at a private international clinic in Agadir, which, in fairness, was spotlessly clean, had excellent staff who spoke clear English, and its rooms had a private balcony with palm tree views. Honestly, I was pleasantly surprised by my experience, all things considered.

Yet, there was an unshakeable unease I felt about being treated in a foreign country that led me to rule out the possibility of giving birth in Morocco or leaving my child’s health in the hands of an unfamiliar system. Even with the best health insurance to provide us care in the country’s finest hospitals, there is greater room for error between unavoidable healthcare gaps, like language barriers and lower pharmaceutical standards.

Practicalities aside, I also found myself considering the religion and values of where I lived in a way I hadn’t before. I used to thrive living in a country with a culture so distinguished from my own, but now that I am a mother, I have to consider how our environment influences our child’s thoughts and behavior.

As an adult, I can uphold my own values in a culture that doesn’t reflect my ideologies, but children are much more impressionable. I realized, it’s important for me to raise my child in a progressive society where my values, like equality and freedom of expression, are normalized. Although no country has this fully figured out, Morocco is unfortunately far down the list in this respect.

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The Real Reason I Had to Leave

The deeper I thought about it, the clearer it became that the place I was so excited to put down real roots in December 2025 seemed like the last place I wanted to be by January 2026. But in reality, my urge to leave was based on something much simpler and more fundamental than Morocco’s education system, healthcare, and religious values: I needed my mom.

I was about to go through one of the biggest changes in my life, and as independent as I’ve always been, I was wise enough to know I couldn’t do this journey without the comfort, familiarity, and support of my family around me. For over a decade, I wanted to be anywhere but England, and I sacrificed so much to ensure I had the personal and financial freedom to live elsewhere, but now that I’m about to bring a child into the world, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Despite my certainty in the decision to return to England to have our baby, it was no less grievous. Whilst my partner and I were excited about this new chapter in our lives, it felt like we were losing the people we had become in Morocco, and giving up everything we had built. Holding these two truths simultaneously was often hard and filled us with guilt, as if we weren’t grateful enough for our baby because we were sad to leave our old life behind, but we knew that wasn’t true.

Creating a life for yourself abroad is a tremendous, life-changing achievement that deserves much more recognition for the strength, determination, and sacrifices it requires. You built that life from scratch, cultivated friendships, developed routines, frequented your favorite coffee spots, and synced with the town’s rhythm. How could it be easy to walk away from that, regardless of what lies on the path ahead? Nothing could have prepared me to leave the life I built behind, no matter how certain or necessary it was.

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Packing Up a Life

The emotional upheaval I faced by the sudden reality of moving back to a place I thought I’d never return to was only heightened by the logistical process of moving continents after being settled for three years. Remember all the dreamy Moroccan home decor I accumulated? Not to mention my two cats. Well, I wasn’t prepared to let any of it go, much to my partner’s dismay.

The problem was that, although I’d moved countries plenty of times in my life, I never had much more than a backpack to my name before. This time, I was tasked with packing up my home, selling the personal belongings I was persuaded to part with, and figuring out how to transport two cats across continents. All whilst dealing with the daily sickness, fatigue, dehydration, and subsequent infections caused by my pregnancy. Needless to say, it was rough.

Watching my first real home get emptied and condensed into suitcases made everything feel all too real, but our flights were booked, and there was no going back.

Before we knew it, it was time to fly to England, three blurry and stressful months after finding out we were having a baby. Although leaving was a gradual process that took plenty of preparation, I would never have felt prepared to go, no matter how tight I hugged my friends goodbye.

In many ways, they had become my family. We cooked meals together, held each other through difficult times, and shared our dreams of living abroad. Sometimes, I think there’s no friendship quite like the ones you make in a foreign land because, being away from family, you need each other just that little bit more. In the end, I had to rip off the band-aid and not look back. Off we went with four suitcases and two cats to the airport, next destination: parenthood.

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The Great Escape (The Cat, Not Me)

For some reason, the UK doesn’t allow pets to fly directly into the country. They do, however, allow them to be driven in, and so we were faced with a long, convoluted journey from Morocco to England. Firstly, we’d fly to Paris, France, where my hero of a brother would meet us, having driven from England the day before. From there, we would drive four hours to the Eurotunnel, glide beneath the English Channel, and then drive another four hours to our final destination in England. The final hurdle towards our new home was a big one, and, unfortunately, it was anything but smooth.

As we were going through Agadir airport security, my ‘spirited’ Moroccan (former street) cat decided he didn’t want to go to England, where he’d have a warm home and lush green garden to run around in, and so he made a great escape from his carrier, through the crowded security line, towards the airport exit.

For a moment, as I pushed through the crowds following his disappearing tail, I thought I was never going to see him again. Turns out, though, he wasn’t as street-smart as he thought, and I eventually caught up to him and convinced him to get back in his carrier with a few threats and false promises of a tuna steak for dinner.

‘Was this my first taste of real motherhood?’ I thought, as we boarded the plane, praying that they would sleep through the journey and not disturb other passengers.

Although my partner lost some belongings on the flight, and his will to live on the eight-hour car journey home, we all eventually made it to England safely. The colossal task of moving countries was finally behind us, and we could now focus on our new life as parents. If only it were that easy.

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England, For Now

The transition we’ve been through, having said goodbye to my dear Morocco whilst acclimating to England, wasn’t immediate or easy. From finding a car and somewhere to live, to catching up on midwife appointments and scans, the first few weeks back in England were too busy for our new reality to truly sink in.

Only now, as I write this three weeks in, am I realizing the magnitude of it all. Every parent I share my doubts with says the same thing: ‘Don’t worry, having a baby is so worth it!’ I’m sure they’re right, because if there’s one thing I have learned throughout my travels, it is that love and connection are the most important things in this world, and I am about to experience this in its greatest form.

Leaving the first place I’d ever learned to call home was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I know it was necessary to bring our baby into the world with the utmost love, safety, and support. However, I have learned to acknowledge that it doesn’t make the relocation any less bittersweet.

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Although I have so much to look forward to in my new life, I know I’ll never see the version of me who lived carefree in Morocco again. If you’ve ever lived abroad, you’ll know that you leave a piece of your heart in each place you call home, no matter how long or short your stay, and therefore, it will somehow always be broken, longing for the feeling it gave you that nowhere else could.

But within this heartbreak, we have to remember that although you’ll feel forever fragmented, as if there’s a part of you, probably a younger, freer part of you, left behind somewhere, it’s a part of you that you’d never have gotten to know if you stayed in one place. And that’s one of the biggest privileges to experience in life.

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One day, when I have found my feet as a mom and feel brave enough to wander through the world with my child on my back, I will make sure they have this privilege, too. England isn’t forever, it’s another stepping stone on an evermore exciting journey through this big, wide world we live in. This time, as a family.

But for now, this next season of life is about learning to embrace my home country for the first time, and soak in the comforts of family, familiarity, and the sense of safety and belonging it will provide for the beginning of our baby’s life.

Conclusion

What Pregnancy Changed About Expat Life

Pregnancy did not make me regret living abroad. It made me think differently about what stability means. Before, home was about freedom, friendship, sunshine, and the life I had built for myself. After becoming pregnant, home became about support, safety, healthcare, family, and the kind of future I wanted my child to grow into.

That shift was painful because both versions of home were real. Morocco was not wrong for me. It was simply no longer the place I needed for the season of life I was entering.

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About the Author

Emily Draper is an experienced travel and lifestyle writer and editor from the UK who has written for brands including Culture Trip, Hidden Compass, and tourism boards in Greenland, Luxembourg, and Copenhagen. She has travelled to over 70 countries across all seven continents, now calling Morocco her home.

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