The First Six Months in Abu Dhabi as a New Mum Are Weird. Here’s the Honest Guide.

“It’ll be amazing for the kids.” And it will be. Eventually.

What nobody properly explains is the strange middle bit between landing and actually feeling settled. The bit where your entire life exists in shipping boxes, your baby has forgotten what night-time is, and you’re standing in a supermarket staring at seventeen different brands of yoghurt wondering why you suddenly feel like crying in public. That’s the part this guide is for. Because your partner’s company will hand over a relocation pack thick enough to stop a door, but absolutely none of it prepares you for sitting on the floor of a serviced apartment at 4am Googling: “best paediatrician Abu Dhabi Reddit” while eating dry toddler crackers because you forgot to buy actual food. HR are not the people to ask. I am.

Even the mums who look settled. Especially the mums who look settled.

The woman posting beach club photos from Saadiyat two weeks after landing. The influencer with the matching neutral linen outfits. The mum at soft play saying: “Oh my God we just LOVE it here.” None of them are lying exactly. But they’re skipping the weird bits. The bit where you suddenly realise you haven’t had a proper adult conversation in days. The bit where hearing another British accent in Waitrose feels oddly emotional. The bit where you spend AED 400 on “just a few things” and leave with three bags and no actual meals. The bit where your child chooses the exact moment you’re sorting Emirates ID paperwork to completely lose their mind.

You will become emotionally attached to a delivery driver.

The air-conditioning indoors is aggressive enough to preserve meat. You will sweat through clothing walking from the car park to the entrance of somewhere approximately seven metres away. Someone will casually mention having: - a nanny - a cleaner - a driver - and a “helper” …and you’ll briefly wonder if everyone here is operating on a completely different difficulty setting. Your child will ask to play outside in August and you’ll laugh like somebody who’s seen war.

Realising it’s 3pm and your only conversation all day has been: “Please stop licking that.”

You start missing tiny things from home that never mattered before. Someone popping round unannounced. A friend who knows your coffee order. Hearing familiar slang. And because Abu Dhabi is so safe, clean and functional on the surface, people assume settling in emotionally should be straightforward too. Sometimes it isn’t.

Nobody tells you relocation is mostly PDFs and mild psychological warfare.

Residence visa and Emirates ID first because absolutely everything depends on them: - bank accounts - tenancy contracts - school applications - phone contracts - your general will to live Politely chase your partner’s employer if things stall. And if politely stops working, become slightly less polite. At some point a typing centre employee will know more about your family than some relatives do. Genuinely humbling experience.

“We should definitely meet sometime!” Which is the international language of absolutely nothing happening.

Expat mums are tired. Everyone’s calendar looks mildly deranged. You need specifics. Send: “Are you free Thursday morning? Fancy coffee after rhyme time?” That works. Vague plans disappear into the abyss. Specific plans survive.

You just need another adult nearby who understands why you currently look slightly haunted.

Most mums in Abu Dhabi who now have proper friendships will tell you the same thing: it took time. Usually around six months. The first few months are survival mode. Then gradually: - you recognise faces - someone remembers your child’s name - school pickup feels less awkward - you stop getting lost - you find your coffee place - you work out which playgrounds actually have shade after 10am And somewhere around month six, your life starts feeling less temporary.

You nearly cancel three times.

You spend twenty minutes deciding what to wear even though it’s literally just coffee. You arrive awkwardly early. Your child immediately behaves like they’ve never seen another human before. You stand near the drinks wondering if everybody already knows each other. And then another mum says: “How long have you been here?” And weirdly, that’s how it starts.

Because somewhere in Abu Dhabi right now, there’s another mum sitting on the floor of a serviced apartment eating toddler snacks for dinner wondering if moving here was a massive mistake. She probably just needs another mum to text back.

Ready to prioritise yourself? Join our mum community and find your people.

This is Eklektik Mama. Where we raise hell and humans, together.

Instagram | Weekly Newsletter | Abu Dhabi Events | Membership | Merch