How My Driving Record Became My Daughter's Ticket to Citizenship: Can Thomas Make It Through Customs?

What I've been up to the past few weeks/ year: Admin!

Living in two hemispheres—traveling back and forth between the rugged charm of Rapa Nui and the glitzy allure of the U.S.—used to feel glamorous. I love my off-the-grid lifestyle, relishing the serenity of island life, while the U.S. fulfilled my cravings for the more glamorous things: shopping, dining out, socializing, and the occasional urban adventure. But in this rapidly changing world, I can’t help but wonder: is being in the U.S. still glamorous? I’m starting to think not. The rules feel convoluted, the twists keep coming, and the uncertainty surrounding what’s right and wrong makes me question if America is still a place I want to call home.

And so begins my tale, filled with twists, turns, and a shocking number of speeding tickets. It all starts back when I was 16, cruising through life like I owned the road. My 16 year old heart racing, pulling over as those red and blue lights flash behind me. I calmly explained to the officer that I was merely testing the limits of my vehicle. He let me go with a warning, which felt like winning the lottery—until a week later when I got caught speeding again. And just like that, the universe decided I was destined to be the queen of the speeding ticket!

There was even a time I got three tickets in just 30 minutes from the same officer. When he pulled me over for the third time, I jokingly asked, “What, do you want to make out or something?” He did not. Thankfully, I managed to avoid any accidents—I’m a good driver, just a bit too enthusiastic about speed. When I’m deep in thought, my foot gets heavy, and the speedometer starts climbing.

Now, let’s leap ahead to the birth of my daughter, River, on a misty November morning in our unfinished guest cabin in Rapa Nui. No midwife in sight, just me and Thomas delivering her like we were starring in a chaotic reality show. Three weeks later, we finally ventured into town to obtain her birth certificate—a mundane bureaucratic activity that set off a chain reaction of administrative madness.

In early 2024, I dove headfirst into the bureaucratic labyrinth of securing River’s U.S. citizenship. She was still a visitor in the U.S. at that point, and I knew I needed to act fast. Armed with questions and a hefty stack of documents, I marched into the local passport office, optimistic. I submitted everything, paid the expedited fee, and felt buoyed by hope—until, of course, I got the dreaded denial letter. Apparently, her birth certificate wasn’t good enough because the issuance date didn’t match her birth date. I mean, come on! Who knew birth certificates had to be made on the day of birth? Where was this information during all my private education?

After countless visits to passport offices in Connecticut and New Hampshire, I learned that the Chilean government needed to validate the birth certificate before we could proceed. But here’s the kicker: we couldn’t do that from an embassy; we needed to do it within the country. So we flew back to Rapa Nui, where I thought, “This is fine, we’ve got this!” We did not.

After six months in Rapa Nui, we finally got her birth certificate approved, and I thought, “Okay, downhill from here!” So we flew to Santiago to finish the process at the US embassy. But no, the fun was just beginning. They now didn’t believe that I, an American-born citizen with a U.S. passport, was actually a citizen. So I had to prove my citizenship by providing “adequate proof” of five consecutive years of residence after the age of 15. I started compiling every piece of documentation I could think of: tax IDs, school transcripts (which was tough since I didn’t finish high school or got to college), W-2s, pay stubs, leases, property deeds, utility bills, medical records, credit scores—the list went on and on. And they denied all of it as proof of citizenship.

Then, at the final hour—literally 15 minutes before it was my last opportunity to provide any additional information—I had a lightbulb moment. I thought about my speeding tickets. Yes, you heard that right—my prized collection of traffic violations! Those little pieces of paper suddenly became my saving grace, providing proof of my identity and residency, complete with dates and times. To my utter disbelief, the U.S. embassy accepted my speeding records as valid evidence of my citizenship. Who knew my bad driving could be my daughter’s ticket to citizenship? But that’s the delightful chaos of modern bureaucracy for you.

After 15 months of this wild ride, two denials, ten days in Santiago, eight consecutive days at the U.S. embassy, 60 frantic phone calls to the emergency line, and nearly 100 speeding tickets, we finally secured River’s emergency U.S. passport. But still, the saga wasn’t over.

Upon returning to the U.S., we faced yet another challenge at JFK airport. Despite River’s shiny new U.S. passport, the border officials were skeptical and nearly turned her away. Thankfully, we made it through and are now home in the U.S. at last!

While this all turned out in my favor and I can laugh about it now, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky twice. My heart races at the thought of Thomas arriving in May. The plan is for him to come on his ESTA visa, just like the times before, so he can be there for the birth and stick around for a few months before we all return to the island together. But I can’t shake the fear that he might be sent back to Chile, or worse detained. He is, after all, a man from South America who speaks mainly Spanish— traveling alone.

Now, life at border control feels increasingly unpredictable. I've heard endless stories from people—friends and strangers alike—about family members trying to visit the U.S. from countries like Germany, Argentina, and Canada, only to be turned away at the border.

So, here’s my question: does anyone have any insight on this? As I navigate the pros and cons of Thomas trying to enter the U.S., I’d love to hear from anyone with experience or advice. How do we insure that he can be here for the birth of our next daughter. Any tips, stories, or sage wisdom would be greatly appreciated!