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*27 weeks: GIRLS NIGHT!

Baby girl, have I told you how excited I am to become a mom of THREE girls? It’s like the coolest thing ever is happening to me.
In the beginning of this pregnancy, everything felt so different, I was sure you would be a boy. When it turned out you weren’t, I was shocked. Your Daddy on the other hand, needed about a millisecond to be excited for his third Baby girl. And of course I joined him shortly after – now I feel so thankful for the little girl-tribe I get to be with.

Once you get to know all of us properly, you will find out, that you father is a very strong man. But even the strongest one can only go so long without a little outside testosterone. Ahem. So „guys night out“ is the new thing we establish around here, which ever so conveniently results in „girls night in“! Hooray! So much fun!
So for a weekend, your Daddy went on a little snow-adventure in Switzerland and us girls had the best. time. ever. There was ice-cream in bed. And popcorn at the puppet theater. And just lots of special girls moment.
We will practive our *awesome-girls-night-routine* and I am sure we will have it DOWN, once you arrive. We can’t wait for you to join us!

P.S. My best friend (hi Beth!) pointed out to me, that I don’t even look pregnant in this picture. I told Dominik about it and we laughed SO hard. She hasn’t seen me (that’s the dumb thing about a best friend, who lives in Alaska) and she is of course right about the picture. But in real life? Safe to say I look PLENTY pregnant.

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*26 weeks: decluttering life

Baby, it’s safe to say I am in full-on nesting mode.
We currently have a Netflix account, so while we do, I watch Marie Kondos documentary, declutter my life and only keep things that „spark joy“. It is SO GOOD. I got rid of two thirds of the girls toys in the living room and they don’t even miss anything. It feels sooo refreshing! It’s almost scary what a powerful impact it has on my mood and my well-being.
Whenever your Daddy can’t find something, he shruggs and says – „well, she has probably discarded it“. So let’s hope, in my rage of cleaning out EVERYTHING, that we still have the essentials for your arrival :)

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*25 weeks: You’re not alone.

When I was working out, a little while ago, this song started playing and I was surprised by how it hit me. „You’re not alone…“ A tear fell down on my yoga mat, as I realized: I have felt so very alone. So entirely isolated in this experience, that is so immensly different for every woman. I am sure, most joys and pains of pregnancy and early childhood years are very universal and so many can relate to so many single issues. Still, the overall experience is not quite compareable. I remember things mostly foggy from my pregnancies or the time after, but I remember vividly, that the second time around it was a dark and rough time – for month and month. Being alone in charge of two, a newborn and a two-year-old, not functioning well with my hurting body and my sleep-deprived mind – was the most overwhelming time of my life. A big part of the challenge in parenting is, that you need to deal with what you’ve been given. And I struggled with that. I struggled with not being in charge of my own life, but letting the force of nature be. I wish I could say I made my peace with it, but I have not. I was terrified, to hold another positive pregnacy test as much as I was ecstatic to welcome another little soul into our family. We longed for you, sweet Baby, we prayed and hoped for you. I am excited beyond words to meet you, but make no mistake, I am also terrified of the time ahead of me. It both excists in my heart. And I hope, one day, when you read this and are old enough to understand, you will see how much I loved you, so much in fact, that one day the missing-you in our family grew bigger than my fear. And we leaped. And now you’re on your way.

Since I find it so hard to put into words what my experience was like the last time, it makes me so much more alone. Your Daddy is on my side, of course, but there is no way in the world, he could ever understand everything I have been through. He makes an effort to try, though. And so does God. And God recently told me:
actually, you’re not alone.

You see, if you look at this picture closely it is sort of funny (cause it is very obvious), that I am in fact not alone. You’re right there with me. In the same way, you are not alone, because I am all around you. I’ve begun to understand, that that is what God tries to whiper to me every day. „You’re not alone, I am all around you.“ So as I walk – sometimes brave and strong, sometimes weary and fearful – into this challenging season of birth and post-partum and the first year with a newborn as a mom of three, I try to remember this: As much as it feels like it some days, I am not alone. And neither are you.

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*23 weeks

My alarm goes off at 6 something a.m. and my bed is peaceful and heavenly warm. So heavenly warm! But reason wins – I can’t face this day without a coffee in peace – so I make my way down to the kitchen, shivering in the cold. When the coffee is ready, the remaining family members have already knocked to tell me to come upstairs three times. Armored with my coffee, I make my way upstairs to face the drill of my kids putting on cloth. The five-year-old is cooperating to my surprise, but the three-year-old is – well, three. She refuses to wear anything but a dress. There are tears and kicks. We head downstairs, the adventcalender needs to be opened and the favorite pair of gloves is nowhere to be found. There are two other options for gloves, both entirely unacceptable for my five-year-old. When we finally leave the house, the loss of time is tolerable, the loss of my patience is absolutely not. „Those kids“, as a friend has put it so wisely one day, „those kids, they just don’t function the way they should“. Ahem. We take a different route than usual, because no-one listens to me and my fingers are freezing, cause guess who happily wears my gloves now? We pass the crosswalk and I silently thank God that it went smoothly, the traffic is so crazy at this time a day. Why, I start wondering, why do we do this to ourselves? Starting the day in such a crazy and stressful way seems nothing but wrong. How can life be this exhausting, right after we woke up?
We arrive at the Kindergarten and even though I don’t usually do this, I take off all the little coats and gloves and heats and kids shoes and put on slippers, because maybe, through a miracle of bending time, I will make it to my appointment in time. Love is sworn, kisses are blown and shortly after, I sit in the waiting room, still breathing heavy from riding my bike in the rain. I look over the skyline of the city, all beautiful and crisp and wonder what this day will bring. My husband will sign this contract today, this contract, that will professionally keep him – and us with him – in this city for the next years. School will start in the fall, will that mean, that those stressful mornings are here to stay?! We will also meet with the bank today, to look into buying a place to live (not that we plan that, but still) and all of this feels suddenly huge and meaningful and also heavy and very, very -uhm, tied down. Oh boy. I suddenly feel the strong urge to pack up my family and leave the country. Then my name is called.
The doctor says: „it will be a bit cold“ and then rubs glibbery stuff on my belly. The room is quiet and dark and the thoughts in my head are still swirling and then – I suddenly see you. I see you. And everything seems to fall into place, seems to quiet down. Somewhere far away, I hear the doctor say „it’s a girl!“ and after that, can’t see or hear anything else anymore. All I see is you. Your perfect form, the bones in your body, the tiny fingers you hold in front of your face. For a moment, you look exactly like your sister, the one, who is crazy about dresses and I feel silent tears dripping down my face and drop on the cushion that is covered with a paper towel. You are here. You are a miracle. Your body is a miracle. And mine is, too. While things have been a wild whirlwind here on the outside, the job commitements, the house hunting plans, the children and the traffic, the thousand little and big troubles of this pregnancy, that drain so much of my energy – all this wild chaos outside and inside? Inside, my body has helped build yours, all those teeny tiny bones of your little spine are in place and all those organs are working. Everything is being build by this secret and miraculous plan my body knows all by itself. While I ache and groan and my head can’t stop swirling, you are being build. Althought I don’t contribute anything consiously, althought I didn’t do anything to earn this.
Thank you, my miraculous and wonderful daughter. My head stopped swirling today and I put it straight into a cloud, dreaming of you and this miracle inside my body, all day long.

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*22 weeks: head in the clouds

My dear, sweet Babe. I would put my head in the clouds, if I could. We are looking for a new place to live for the next years and it’s making my mind swirl. You Daddy is putting his signature on a contract for a huge project, that will consume his work life in many ways for many years. And you know – I’m up for change, I like new beginnings, I say bring it on with the challenge, but yes. I also wanna put my head in the clouds. I wanna have peace of mind and dream of my days ahead with you.
Do you wanna dream with me?

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*21 weeks: the nest

My dear sweet Baby. I bet, when you are able to read this one day, you’ve heard the story a thousand times. The story of us waiting for you and me being impatient after about one week (you will also have found out by then, that patience is not exactly my strong suit. Ahem). So while I was waiting and praying for you and also for our new home, one day, God gave me great encouragement through a picture. In the summer, when the windows where open, a dove had gotten into my sacret attic space, where I sit and write each day, and this dove managed to build a small nest and in this nest, there was an egg. And egg and a nest – exactly the two things I have been praying for and longing for, this whole time.  And two weeks later, I took a pregancy test, that was positive. Hooray, YOU are on the way! I hoped, we will also find a new place to live by the time you arrive, but actually, we are still looking and the chances of us moving are shrinking by the minute. So when I talked to my great friend and even greater spiritual director Kristian about it, he gently offered some helpful advice: we are pretty good at seeing Gods signs and the ways, he talks to us. But there is more than one way to interpret those signs (and we’re sometimes not equally skilled at interpreting, ahem). I saw a nest and an egg. And the egg-part has become reality and well, right now, you my little egg are settled in the best nest there is. You are safe and warm, nourished and protected – by me. I am your nest. This new perspective brought a whole new wave of encouragement. Cause Baby, I wanna keep being your nest, just like I am for your sweet sisters. And while I have a tendency to spot all the little wholes and flaws, I am actually a good nest.
So sit tight, little Baby birdy. We may not have a new place to live, once you arrive, but I promise, you will have a warm and safe nest with us.

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*19 weeks: pregnant diva alert

Oh, dear sweet Babe. You have no idea what you turn me into.
You know – I used to be a tought little gal. I was determined, I was strong, I had the willpower to do about anything in the world. I always had a soft side, yes, but there was no hint of princess attitude about me.
And now? Now I am a lot to take. For the dear ones around me, but also for myself. I tell your Daddy in the evening – yes, you come home and think this pregnant diva is annoying, but I had to deal with her all day long! Let me tell you – it’s not easy.
Oh, the food sensitivities. Nothing is allowed on the menue and then a couple of ok-things are dismissed for not being tasty. (Hence the handbag full of lemons, cause apparently lemons are tasty. Who knew?)
And oh, the sensual sensitivities. No harsh smell, sounds or gross sights, please. Too stressful. (minus the sound, maybe, cause I am practically deaf. I can hear the person standing next to me, but that person standing two arm length away can talk all they want. I won’t hear).
Oh, the sensitive nerves. I need a lot of time to process things. Especially all the things that miracilously transitioned from being mildly inconvenient, into unbearably annoying. (with „all the things“ I mean literally ALL the things). I wake up at night, violently shaking with bad dreams. I need to sleep in the middle of the day, to make up for it. I feel my heart beat heavy in situations that are medium interesting. Oh, and blushing is my superpower.
Oh, that amazing body of mine. While the belly is showing a cute little bump, I huff and puff like I am 10 full month pregnant, trying to make it to the delivery room in time. I feel uncomfortable most of the time. I cannot bend without groaning and I am not used to this belly as a part of my shape yet, so I bump it into things a lot (and then I groan. A lot). It’s all reeeally graceful and flattering.

I cannot tell you, how ready I am to leave this -uhm, let’s say „different“ version of myself behind for good (you get no younger siblings, did I mention that? Yeah. That’s a done deal, sorry Babe. But you’ll be fine with the two excellent siblings we provide you with at birth. Just trust me on that one.)

But honestly, sweet Baby, I don’t wanna rush this stage. It’s mostly not fun for me, yes, but I know it’s what you need to prepare for your arrival and it’s also what I need to prepare for your arrival. So I will sit tight, groan and moan as I go and and tell the rebel in me to show some respect for that whining diva and for how much this diva still rocks. I mean, I kept the full load of my work and duties and I still do a good job (whilst complaining, but hey, the work gets done). Even when I was gaging in front of the meat isle at the grocery store (I was so sick, I couldn’t stand seeing food, even from a distance) – I still got the job done every week.
Your oldest sister wanted to know about the expression of people being „an expert in their field“ and I explained it to her. She promptly responded, that my field seem to be „loving my children“ and I’m an expert. I loose my patience more often than I care to admit, but oh, I humbly and gratefully take that compliment. I might be a pregnant diva, but I still seem get some important things right.
So here’s to being a little extra-sensitive, extra-annoyed, extra-everything. I would still say – you and I?
We totally rock.


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*18 weeks: understatement of the year

Oh, my dear Baby, it really IS the understatement of the year to say you are highly anticipated. Your sisters are so thrilled and cannot wait to finally meet you. When we told them about you on the morning of the first ultrasound, we did a little treasure hunt with notes troughout the house. Your oldest sister kept jumping up and down after they found the „treasure“ and she kept saying „this is the best treasure of all times!!“. It was too cute. She has now the perfect height to hug and kiss my belly directly and will do so mulitple times a day.
Your other sister is SO proud that you will make her a big sister, too. She keeps telling people, she will be a big sister. And trust me, when I tell you: She will take her job as big sister VERY seriously. She has been practising a lot with her dolls after all. In the first week, after we told them, she would wake up every morning, open her eyes and promptly ask, if you were here already.
Of all the things that I expected with a third pregnancy – the joy and delight and anticipation of your sisters was a complete and sweet surprise. It’s so fun to watch and I am sure their excitement for you will only increase in the spring.

Kommentare 3

the best idea

You, my little Baby, you are awesome. You are so loved and so wanted. Your big sisters can’t wait to meet you (in fact, they asked every morning for a solid week, if you have finally arrived). You are prayed for and hoped for and longed for. It’s so good to have you on the way.
But to be honest with you: It was the best idea we had this summer, but I have been paying for it for all of autumn. Life in the last weeks and month was horrible. I have too many physical issues, too many emotional issues, too much of everything. Except patience that is. So I am slowing plowing my way through the jungle of pregnancy, through the waves of hormones, through the food-challenges  and the life-without-coffee-challenge and the never-ending nausea. Practicing grace with myself, saying „I’m sorry“ every day, learning once again how incredibly bendable we are as human beings to change (current or long term). Even change  that makes us a different person (and by „a different person“, I actually mean „a difficult person“. Ugh.).  More than once I thought „this is too much to carry“, but I am learning that I am indeed strong enough for this. Strong enough to have you with me, strong enough to give you everything you need.
So welcome, my sweet Babe, to my belly*report series, that starts today. I will document our time together every week and I will make an effort not to complain all the time. Promise.
You are a true miracle and that is not lost on me.
Thank God you are here.

Eine pregnante Bini

P.S. belly*report #1 + belly*report #2!

Kommentare 2

Über die Sache mit dem Kater und die Frage, warum gewollte Veränderungen eigentlich auch so schwer sind.

Wir waren in diesem Sommer in einem wunderschönen Berghotel in Tirol. Traumhaft. Allein die Tatsache, dass jemand für mich Essen kocht, den Tisch deckt und nach dem Essen alles abräumt – der Wahnsinn. Wir haben ein Eröffnungsschnäppchen beim Jochelius gemacht und können es nur wärmstens empfehlen! Vor allem auch, weil wir ein besonderes Extra vom Hotel bekommen haben – einen kleinen Kater.


„Was sind das für Menschen, die aus dem Urlaub Tiere mitbringen?“, habe ich mich früher gefragt. Hm, ups. Ich scheine so ein Mensch zu sein. Aber von allen Familienmitgliedern habe ich mich definitiv am meisten dagegen gesträubt (am meisten = als Einzigste. Ahem.)
„Wie wird mein Leben, mein Alltag sein mit Katze?“, habe ich mich gefragt. Ich werde ja das Futter kaufen. Ich werde bestimmt das Katzenklo sauber machen (bisher tut das aber der weltbeste Ehemann, er hat seinen Titel wirklich verdient! Oh ja.) Aber ich werde mehr Zeit mit dem Kater verbringen und mehr für ihn sorgen, als die drei anderen Familienmitglieder, die ja mit ihren eigenen Berufen beschäftigt sind (die einen mit Kind-sein, der andere mit Geld für den Katzenfutter-Kauf-verdienen.)

Als wir also im Auto saßen – drei seelige Menschen, ein seeliger Kater und ich – da machte sich in meinem Herzen ein durchaus schales Gefühl breit. Wir fuhren zurück in unsere Heimat, in unser Leben. Aber es würde anders werden. Oh nein! Dabei mag ich mein Leben!

Und dann machte es beinahe hörbar „wuuuusch“ (für drei seelige Menschen und einen seeligen Kater vielleicht nicht, aber für mich schon) und mit den Zauberkräften der emotionalen Zeitreise war ich fünf Jahre zurück katapultiert. In genau diese drei Tage im Juni 2013, die außergewöhnlich heiß waren…

Ich saß in meinem Bett und schwitzte. Die Trombosestrümpfe halfen nicht unbedingt. Sie halfen mir auch nicht dabei, mich optisch einigermaßen ansprechend zu fühlen, jetzt, wo dieser mehrere Tonnen schwere, schwangere Bauch nicht mehr kräftig spannte, sondern sich viel zu viel Haut in meiner Körpermitte tummelte. Ugh. Ich saß also da und der Milcheinschuss kam und ich schwitze noch ein bisschen mehr. Und darum weinte ich auch. Unter anderem. Ich weinte auch, weil mein Baby so schön war und so gesund. Ich weinte, weil es so brav trank und schlief. Ich hatte riesiges Glück mit genau diesem Baby, aber es traf mich mit voller Breitseite, dass sich mein Leben, mein Alltag, alles was ich bin und habe dramatischst verändern würde. Und ich nicht das Geringste dagegen tun kann. (und ja auch nicht will! Immerhin habe ich mir diese Veränderung jahrelang und genau dieses Kind monatelang gewünscht.) Und trotzdem, trotzdem ließ es meine Knie schlottern und meine Tränenkanäle weiten, dass alles anders sein wird. Und ich das Kind nicht mehr zurück geben kann und sagen „Nichts für ungut! Aber ich will mein Leben zurück, Bitte, Danke. Guten Tag.“

Ich habe noch ein wenig darüber nachgedacht – also später, als mein Gehirn nicht mehr so vernebelt war von den Stillhormonen. Es ist eine traurige Wahrheit, dass unerwartete, schlimme Veränderungen, wie Schicksalsschläge hart sind. Aber wieso dürfen denn gewollte und positive Verändungen auch schwierig sein? Wer hat das denn erlaubt? Und ich glaube, das Schwierige an Veränderungen ist, dass es meistens eine unsichere Komponente gibt, die man nicht beeinflussen kann, auf die man sich einlassen muss. Hm, einlassen. Dabei bin ich so sehr daran gewöhnt, sooo viele Optionen zu haben und sooo viel in meinem Leben gestalten zu können. Und darum stehe ich etwas baff und wie der Ochs vorm Berg vor den Tatsachen, die ich nicht gestalten kann. Die per Naturgewalt über mich kommen. (wie die Geburt und so viele Sachen, die danach kommen. Oder auch der unverhoffte Eigentum eines Katers, hehe. Und was der so unerwartetes mit sich bringt.)

Fest steht: Ich wollte die Veränderung. Dann kommt sie. Und dann denke ich: He! Ich mochte mein Leben! Es war gerade echt cool! Und jetzt ist es so.. so.. anders.

Die gute Nachricht ist: Das neue Leben mit Baby wurde auch echt sehr cool. Ooh ja. Und wie. Wir Menschen sind ja unfassbar flexibel und anpassungsfähig. Wir können uns auf zwei Tassen (!) Kaffee am Tag beschränken, wenn der Frauenarzt das vorschreibt. Wir können mit insgesamt 4 Stunden Schlaf in 30- minütigen Häppchen durch die Nacht kommen, wenn das kotzende Kleinkind das vorschreibt. Wir können uns dehnen, sehr buchstäblich und physisch, wir können uns klein machen und zurück nehmen und identitätsdefinierende Tätigkeiten in die Zeit des 45 minütigen Mittagsschlafs pressen. Wir können uns an so vieles gewöhnen – das Leben mit einem Neugeborenen oder auch das Leben mit einem Kater.

Um Himmels willen, nein, ich denke natürlich nicht, dass diese beiden Veränderungen für mich gleichwertig waren. Das blöde Vieh wird rausgeschmissen, wenn es nicht gut läuft.
(Aber den Kater behalten wir auf jeden Fall, hehe.)
(Das war ein böser Scherz, Entschuldigung, Uja-Oma!)

Jedenfalls, die Geschichte mit der Katze hat mich daran erinnert, dass die Sache mit den Veränderungen manchmal ganz schön schwer ist. Auch wenn man die Veränderung wirklich sehr wollte! Und: wie gut, dass es am Ende gut wird. (Für den Fall, dass hier jemand liest, der noch im schalen Geschmack der Veränderung steckt: es wird gut!!)

Und natürlich freue ich mich sehr berichten zu können, dass es ganz und gar herrlich ist, einen Kater zu haben. Er ist süß und lässt sich brav Kraulen (wenn er keine wichtigeren Katzen-Dinge zu tun hat, is klar). Doch, es ist wirklich schön. Auch wenn mir einige Horrorstorys erzählt wurden und ich direkt auch schon welche auf Lager habe… Unter anderem, dass die Summe, die wir wegen des ersten Katzenschnupfens beim Tierarzt gelassen haben, für ein Reihenendhaus gereicht hätte. Naja. Zum Abendessen gibt es Reis, Kinder. Ohne Soße. Zumindest für die nächsten 15-20 Jahre. So lange eben, wie wir dieses herrliche Tier haben.

Eine verkaterte Bini


Kommentare 2

Kopflos. [oder: Unvergessliche Momente des Gedächtnisschwundes]

[„Kopflos“, Kunstinstallation an der Toilettenwand. Aufkleber auf Tapete. Von Norali.]

Eine echte Unterhaltung an unserem echten Küchentisch von heute Morgen:

Ich: „Mir ist gestern Nacht wieder eingefallen, was ich dir noch unbedingt erzählen wollte!“
Der weltbeste Mann: „Ah, was war’s denn?“
Ich: „Keine Ahnung, ich hab’s wieder vergessen.“

Das Problem mit der Schwangerschafts- und Stilldemenz ist, dass sie gekommen ist, um zu bleiben. Obwohl ich schon lange nicht mehr stille, bin ich weiterhin fröhlich am Vergessen, ständig, überall und alles. Wechselkleider für die KiTa, Milch kaufen, Geburtstage und immer wieder gern: mein Portemonnaie.

Letztes Wochenende war ich mit der kleinen Milia beim Bäcker (mit Portemonnaie!!) und just in dem Moment, als mir das Kleingeld ausging, verlangte sie noch lautstark nach einer Laugenstange. Ich zeigte ihr meine restlichen sechzehn Cent und erklärte ihr, dass ich beim Rewe-Einkauf Geld abheben kann und wir auf dem Rückweg ihre Laugenstange kaufen können. (nebenbei: wie bizarr aus der Sicht eines Kindes, dass wir im Rewe Essen holen und obendrein Geld. Hmja).
Bloß kam ich an der Rewe-Kasse ins Schwitzen: Wieso war da nur ein Eierkarton? Hatte ich nicht zwei gekauft? Ich hatte einen zweiten in der Hand gehabt, dass weiß ich genau, habe ich ihn gedankenverloren zurück ins Regal gestellt? Eieiei (no pun intended). Während die äußerst verständnisvolle Kassiererin mir anbot, dass ich nochmal zum Eierregal hechte, ist mir durch den genaueren Blick in die Einkaufstüte klar geworden, dass ich die zweite Eierpackung nicht vergessen hatte zu kaufen, ich hatte nur vergessen, dass ich sie schon eingepackt hatte. Puh!
Tja und vor der Tür wollte die kleine Milia dann ihre Laugenstange kaufen gehen, aber das mit dem Geld abheben, hm, ja also, dass hatte ich in dem vergessene-Eier-Trubel leider auch vergessen.

So eine Kettenreaktion der Vergesslichkeit habe ich auch letzten Herbst auf dem Weg zum thanksgiving Dinner bei Freunden erlebt. Ich wollte gerade aufbrechen, schwer bepackt mit Nachtisch und allem Möglichen, als mir einfiel, dass ich noch crushed iced aus der Tiefkühltruhe im Erdgeschoss mitnehmen wollte. Im Erdgeschoss angekommen klingelte es aber an der Tür und ich musste ein Paket für die Christiane annehmen. Danach bin ich los und wollte ihr direkt schreiben, dass ihr Paket da ist. Allerdings ist mir dann das vergessene crushed ice eingefallen. Und über dem Gedanken darüber, ob ich nochmal zurück gehen sollte, habe ich dann vergessen der Christiane vom Paket zu schreiben.

Und die Moral von der Geschicht‘?

Die habe ich vergessen.

Eine     Bini

P.S: Noch jemand da draußen vergesslich?? Schreib mir deine schönste Vergesslichkeits-Geschichte in die Kommentare! (Oder irgendeine an die du dich erinnern kannst… ;)) Ich freu mich!