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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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*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.

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Von Tränen am Jogurtregal. [Und genereller Begeisterung für Hans Zimmer]

Hans Zimmer Zitat-1

Letzte Woche haben wir den Film „Score“ gesehen und ich war sehr inspiriert von dem obigen Hans Zimmer Zitat. Er beschrieb, wie seine Arbeit ihn manchmal durch quälende Phasen schickt. Und trotzdem sagt er: „I love, love, love what I do“. Wow.
Kurzerhand habe ich mich mal im Handlettering versucht – es ist nicht perfekt geworden, aber den Inhalt der Aussage habe ich währenddessen umgesetzt, hehe. Das Zitat hat mich daran erinnert, dass ich schon mal was geschrieben hatte, das mit Hans Zimmers Musik zu tun hatte. Also habe ich in meinen Entwürfen gekramt und voilá, ein Post aus Oktober 2016, der nie online ging. Da waren meine Mädchen 3 und 1 und ich am Rande meiner Kräfte. Und weil ich finde, dass man auch mal was Altes posten kann, mache ich das heute! Los geht’s:

Diese ganze unfassbare Kiste mit den Schwangerschaften und dem Kinder-kriegen-und-haben hat in mir so viel aufgewühlt und auf den Kopf gestellt. Ganz vorn dabei: Das „zu-viel-fühlen“.

Vor den Kindern war ich schon ein wenig sensibel, aber eher so, sagen wir „medium“. Ich wollte nie besondere Hege und Pflege haben, dafür war ich viel zu stolz. Statt einem zarten Pflänzchen war ich lieber eine toughe Sau und so wollte ich auch bleiben. Ich war unkompliziert, ich war selbstmotiviert, ich war vor allem unfassbar zielstrebig und ehrgeizig und staaahlhart.

Hmja. Und dann bin ich Mutter geworden. Au weia. Denn mit der Mutterschaft kamen die Tränen. Über alles. Über die Schrecklichkeit der Welt und über eine kleine Rötung am Bauchnabel des Babys. Über vollgekotze Bettwäsche und aufgrund der Sehnsucht nach erholsamem Nachtschlaf. Ich habe geweint, wenn ich daran gedacht habe, wie es Flüchtlingen in diesem Moment geht und noch mehr geweint bei der Vorstellung, dass junge Mütter wie ich unter den Flüchtlingen sind und genauso weinen wie ich, nur noch viel schlimmer. Ich habe geweint, weil ich so viel weine. Ich weine beim Gedanken daran, meine Mädchen eines Tages vielleicht im Brautkleid zum Traualtar schreiten zu sehen. Ich weine bei der Vorstellung, dass ich sterben könnte, während sie noch ganz klein sind. Ich weine, weil ich in meiner Chaos-Wohnung nicht atmen kann. Und vor dem Jogurtregal. Da stand ich gestern und habe die Tränen hochsteigen fühlen, ohne ersichtlichen Grund, einfach nur so, aus prinzipieller Erschöpfung. Dann habe ich mich zusammen gerissen, durch geatmet und weiter eingekauft. Später hab ich gemerkt – ich hab den Jogurt vergessen! Ich stand vor dem Regal und hab ihn vergessen. Eieiei. Also hab ich eine Packung Jogurt genommen und den sichersten Platz im Einkaufswagen gesucht – nicht auf den Trauben, links ist auch alles voll, am besten ich stell ihn rechts oben in die Ecke… Wo natürlich schon einer steht. Hatte ihn doch schon geholt. Dann bin ich zurück ans Jogurtregal und musste tatsächlich weinen – weil ich mir noch nicht mal für 3 Minuten merken kann, ob ich Jogurt gekauft habe oder nicht.

Aber – oh Gott sei Dank, es gibt ein „aber“! – hatte ich neulich die Erkenntnis. Wir saßen im Auto und sind durch Sonnenschein und schönste Landschaften gesaust. Irgendwas hat mich daran erinnert, dass wir in Spanien mal völlig unerwartet in ein Konzert geraten sind, in dem „The Black Pearl“ aus dem Film „Fluch der Karibik“ von einem Orchester gespielt wurde. Komponiert von Hans Zimmer*. Das hab ich schnell raus gesucht, laut gedreht und das ganze Auto hat nur so vibriert vor Herrlichkeit, Sonnenschein und dramatisch ergreifender Musik.

Da habe ich es begriffen. Das viele Fühlen ist auch ein Geschenk. Es macht mein Leben reich. Es macht mich fürchterlich empfänglich für Details, für Nuancen und für Schönheit, an der Andere vielleicht vorbei rauschen. Es macht mich fähig tief zu empfinden, stark begeistert zu sein und die Welt nicht nur in all ihrer Abscheulichkeit wahrzunehmen, sondern auch in all ihrem Glanz. [und da ist so viel Glanz, wenn man mal hinsieht!]

Seither habe ich meinen Frieden mit dem vielen Fühlen gefunden (oder bin noch dabei). Aber jetzt entschuldigt mich bitte, ich muss sehr emotionale Musik hören und alle Herrlichkeit der Welt in jeder Faser meines Körpers wahrnehmen.

Eine vielfühlige Bini

Edit im Jan. 2018: Das mit dem Weinen ist gemeinsam mit der generellen Erschöpfung weniger geworden, Gott sei Dank! Aber viel-fühlen ist wohl der neue Standard bei mir… ;)
*ich korrigiere: „the black pearl“ wurde von Klaus Badelt komponiert und zusammen mit Hans Zimmer produziert. Wer’s ganz genau wissen will, kann bei wikipedia nachlesen.