Dear Noah,

I look at you and I see beauty. You are calm and beautiful. Sometimes I can not take my eyes of you. That's how beautiful you are to me. In a family full of women you are our little prince around. I adore you. You had a rough start to life and I did not get to see you for almost two days after you were born. I was still on the operating table when the doctors rushed you into intensive care. I will never forget the moment when I woke up and was told that you were not there. My heart broke. I will also never forget how the nurse put me in a wheelchair the next day so I could go and see you for ten minutes. Even surrounded by what felt like a thousand machines my only thought was how beautiful you are to me. I was overwhelmed and cried while you laid in my arms. You were so much bigger than your sister, yet you seemed so weak. I will never forget how you joined me and Nele two days later and how worried I was cause you were weak. I could hardly move myself but I tried my best to be there for you, to hold you and show you that you are loved. With time you recovered well and I am so proud of you. You are a fighter. My little Noah, just like when I was pregnant with you, you are the calmer one. You love to be carried around and to cuddle. I love to sleep next to you, knowing that you feel safe and loved by my side. You make me feel needed and loved. I love you with all my heart. You are amazing.

Noah 3 weeks old.

Dear Nele,

when I look at you I see perfection. Many times it still feels unreal to me. I want to pinch myself because I can not believe you are my daughter, that I get to call you mine from now on. Most of the time you are the funniest thing around. Thank you for making me laugh so much. Even when I don't feel like getting up at 4am you put a smile on my face and make me forget how tired I am. Just like when I was still pregnant you move quickly, your eyes moving fast, observing the world around you. You are witty and full of life. People adore you cause you look like a little doll. My little doll. They love you for your cuteness. Days after you were born you started smiling. I love your smile. I will never forget the two days me and you had together after you were born and your brother was still in intensive care. Although I could hardly move I tried my best or rang the bell so I could hold you. I fed you and held you under my blanket. You grabbed my finger and held on tight as if you wanted to tell me that you are here with me. At night I could not stop looking at you, unable to believe you are mine now. My little Nele, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for making my days brighter, for making me smile and laugh every day. You are amazing.

Nele 3 weeks old.

The story of Noah and Nele

Drinking chinese tea in a state of being completely lost and heart broken my friend Laura asked me in April this year: "I mean what is the greatest thing you ever done in your life?" Getting my driving liscence, graduating from uni, picking myself up when the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with left me????!!!! - I looked at her and nodded but at the time I was too lost to know the answer. We were sitting in her living room which was cold as always but had become a little piece of home since I moved to the south east of China. I was about 5 weeks pregnant and completely lost. 7 months later, on November 26th when the story of Nele and Noah began and I knew what she meant. No book, no class, no one could have prepared me for what had happened until then. When two lines appeared on a stick, I entered the complete unknown and followed my heart. Flying back to Germany, feeling lost and strange in a place I had not lived in for years, slowely adjusting back to life, teaching, making new friends, passing out on my bed and getting rushed into hospital with early contractions at 30 weeks, being bed ridden for weeks, then spending a total of 8 weeks in hospital  until on nov 24th labour was induced, giving birth to two healthy children - the greatest things I have ever done.

Nov 24th, the day  I was about to explode labour was induced

Two days of heavy contractions, one natural birth (Nele was born at 12.01 pm on sat 26th) and one nightmare emergency c section (Noah was born at 12.25pm) later the wait was over, I was a mum and my body and mind COMPLETELY exhausted in love. The past 3 weeks have been exhausting, tiering, incredible and amazing. It took us another 2 weeks to recover until last week after being in hospital for 10 weeks total we got to go home. There are a million things to tell, a thousand moments worth writing about but with time being too short for now: 

Introducing

Nele Sophie

born Nov 26th, 12.01 pm

 44cm, 2370 gramm

 &

Noah James

born Nov 26th, 12.25pm

53 cm, 2820 gramm

Nele&Noah, 3 days old.

Noah & Nele, 3 weeks old

I will tell the rest and much more as soon as I can. Thank you everyone who has been a part of this amazing journey. I love you.

36 weeks

30 weeks was too early. 32 weeks -  not bad. 34 weeks - the (medical) goal. Now, at 36 weeks I know am allowed to exhale and let go. Yet, I can`t. The last few weeks have taught me lessons. Life lessons. About motherhood and birth and responsibility. It is like being a kid again and looking after the pet you longed to own for so long. Your days are filled with an incredible sense of affection and responsibility - only 10 times more intense than when looking after a rabbit. Although I have never seen their faces nor looked them in the eyes I have developed the biggest sense of responsibilty for their well being - pushing myself to go on and on - all for their own good - development and growth.

Tiny dots on ultrascounds change your life but remain something very abstract for too long quite a while. Then the abstract develops into something. Something turns into shapes. Hands, and feet and noses become visible. You find yourself listening to heartbeats, checking your belly in the mirror - every day - multiple times. Excitement, fear, love, anxiety and immense sickness determine your days.

When you find yourself bed ridden with an 24 hour IV next to you while women in the room or bed next to you go into labour at the right time  40 weeks of pregnancy and leave the hospital 3 days later with a perfectly healthy baby you learn that pregnancy is nothing to be taken for granted. New life, giving life, becomes a miracle, a gift - a blessing. Luckily you encounter far more women with little problems during pregnancy and labour but being here also opens your eyes to another world. You meet women having a c section in her 28th week of pregnancy, hours later looking at pictures of a tiny tiny something which won´t be carried home after 3 days but instead 3 months. You see husbands and boyfriends who hold hands and stand by ones side while other women need to build up courage and confidence day in and out, telling themselves that they in the end will be ok. Alone but ok. Everyone has a story which continues here on the labour ward between nurses and c sections and bad hospital lunches. Some women are extremely courageous, others crack earlier than they or anyone expected them to.

On wednesday doctors will discuss and determine what turn my own story will take. If a c section is still the best and safest way for me to give birth. Another ultrasound will show how much the twins have put on since our last date with Professor MW, if their nourishment is still good, if we can try and push this whole thing another week or if we have reached the end of our pregnancy story. 

We have done well so far and I am aware of it. No one thought we or I would make it this far. Yet we did. Call it whatever you like: Destiny, determination, focus or sheer luck. I call it love. A new love I have not encountered before. (Which has overwhelmed me by the way and makes me think that this is what was bound to happen. No matter how crazy the circumstances may seem.) The love of a mum. 

Dear tiny dancers,
I  may not have seen your faces before but I am already your fan. All I am asking you for is that our journey until now, all weeks, days, minutes, seconds being bed ridden with crazy roommates, Iv´s, contractions, bad hospital food, trashy TV and weekly ultrasounds have paid off somehow. It is our last chapter. I listen to Marlon sing: "I´ll be the greatest fan of your life."

36 weeks.

35 weeks

Every week I write how exhausting being pregnant has become, how much on the edge I feel most of the time, how I truly think we won´t go on for much longer. (Much longer meaning another week by the way.) I write about it cause in this very moment this is how I feel. So far so good. But THEN - a week later - I am back here, in front of the screen sitting on my hospital bed writing another post with a massive belly and two tiny dancers happily kicking inside me. Let me check...Yeah - definitely still pregnant. 

Although I feel like a massive pregnant liar I am not even exaggerating when I say I feel we can´t - won´t - go on much longer cause this is exactly how I feel the very second I write about it: pregnant, massive, tired, exhausted with pain in parts of my body you don´t even want to know about. In these moments I do truly feel like we have reached the end of it, that all skin has been stretched to the max by now and that I will fall over if I continue to carry these twins around - but no, no, no: another week and we are still here. Of course: The longer - the better but sometimes it is a fine line between being happy about it and wanting this to end.

Having said that I do have to admit that since I saw one of my hundred my old roommate having a c section in her 28th week of pregnancy and looking at pictures of a 1kg fetus plugged to a hell lot of machines I am telling myself that we need to hold out as long as we can. If it happens now, it can happen but lord do I want to avoid any time on the intensive care unit. Keep your fingers crossed, folks.

Due to little contractions and doing pretty well for weeks now there was talk about me leaving this place before I give birth but last thursday doctors decided against it after all. My cervix has shortened again and with that all talk about leave, home cooked food and other homey comforts went out of the window. Au revoir. Of course I was gutted for the rest of the day especially as my doctor also told me that giving birth without the big C involved also looks like a no, no due to the twins differencing in weight but what can you do?!

C section it is then. Oh well. At least the longer I am here the easier I find it to deal with all the madness surrounding me. C section?! Bring it on. Another annoying roomate includng her crazy family?! Nothing I have not seen before. (Do I have to mention that I have been and keep being EXTREMLY unlucky with my roommates?! From China doll to spoiled brat - I have seen them all. In the bed next to me. If this was an accurate picture of our society - Jeez I don´t even want to think about it. I mean, we already have to deal with men wearing white socks in sandals!) Heavy contractions which end up with a very quick transfer to the labour ward. Nah, nothing to worry about. We are faaarrrr from giving birth. Sometimes you just gotta laugh at things and take it easy. I mean what else can you do?!

So HELLO! It is another day in the medical madhouse hospital. Still pregnant, still fat, and between contractions, ultrascans, admiring Gary Barlow on the X factor and more trashy TV we are doing fine, making friends and enemies and holding it together.

35 weeks. Done.

34 weeks

 

On April, 16th I peed on a stick and seconds later my life was turned upside down. I had dreamt about it for an entire week, with two blue lines it became official: Pregnant.

On May, 20th I copied the above quote written by the fabulous James Frey into my diary. A month from the second I had peed on that stick everything had yet changed again. Not even the end of May and I already  knew that I could not stay where I was at the time, that I needed to go back to Germany  if I wanted to keep the twins. Sometimes things break beyond repair. Things broken into a million pieces certainly belong to that category.

So here we are. And although it has been a hell of a few months, weeks, days, minutes we have done pretty well because we have reached (tataaa) the big 34! 34 weeks is what I needed to reach in order for the twins to be safe in terms of fetal development. 34 weeks is the point when all treatments (with twins) stop. No more IV´s, no more medicine to stop early contractions. Whatever happens now  - I can actually let it happen. And although I paid a visit to the intensive care unit last saturday and found the thought of the babies to be surrounded by huge machines and monitors very depressing (sadly this is were the twins will most likely go for a few days if they are born before 36 weeks): Tiny dancers, whenever you are ready: I am.

(And until then I try and remain calm and postive between bad lunches, roomates who turn into a bigger emotional mess by the day, and an ever growing belly - slowely making its way low low low.) 

33 weeks

Almost 3 weeks ago it was not even sure if I would make it through the night without having to have a c section. I was literally on the edge of becoming a mum over night. Now we - all three of us -  have made it to the end of 33 weeks. So far so good. We´ve done well. And with regards to the future: 6 more days and we are really on the safe side.  34 weeks is superb for twins. So I am counting, people.

Of course being in hospital sucks. Immensely. Day in and out you are forced to put up with so much crap - from daily injections, moody nurses and shitty hospital food to roommates you just don´t click with to their boyfriends who make inappopriate comments about your boobs. (While their girlfriend is in the room. Of course.) It might sound fun at times but here - with an increasing lack of patience - it ain´t. Luckily there is the outside world (although I have only seen it once in the past 2 1/2 weeks) -  messages, chats and visits from friends and other lovely people. Now those are the things you really need and get you through another day with at least a smile on your face. Small acts of kindness with massive effects. Things you could not buy. Priceless. 

Last week multiple tests were done to find out more as to why I passed out on my bed 2 1/2 weeks ago. I spent two rather entertaining mornings in various departments of the hospital, found myself in a waiting hall being the only patient under the age of 65, had an ultrasound done on my heart,  had electrolytes glued to my head which looked like 30 years of dandruff when taken off, and ran around with a very fashionable necklace "a 24 hr ECG" for two days - always accompanied by my new polish friend "Walter" - a member of the hospital service which helps patients to and from other departments. Of course check ups are never fun  - especially your heart and brain can be quite worrying areas when it comes to test  and moreover test results- but I do have to admit that the whole thing was somewhat entertaining and definitely something more exciting than the usual hospital dullness you are surrounded by. All test results are ok so far, brain and heart seem in good shape, my university degree is officially justified.

Contractions have slowed down and so far everything "down there" is holding together which is the main thing. On the downside, everything else seems to be getting harder and harder by the minute now. I know I wrote about it before, but you never know you can face another level of exhaustion until you get there...And believe me: THIS is it: Real - to the max exhaustion and a total feeling of being uncomfortable. In the last few days, the last week maybe, the size of my belly has expanded to another level. Sleeping, walking (although I am still immensely glad I am allowed to do it now), breathing, looking at myself in the mirror with a massive ball in front of me - your daily tasks have become a major challenge. It is a fine line to be honest. On the one hand it shows that both babies have grown quite a bit which is what weI need and great of course. On the other hand it means my so far whale size got topped by a new size which I did not know was possible to reach before. Exhaustion is the word. Another twin pregnancy?! Although I am hoping to become a fan one day, I am pretty sure to say I am crossing that one off the list. For life. Bye, bye.

Now, putting tdepressing topics of increasing exhausion and a growing belly aside: As I type this post a chinese lady has just been assigned to the third bed in the room. After the inital surprise, giggle, shock it has been like a tragic stroll down Daqing or Luzhou Central. An accumulation of clichees which right now I can not take anymore. From your display of chinese pregnancy clothes (and those of you who are/have been in China know what I mean), fake Nikes, hot water for breakfast, the very alarming  very chinese sound of QQ to the sound of "Wei wei" when answering the phone. It is a total ting bu dong which combined with a lack of german language skills (oh yes, it has only been 5 years in this country!) is getting to me whether I like it or not. Having met many woman from various parts of the world I do have to say that China is not in my Top 5. Not even in my Top 10. Of course there are exceptions but somehow I feel this ain´t one of them. I know you get what I mean: Dear China, although being your guest for almost 2 years has been one of the best experiences of my life you have also driven me mad many times. So I need a break. Please just allow that. I am waiting. Xie xie.

Putting China Doll aside: Last but not least: thank you everyone for everything - from lovely messages to skype chats to visits. Even the tiniest thing means a lot here and cheers me up immensely. I love you all and know I am blessed to have you in my life.

33 weeks and you never know what will walk through the door next what kind of madness will hit you next.

Stay tuned for more. It can be entertaining at times.

33 weeks of fetus and me

32 weeks

32 weeks. Still in hospital. Still be ridden with dinners at the crazy early hour of 5 pm and daily cardiotocograms but we are safe. Safe for now and the last couple of days. Contractions monitored by the cardiotogram have slowed down to one per 20 minutes which is ok. Currently antibiotics are still running through an IV, entering my system several times a day, daily needles injected to drain blood are slowly making my arms look like I have suceessfully been on drugs for months but today I was told that from tomorrow the antibiotics will leave the room and with that all bigger treatments are stopped. Success. Nurses, doctors and midvives have become familiar faces - the red button next to my bed my very favourite personal assistant  to the outside world of coffee, water and more. 

Although you might feel I have an all inclusive deal here, it takes patience and endurance to lie down day after day. Days evolve around napping, eating, TV, books, laptop and forms of live entertainment which can be quite anything - from women who go into labour and turn up in super good shape with their newborn a couple of hours later to lovely friends who come and turn the hospital bathroom into a photo booth. 

Since my old roommates got transferred the room has turned into an interstation for pregnant women. They get off the train, arrive with small bags, just to hop onto the next one home a day or two later. So far only one girl has stayed here until now, the third bed in the room has already seen 3 patients come and go. They are women who get admitted with "small" pregnancy problems which are, after being monitored for a day or two, then sent home. Although I am happy for them and most of them have been pleasant I am now hoping for that bed to stay empty until I leave the hospital myself. Although it might be entertaining at times it gets exhausting having to adjust to a new roomie every second day. Especially the last girl turned out to be a whiner who continued to complain about being here and who did not seem to be able to do anything without her of course he had to be lovely husband. At times I was on the edge of screaming: "You complain about about being here for 2 days? Well, take this: I have been here almost two weeks already. Bed ridden. While YOU are still able to walk around, get your own coffee AND shower without having to sit on a chair like an old lady. PLUS you are two people and a husband. I am currently three. Without a husband. Do I win?! I don´t think so, my love." She pushed my patience to the edge but then she was told she could leave the hospital, I threw an unemotional: "Nice" in her direction and with that the whining was over. Thank God.

As it is with hospitals most of the time, and in my case, doctors monitor my process and can not really give me an answer as to whether I will be able to go home before I give birth. I am aware that in a day - two days- a weeks time everything could change again, leading to a new era of IV´s and tycolisis. Secretly I am also hoping to be able to stay here, knowing that my mothers nerves are still too fragile to cope with a very pregnant me coming home. I know that a big reason as to why I am better is also that I have stayed in bed only commuting to the bathroom. The bad side of being in bed all time: it slows your bloodstream down. On sunday I wanted to shower but the nurses could not find the chair I need to sit on. Deciding that I wanted my hair to look nice and therefore against the advice to shower a day later when the chair was most likely to be found I was completely knackered. The whole day. It was shocking. Quickly jumping into the shower?! No such thing here, people.

So here we are. Twins are doing fine, happily kicking against my abdominal wall. The next ultrasound is sheduled for tomorrow. Stay tuned and keep enjoying your personal mobility of being able to jump into the shower, going outside to grab a coffee or magazine. I am miles away from doing such things and ready for another round of pregnancy nap now. "Every day counts", as they like to say here. I am counting the days, weeks, ???, until a whale size body will hopefully shrink, swollen legs will turn back into normal size, faces, and feet and arms will no longer appear on screens but in front of me. Until then: Tata!

32 weeks of belly and me.

On bravery

You don´t need to look far, reach out far, try the extreme to experience bravery in any sort of way. You find it in the little things. It is the tiniest act which can be overlooked easily. 

It is the friend who looks you in the eye, listens and cares for you.Who comes and sits with you knowing that just being there will make a difference. For now. For the moment you are in. 

It is the family who supports you no matter what just happened. Who sticks together, cares for one another - no matter what road life just took. Prides are swallowed, quarrels secretly forgiven, bridges crossed. What you need right now is in their power. It lies in the unconditional love from the ones who have been there all along the way.

It is the boyfriend who comes to see you every day after work. No matter how tiering the day was, no matter what mood he is in. Who sits by your side, holds your hand and shows you that you are not alone in this.

Finally it is in woman who already tries to be the best mother she can be. Who goes through minutes, hours, days of worrying and caring eventhough she is months, weeks, days from giving birth. Although she has never seen your face her heart and mind are only focused on you, your health and happiness.

Bravery. It is is in the big and small. In the loud and quiet. In the give and take. It is in the staying and not leaving. In the listening and suppporting. In the love you give, in the time you spend, in the actions you choose to make. For yourself. For the person you love and care about.

Tiny acts of love and passion and courage and life. Easy to overlook but powerful beyond imagination.

Bravery.

31 weeks - plus 2 -

NORMALLY this post would have been written on a day - most likely a morning - while my mother would be at work. I would have had the house to myself, sitting in front of my laptop, coffee in one hand, a good youtube cover blasting in the background. I would have written about 31 weeks of pregnancy, my fears, doubts and dreams.

It is still morning. There is indeed coffee on the table in front of me. But NORMALLY has become a very vague term since last thursday when I felt sleepy and exhausted  - which is not very unusual if you are carrying around almost 40 20kg of fetus - , went to bed with a book and was found unconcious by my mother minutes - seconds - ??? - later. 

What had happpened? Up to this point I can only remember pieces, moments, seconds. It was my day off but I had already done my lesson plan for the next day, I had written a post on 30 weeks, I had looked up the opening hours for the local swimming pool as I wanted to waddle my way down there later. After lunch I felt tired, I laid down, I started to read, then felt increasingly tired. I still remember that I started to cough and felt like I could not stop until breathing got harder....The next thing I heard was my mother yelling and screaming in front of me. Funny enough my very first thought was that something had happened to HER and she needed help. When I woke up my pants were wet. Our hero neighbour - the only number my mother could remember at the time - was already there, ready to call the ambulance, ready to help. My mother told me that I was gone for minutes, that my lips had already turned blue. Then, all I remember is pain. Incredible pain. The statement to multiply your period pain by a hundred is true.  THAT`S what contractions are like and yes, they are a killer. The ambulance arrived and took me away- With the sirene blasting all over all  I could think of was: "I am not prepared. They are not ready. I am not ready. Their room is not even ready yet. It is too early. It is too early." Then again pain. 

Although being 15km away we reached the hospital in what seemed like a matter of seconds. Minutes later I was surrounded by doctors and nurses, midvives and a panicking mother. Somehow I remained calm. I know now that I was still in shock, not being able to grasp what had happened. My godmother arrived. Again, one of the only contacts my mother could remember. I was being monitored and examined. I had heavy contractions but my uterine orifice was ok. An IV of tocolysis was able to control my contractions and  hours later I was transferred from the labour ward onto the maternity ward. Around me there was talk about my blood group being available, people were puzzled as to why I had collapsed, more blood was drained, I got handed a document on c sections but at 9pm we knew I was ok and not ready to be a mum yet.

One crazy roommate and two very nice ones  - who were unfortunately transferred to a new room yesterday -  two nights of heavy contractions first unable to control due to a "lovely" range of side effects caused by the first tocolysis later I am now still here -  writing a post while waiting to be taken to see a professor who will do an ultrasound. With currently no contractions on the horizon I feel pretty happy although I have gotten to know things can change in a matter of hours in here.

Being bed ridden, days evolve around IV´s, ultrasounds, being wheel chaired to the labour ward in order to get my daily dosis of  cardiotocogram, doctors and midvives and the hottest topic of all: CONTRACTIONS!

The twins are currently 31 weeks and 2 days old. If I had to have a c section now they would most likely be ok and survive but in terms of fetal development it is still too early for them. I do believe the hospital here would be well prepared for the case but they would most likely still need support and the risk of handicaps due to being born prematurely is too high. "Every day counts", as they like to say here.

31 plus 2. Since I got admitted to hospital pregnancy has become vunerable and something unpredictable. You read about twin pregnancies being risky, while at the same time you are surrounded by stories where it all went ok. You stay in there, tiny dancers. Your mum is a fighter and is getting ready for you to arrive but do me the favour and stay in there a bit longer.

31 weeks of belly on the maternity ward

30 week milestone

30 is the new 36. At least for twin mums and at least according to my gynaecologist who I went to see this week. During my marathon of check ups which latest addition are cardiotocograms to measure the twins heartbeats, movements and possible contractions he told me that the "pleasant" side effects of pregnancy I am going through right now usually would not occur until 36 weeks. 36 weeks if you would only carry one child. Not two like me ~ the giant whale who finds less and less clothes in her closet that still fit and who managed to break a desk chair this week.

Oh boy, I am with you Dr. S. Never before in my life has my body given me such distinct signals telling me when and where to stop. Before, I was often able to push myself, somehow ignore pains and tiredness and sickness. Not this time. Not a chance. Not with the scale showing 75kg. I still try to do as much as I can but exhaustion usually gets the better of me these days. 

Another funny and on going thing this week are ultrasounds. Last week when I went for my first session of birth planning at the hospital I chose to give birth in the ultra sound they did showed a rather worrying discrepancy in terms of weight and height between the twins. The doctor was far too busy to did not comment on this any further but  too late: the worrying number had already entered my head and was not willing to leave. I mean it did not really shock me as over the past weeks this process had been noticed and monitored, I wrote about it here: http://twolineslater.blogspot.com/2011/08/24-weeks.html, but ever since I found about it I became very mum like and it had worried me. Since then it was like a new shot at gambling every time the doctor squeezed half a bottle of lube on my belly and turned on the ultrasound. Would we win this week? The big jackpot?! Had my little girl put on more weight? Was she on the same level as her brother now? Although the process got monitored regularly since I got back from China so far no jackpots answers were found. 

Now when I went to see my gynaecologist this week he first listened to my concerns, then showed me entirely different but very much more positive results on his ultrasound. Well now...Who to trust and believe in? I left the office feeling somewhat relieved and confused. Two days later, although the results only being valuations, I decided to trust in his results a bit more. I mean the man currently resides in my top 5 of favourite men in my life. The hospital doctor? Ehm, not so much yet. Sometimes it is just easier to choose sides, then stop worrying whether the other side would have been better. Unfortunately the gamble is not over yet. Tomorrow we are back in gamble land when the doctor specialized in this field will yet turn on her ultrasound to tell me what numbers she has to offer. 3 ultrasounds in a week?! Should I consider myself lucky?! I don´t even know how to feel about that now. Well let´s see what tomorrow brings. 30 weeks. High five to myself. 

30 weeks.

Me + you= we, broken hearts & waiting rooms

You hold my hand and with that simple gesture right now in this very moment me and you turn into we and I no longer need to feel alone. Me + you = we. All the way up to graduation I always disliked math but this one is easy to get and much more approachable than the usual shenanigens. 

When you look at me I know we are in this together. The words coming from your mouth tell me so and I believe in them and you. I believe cause I have always believed in people until life showed me that sometimes by doing so you are in the wrong ~ that sometimes you believe until dreams shatter and rooms fill with shock, anger and pieces of a broken heart. 

I listen to Jason saying that "the goal is just to stay happy and creative and flued to keep [...] out of that dark place and more fully in that humble space", and I close my eyes.  When I wake up it is all gone. You and me and we and the dream of not having to deal with this on my own.  I no longer hold that dream that I once created. Instead I left it half way unfinished and  boarded the cheapest plane to Germany. 

Reality.

We are changing rooms. My mother is stressed, finds it hard to cope with the change and situation. My Dad looks tired and so am I. Tired and lost. It is a big thing for them - something still unexpected and shocking - nothing anyone ever wanted in life. I get impatient. With myself and them and the situation we are in. With no one to turn me and you into a we I primarily only have myself. I tell myself that somehow we have to make it, that it is too late to give up now, that we survived three months and will survive more. 

A couple of days ago I found myself in the waiting room of a hospital. I was surrounded by stressed to the max, hormonal, emotional, scared women. Pregnant women. Just like me. Oh yes, we are all in the same boat. Except THEY have all seemed to have husbands or boyfriends by their side holding their bags, holding their hands, holding them together. I bit my lip. I tried not to look at fingers and rings and rings on fingers. I messaged my friend and sister, tried out ways to distract myself. I thought of more names cause I still have only decided on one so far. Names. Babynames. Names with meanings. Middle names. Names for my son and my daugther. I am going to be a parent in less than two months. I wondered how I ended up in this moment of my life. In a waiting room. Full of couples and magazines for couples and their babies. 

I hate myself for not being able to pull myself out of this cycle of depression, self pity and the memory of unfinished dreams. 

We rearrange furniture, we get rid of things, we stress out. We know life is more than black and white but sometimes we find ourselves in moments where we can not deal with the shades in between. Not in this moment. And so we run around in circles, we curse, we get sad and disappointed and fed up with each other until a few moments, minutes, hours later we put on a brave face and stick together. We know we love each other, need each other and right now depend on one another to deal with this mess. Me and you = we. Maybe right now not boyfriend wise but family wise. 

A humble place. Luzhou, China - one day after I found out I was pregnant.

29 weeks

29 feels like 42 weeks

With the beginning of the last trimester come the "joys" of the the last weeks of pregnancy: Big -  bigger - massive belly, swollen feet, legs and hands. I walk down a flight of stairs and breathe like an obese American.  During the last couple of days sitting, standing, walking and sleeping have become the challenges of my life. For the first time in my life my boobs are one of the smallest parts of my upper body. THIS has never happened. 2 months or more of this?! Ai ya ma ya as I like to say.

People stare, and whisper and gossip. Everyone knows best, everyone has an opinion and feels the right and need to tell you what to do. At times I can take it, at others I shake my head and walk away. Being a single mom has become a common way of life in our society but in the small minded community I live in it is still something worth gossiping about. Do I wanna move to a modern, kick ass city like Berlin where I can find more people in my situation? Hell yeah. Can I do it without the support I get here? Hell no...not for a while at least.

Life is funny. I feel more at ease in  a classroom of 70 chinese teenagers than wobbling my way down town a small sized german town. In China I was very aware of my game as a teacher. Here I am still nervous and unsure at times if I do a good job. When you are abroad you forget what it is like back home. You come back, you look around, you are shocked to see that people worry and worry and worry. Although surrounded by comfort and wealth they complain and greet you with worry in their eyes. Not everyone of course but on depressing days a great lot of them. Their town has become their hub of the world. I am very blessed to have had the chance to see that this life is bigger than this. 

Every day has been a learning process, a challenge, an experience since I got off the plane from Beijing. I listen to my inner voice, heart and body, I evaluate and select. Whatever feels good to me -  people, things and situations -  I surround myself with. Whatever causes the opposite is what I avoid. For me it is the best and only way to face the challenges in front of me, to stay focused and calm. 

I become increasingly organized which is mainly due to the fact that I can not handle more than one or two activities a day. Yes, you read right: A day. This is how immobile I have become. The rest of the time I read, and rest and lie down. Don´t get me wrong. Pregnancy is still a miracle and a blessing and I do know somewhere deep down a sign of destiny but hell - it can get exhausting at times. 

I had the house to myself for the past week. Very nice, very quiet, very healthy for mind and spirit to calm down and grow. My midwife stopped by the other day and was very pleased with the state of my belly. She believes both kids have grown quiet a bit (which is also my impression when I look at my massive self in the mirror) and seem to be lying side by side. My little girl on the left, her brother on the right. This woman is becoming a bigger blessing with each visit and I do appreciate our health system enormously to cover those benefits. I am a fan. For this week I have made an appointment with the hospital I will give birth in. They will take my data, talk to me about the different options I have when giving birth. I am still not 100% sure who to take with me to the hospital but that decision will be made soonish cause holy shit I don´t have that long anymore. 7 weeks, maybe 6? My favourite blogger Rebecca Woolf gave birth to twins when she was 34 weeks pregnant. That would give me 5 weeks. Ahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! At least our furniture has arrived so in a week or so we can start rearranging rooms and decorating. 

As I write this entry my little boy is very awake, pushing his foot into my stomach. I listen to a cover of Breakeven by the Script, once again admiring the magic music holds for me. 29 weeks feeling like 42. Bring it on, LAST trimester. Holy shit.

29 weeks. Belly and me.

28 weeks

In february 2010 I took the over night train to Beijng to attend my first chinese Spring Festival. In the hostel I stayed in I not only came across my favourite group of travellers  - who come in form of dutch guys - but also an older british man. He was working as a professor for some british university which regularly cooperated with one in China. This academic cooperation was the reason why he was in China. Over breakfast he told me that now, with his academic work done, he was travelling China for a bit. As many he found the country chaotic, loud, dirty and the people very different from westeners. I remember when he asked my friend Tina if peace was anywhere to be found in China. She quickly told him no. I believe this is mainly true although looking back I did also experience places and times where I felt surrounded by a certain calmness. These moments didn´t happen often, they were rare and didn`t last long. Also, part of the reason why I managed to experience them was due to the fact that I worked in cities which are considered small for China. Less people - less noise. Given China´s population density most of the time the extreme opposite is the case and you find yourself surrounded by pure chaos.

As many elderly people I happend to meet while working and travelling abroad I found this man very interesting. Over tea we continued to talk. He kept on talking about his impressions of China, how different, diverse and contradictory the country seemed to him. I could not agree more. Then he came out with something I have not forgotten until now. "Travelling is like a good rest."

Yesterday I got back from a weekend trip with my family. My dad who works away during the week and can only commute on weekends invited me, my mother and youngest sister on a weekend trip. He wanted to show us the region he works in.  It was not a long distance trip -  4 hours on a train - but it was a change of scenery - something new and unfamiliar. It was also family time which, given the circumstances I am in, is becoming more important by the week for me. It was nice to be together, spend time and get away for a weekend but - and I don´t want to sound ungrateful here - it is what it is with family: It is nice when you see each other and nice when you leave. You realize you are two generations - in our case also two different cultures - with different worlds, each one a bit different from the other-  and although it used to depress me previously I feel more and more that it is ok the way it is. You love each other, you argue, you need time together and time apart. Sometimes you need to shut your ears to the nonsense the other person is going on about. You do know you are also not flawless yourself so you keep quiet. Life is what you make of it.

Driving on the A3 on the way back yesterday, sitting in the back with Jay Chou blasting through my headphones, I realized that the past years had changed me. The experiences I was allowed to make, the roads I chose to take have paved my way - made me who I am right now in this very moment. It is funny cause when you´re abroad you are only half aware of the change and process of growth you undergo. Although you are aware you are constantly confronted and challenged by something new you only realize the full effect these things had on you when you get back: the moment you sit back, breathe, allowing yourself to look around, observe and compare. Just like I did after this weekend. Growth is good. It is healthy and necessary - an answer to the question of how you got to become who you are. I am immensely proud and glad I went abroad. I know I am blessed to have made the experiences I got to make, to meet the people I have met. On good days I know that because of my experiences I will now survive the challenges ahead of me as well. I will raise two children on my own, eventually I will move out and have my own place. I will be a full time teacher, a mum - maybe one day someones wife. 

28 weeks. We are getting bigger, climbing stairs and moving around all the time gets harder. I wonder how much longer we have. 7 weeks, 8 weeks  - more?! It is still hard to imagine that soon two lives will enter mine, depending on me like no one ever has. Travelling is like a good rest. For me it´s part of me and us.

Change of scenery. My sister, dad and me.

28 weeks

27 weeks

Dear tiny dancers,

when I first heard about you, when you entered my life, my thoughts and heart I would picture myself pregnant. Daily I would check my body in the mirror to see if I could already make out some tiny difference. Soon after, I started taking pictures of myself, all to capture the tiniest bump which at the time could have well resulted from too many trays of guan tan bao. When I took the bus to see my friends and your dad for the weekend every friday after work I would look out of the dirty bus window. With my mp3 on full blast and fully charged my thoughts and troubled mind would drift away until the second I would spot a pregnant girl or women. Immediately I was fully awake again, mesmerized by the visual signs of pregnancy.  Pregnant bodies are beautiful. They are miracles, proofs of life and health and love.

Ever since I found out I was pregnant I was eagerly waiting for my body to change, my belly to grow, your existence to show. With my body changing and growing with every week I have by far already reached that point now but lately I feel we are reaching a new level here. Me and you are turning into head turners over here. People stare, children stop, turn around with eyes wide open. There is no doubt about it: We are getting big.  Last weekend me and my friend Sarah went to the movies and after to a local bar to catch up on life and love and men and boys and you of course when the stares became pretty obvious to us. People blatantly stare and seem shocked at times.I started to wonder why. What do these people think in that very second when they spot me -  pregnant girl with her big belly and friend out on the town on a saturday night at 10 pm?! Do they think I am that big and are afraid I could give birth any minute, right in front of them? Do they think I should be at home instead of heading to a bar on a saturday evening at 10pm? Do they pity me cause I am walking around with my friend instead of a man holding my hand? Or are they just tragic and have nothing better to look at? In that case I almost feel proud. I mean if me and my massive belly are the best this town has to over?! Not bad, Alex, not bad. But then again pretty pretty tragic. People can never mind their own business. It is what it is.

These thoughts followed me all the way home and stayed with me even the day after but then I gave up. I had a wonderful evening. I am glad I am still able to wobble around, having a laugh with my friend Sarah, watching a fantastic german movie while eating lot of sweets.

Other than that I got to see you last week for another detailed ultrasound. You look good, you have both grown and although you, madame, are still a bit small I am happy when the doctor told me that you have grown in height and weight. It is what matters right now. We still don´t know why you are small but as long as you keep growing everyone is happy. I love you.

Boy &

baby girl <3

Next weekend we are going on a final weekend trip. Me and one of your aunts and your grandparents. My parents have invited me and my youngest sister to come along. Although currently on vacation she is busy with all her uni assignments and part time work so can do with a break. Me?! Well I am busy trying to find comfortable positions to sleep and sit, the engergy to work a few hours every week, to make new friends and be happy in this place soooooooo we can all do with a break. I hope we have a good time. When we get back it we will start moving rooms. The painters have left the building so we can, once the new furniture for my parents bedroom arrives, start moving rooms. I am excited and very happy to finally put my ideas into action. I do hope your room turns out as wonderful as the picture I carry with me in my head.

27 weeks of you and me. Every week you challenge me and take me on a new adventure - an entire different road in life.  Keep dancing down there. I love you both.

27 weeks

26 weeks

26 weeks

  

It´s monday. I post a new entry - "25 weeks". Over the course of the day I receive messages from people all over the planet congratulating me on my pregnancy or telling me that they enjoy my blog.  Although I started out  writing for myself, their feedback gives me massive encouragement and I know I am blessed to have them in my life. Later I get a call from a single mom I had met shortly after I got back to Germany. She is another example for someone who has made it through the storm and managed to kick ass at raising kids by herself. We chat for an hr. She tells me that she loves to listen to my stories, the adventures I have let myself in and that I will also make it through this one. I feel strong.

On tuesday my mom gets a call from a”friend” who had briefly heard about my coming back. She is shocked about the whole situation, somewhat feels overwhelmed and instead of keeping her concerns and doubts to herself she blasts them all out, telling my mom that I won´t make it - that this is a situation impossible to handle. This woman has not seen me for at least 10 years, has no idea of who I am or have become, yet feels the right to say so. Sadly this is not the first time it has happened. It is another step back. I know my mum can not handle the pressure. I see her being overwhelmed, then depressed and sad. I hide in my bed, cry, call my sister for advice.With the anger rising I picture myself shooting all of these people but I know better and instead listen to Jason sing: "Everything will be alright. Everything, in no time at all." The first episode of X - factor is cheering me up briefly but when I go to bed I still feel low.

On wednesday I teach double the amount of classes than usual. So far it works out well with me and the kids. Being a teacher over here is a lot harder than what I was used to in China. The bonus of being a foreigner does not count here. We are far too multicultural for this. Instead, you have to earn their respect and approval which can be tough. Kids here are a lot more independent. They have a lot more freedom in life, a lot more choices to make and first, you are nothing but another boring, annoying teacher to them. I try and make myself as approchable as possible. I look at everyone in an individual way, try to remember that everyone has a story to tell. A new student has signed up for my class, my bosses want me to teach as long as possible. I feel reassured and good about myself and the work that I do.

On thursday I meet my midwife for the first time. She is early. My hair is not done. I feel uncomfortable. She is nice, gives me much advice and from a person like that you take it on. She will come to see me every two weeks now. When examining my belly she already tells me that the twins will be born early. That she can already see that my physique won´t hold them until 40 weeks. She tells me to get everything ready till mid October, that I presumably won´t be able to move much after that point. I feel nervous but a bit more prepared at the same time.

On friday I teach my student for the last time. His reexamination will be on monday. As best as I could I have tried to prepare him over the past few weeks. I hope my work will pay off. If he fails the exam he has to repeat the entire year. I wish I could sit the exam for him. I feel nervous. When I come back I skype my friend from China. He is still in the city I used to work in. He seems happy. I sent him a package filled with german chocolate a few weeks ago. He tells me how happy it made him. I sometimes regret not having stayed another year in that city. Instead I moved to the south of China. I feel reminded of the time I had there. I miss my old life.

On saturday I ride my bike to the town hall. Every year a charity is hosting a book market. I wander around, find some books on travelling. They are the closest I can get to adventures right now so I buy all of them. I start reading immediately. I love books. In the evening I attend a local music festival. It is hosted by the town my sister lives in. My parents also have tickets. I met my friend Sarah and her boyfriend. We watch good and bad bands play. We have a good time. At 11pm my body tells me to stop and go home. I catch a ride with my parents home. Although it is a logical thing to do I hate the dependency. I think back to when I lived my own life in China. I feel dependent. I hate it.

On sunday I am still tired and exhausted. I wake up and can tell I am in a bad mood. Around noon I feel overwhelmed, unhappy and miserable. I cry, question my life, can´t see the sense behind it all. I think back to 2009 when I was happy with someone else, making plans to get married the summer after. I feel lonely. I hate living at home. I hate that right now and for the near future I have no other choice. I look at my belly. I feel hopeless.

It´s a new week now. 26 weeks since I got pregnant. 21 weeks ago two lines appeared, showed me the biggest change in my life. As I write this post my student is resitting his exam. My mum has just made my favourite indian breakfast for me. In a few hours I will teach another class. My student will tell me how his exam went. Tomorrow I am off to see my gynaecologist. I am 26 weeks pregnant. Life is weird. Mine feels unpredictable. I take every day as it comes - I try to stay calm and focused.

26 weeks

25 weeks

The 4^th of July 2011. Like any other day of the year I am sure the day held something for everyone. Maybe it was a day on which something incredibly positive or negative happened, maybe it was just another ordinary day with things going their usual way, like they do on a monday.

For me the 4^th of July 2011 started of as a pretty ordinary day which then turned into something magnificant by 5pm. Some days do this to you and you gotta love life for giving you such moments, reminding you that life is indeed unpredictable, incredible, amazing. It was at 5.30 pm that day that I heard two sentences which I had longed for, speculated over, thoughts carried with me like pieces of an unfinished puzzle:

“I looks like you are having a little boy, and I am pretty sure the other twin is a young lady”.

I was 18 weeks pregnant. Seconds ago I got told that I would have a son and a daugther. All of the sudden my growing belly had reached another step, turning the lives growing inside me into something more real, more concrete. I was on my own (since then I figured this is how a lot of things would go from now) and although I wished I had brought someone at the time it was ok to go through this on my own. I was overwhelmed, the surprise and shock immediately made me burst out into tears. A moment ago I had arrived at Düsseldorf airport, ricking my neck to spot my sister and dad in the arrival hall. Now I was told I was gonna have a daughter and a son. In a few months, this year, before Christmas. Holy Sh**. I was lying on the gynaecological examination chair, I was caught in the enormity of the moment, feeling overwhelmed, shocked, happy, sad.

Amongst all chaos surrounding me since I found out I was pregnant a boy and a girl was what I had wished for. In a family of only girls with all male relatives far far away in India I had wanted a boy. When I grew up I always wanted a brother, when I was in university I found myself surrounded increasingly by male friends, in China boys mostly were my favourite students. I found them approachable, easy to connect with and a lot less moody. (Sorry girls, but THAT is the truth about us.) I had wanted a boy from day one. 

Since the early days of my pregnancy I had already thought of names in my head – a boy and a girl one and until today and although I have played with different names in my head since then, they have remained my number one choice.

Since arriving in Germany the message of a girl and a boy was the perfect gift I got handed. I left the office feeling blessed. Although the doctor was not 100% sure about the girl at the time I walked across the road from her office and brought their first set of playsuits. One purple, one blue. The first set of many to follow.

A girl and a boy. My 5 year old cousin drew this picture for me after I told her what the twins would be.

Pregnancy is an amazing stage.

You find yourself amazed by what is happening inside you, how your body is changing with every week. You look at yourself, feeling kicks inside you, not being able to grasp that you will start your own family this very year already.

Pregnancy is a funny stage.

The body you admire the one second, really gets to you the next, making your life harder until you look in the mirror feeling like a whale wanting to ask someone to take off the extra weight just for a day so you can  dance around the room and feel light again.

Pregnancy is a worrisome stage.

You find yourself surrounded by pregnancy books, people on the other end of the phone or right in front of you – each and everyone with and the best opinion and piece of advice. You kick ass at entertaining 70 chinese teenagers for 45 minutes but raising two children to be the most amazing human beings you have seen has never been on your agenda. You wanna run. Immediately.

Pregnancy is a mad time.

You are no longer you, the single girl who started singing when she was six years old, loves to be creative, went half way round the globe by herself with the bible a Lonely Planet in her hand. You are defined by your pregnancy. “Can I help you with that?”, “Don’t do that…”, “Better not do this…”. You secretly want to tell them off but agree cause you have grown to understand that it will work best for you if you take on the advice, letting go of "I am superwoman and can do it all by myself” for now.

Pregnancy is everything.

It is a time for everything from happiness to sadness to panic to coming close to a feeling for destiny. You cry, you laugh, you smile, you loose patience, you gain patience, you feel lost, you pick yourself up and  feel stronger than ten minutes, the day, the week before.

Pregnancy is life.

It is a time to grow and learn and become something you have never thought you would be this year.

25 weeks.