Tag Archives: Change

Getting Ready

I recently started my time in Mutterschutz, the period from six weeks before my due date until eight weeks after the baby’s birth in which I am not supposed to work but receive my full salary, paid partially by health insurance. This time of “mother protection” is there to help avoid physical or mental strain, which increases risks for both mama and baby, and to allow a heavily pregnant woman to step back from certain aspects of daily life in order to prepare for what is to come. As I’ve been writing my to-do list, I’ve kept this time firmly in mind, which is what had me starting on task one, wash all baby clothes, first thing Saturday morning.

After a day of hanging in the living room to dry, everything was ready to be folded. We’ve received some baby clothes as gifts, but mostly been given gently used items from friends, meaning we are entirely lacking an overview of what we have. My partner and I looked at each other helplessly.

“How do you fold something so small?”
“I dunno.”
“Like this?”
“But now we can’t see what it is. Like this?”
“What is it?”
“This one has feet.”
“Oh okay. This one has arms but no feet.”
“Oh. Okay so start a new pile.”
“Which pile does this go in?”
“I dunno. Is that a onesie or does that go over a onesie?”
“How should I know? How do we even put this on? It has no snaps.”
“Do we need a pile for things without snaps?”
“These two things are different but neither has snaps.”
“I am not dressing her in anything without snaps.”
“Okay, put it here.”
“What’s the name of this pile?”
“Should we write signs?”
“Where does this go?”
“I’m serious about the signs.”
“This is so tiny.”
“There’s only one thing in this pile.”
“So combine it with this pile.”
“Oh wait, no, these are different. Fold the arms out so we can see that there are arms. Long arms.”
“We got this.”
“This is so tiny.”
“The next round is socks. How do we even dry socks?”

Savour everything now, they say. This time will never come again, they say.

To that end, we bought a new board game and borrowed one from friends. We started going out for dinner once a week and lie in bed weekend mornings until hunger drives us into the day. Alongside the ease with which we are living right now, there’s extensive paperwork to complete (welcome to Germany), a hospital bag to pack, bottles and pump to sanitize, a photo album to start. There’s a life to get ready for.

But there’s also the relationship between the two people who decided to be a family before there was a third member involved. Although no one has said so, maybe one idea behind Mutterschutz is to put relationships, rather than work, at the forefront in order to protect them at a time of great change. I would imagine that the stronger and more centered we are together, the easier the transition into a new phase of our lives.

Time will tell about that. In the meantime, the socks are drying on the radiator.

Marrakech, Morocco – October 2025

New Body Yoga

No bending over, no engaging the abs, no twisting.

No inversions, no backbends, no planks.

Welcome to prenatal yoga, where it’s all about space, lengthening, and breath.

In some twist of fate, the yoga teacher who comes to my school once a week is also certified in prenatal yoga, and she has been kind enough to modify our usual class for me. As this is a teacher who knows me and how my body is used to moving, I feel very safe in her hands.

I love yoga for many reasons and have been practicing regularly for over fifteen years. I love the way it has helped me get to know my body, what it has shown my body to do, and the way my breathing has changed as a result. That’s what yoga is, really; breathing, and letting the breath move the body.

As I’ve learned more about yoga as a practice and as I’ve become stronger and more experienced, I’ve recognized different purposes in yoga, and they have applied to different points of my life. I’ve done yoga for the purpose of getting stronger, for learning to breathe, for slowing down, for healing, and for learning to work with discomfort.

And now, I’m doing yoga to encourage the changes taking place in my body, to help it lengthen, open, and create space. As my belly grows, the pace of yoga postures slows down, the breathing practice deepens, and concentration shifts from breath to body and back to breath. Working on the breath is no longer a means to find the deepest core of myself, but also to welcome the being that is becoming.

“I know it’s boring,” my teacher said at the beginning. “But you’ll get bigger and you’ll see.”

Used to feeling my body move and stretch and knowing how to use the breath as a way to move the body, it was boring. And then I stopped focusing on what I couldn’t do any more and started focusing on the purpose: lengthen, open, create space, breathe.

Yoga was no longer boring.

Used to coming home feeling stretched and strong, a rubber band played with, twisted, pulled, I began coming home feeling relaxed, calmer, my hips and lower back able to move more fluidly. I’ve been tired at the end of the day in a way that I’ve never been tired before, and it was yoga that reminded me why.

Yoga is like meditation in the sense that we practice. It is a continuous doing without a done, without a stopping point, without a natural break. Yoga is a flow. It is about welcoming what is, where it is, how it is. And now, it is about welcoming what will be.

Lengthen. Open. Create space.

Breathe.

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia – February 2016

Into Boxes Again

In some ways, it was the easiest move I’ve ever done.

Clothes packed into duffel bags and suitcases, books and crockery into boxes, decorative items gently wrapped before being placed into other boxes, frames taken off walls and stacked. Furniture loaded into the car or the van, padded with pillow and blankets. Three or four trips, one to a village a short ways away, and we were done.

And with every trip, things everywhere.

Furniture carefully moved into pre-measured locations, no space to spare. Empty a bag, fill a set of drawers, unzip the next bag, reorganize the drawers.

We spent hours combining two kitchens into one and formed piles: Things we use and love, thing to store for later use, things to donate, things that simply needed to go. Glad we had built a new set of shelves.

Mere days later, the bed stood slightly higher and more items found their place. Shortly thereafter, a new cabinet in the bathroom took care of a general sense of organized chaos.

A beloved photo printed on canvas. More pictures arranged and hung. Every spare surface filled with plants.

Forms filled out, phone calls made, appointments set, items slowly crossed off the bureaucratic to-do list. Agreements set with the landlord, a day spent painting the old apartment, items gradually sold to colleagues, to strangers, other items donated. I’ve always found it pretty easy to part with things.

A new, longer route to work. Depending on the weather, through the city or through the park. Based on the snow conditions, by bike or by bus. Alarm reset to save time for last-minute adjustments.

And then finding rhythm. Alarms ringing at different times, shower occupied morning and evening, discussion of which temperature to wash clothes. Who starts coffee and who makes the bed and are you coming straight home after work?


This move reminded me of my first move: Excitement, joy, family around to help, pizza when everything was done. I have a lot of experience with moves and it makes a difference, having people there to direct, to carry, to organize. It makes a difference, not doing it alone. But this move was yet different in its celebration, in the name labels that went up on the doorbell and mailbox.

This move was not just a change of location, be it part of town or city or country, but a change of circumstance, a change that I’d tried once before in a very different place and very different time. Aware of this, I had a moment shortly before where the world swayed under my feet and I needed time for it to steady itself; I needed time to steady myself.

In many ways, this was the easiest move I’d ever done. In another sense, the ease belies the work it took to get here.

And that’s how it is with transitions, I think. You don’t realize you’re there until you are. And then you step over the threshold.

Welcome home.

Weimar, Germany – January 2024