About ten years ago, I went through a difficult period in which I couldn’t see a future; I couldn’t dream. I tried to imagine one, five, ten years into the distance and saw blackness, absence, nothing. It wasn’t that bad things were happening, but that I couldn’t see anything at all.
I tried the same with friends of mine and could see a future for each one of them. I concluded that nothing was wrong with my imagination, but that something was wrong with my own thoughts about myself.
This is why I will always tell people that therapy changed my life. Go see a therapist – they are good people.
One of the things on my mind back then was one day, eventually, starting a family. Ten years has gone by faster than I ever would have thought and when I consider myself and two friends around me at that time, I can only throw back my head and laugh.
At the time, all of us were unsuccessfully dating. Now, we are engaged, partnered, married. None of us were ready for the children we all hoped would be somewhere in the future. Now, we are all preparing for babies who will arrive this year.
Ten years ago, I saw these futures for my friends though I couldn’t see one for myself. Today, I am holding hands with these friends across time and space; the future couldn’t look more different.
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.
People keep telling us to enjoy this time, this holiday season, the two weeks we have off with no plans. “It’ll be different next year,” they say. “And for the next many years,” they say.
We know it will. We’re ready for different, and we’re looking forward to it.
But I am also very focused on what is happening right now because I know this is the end of a time in which our worries are pretty simple and pretty solvable. That’s not to say that there aren’t stressful times, upsetting times, uncertain times – of course there are, because that’s what living means. But now is certainly a time of fewer variables; our family consists of one fewer human now than there will be in a matter of weeks!
So I’m enjoying sleeping in, spending half a day on a puzzle, going for a spontaneous walk in the sunshine, waking without a plan and letting the day proceed as it will. There are things to do, of course, and things I want to get done (nearly all of which relate to baby planning), but rather than rushing into all of them at once, which I am prone to do, I’m trying to do things one at a time. I’m just trying to slow down.
Because this is the time where I can. I can indulge in not having to think too hard or do too much, and I am trying to enjoy this feeling because I know everything is going to change. And as I can be pretty tightly wound and all too efficient for my own good, slowing down is somewhat of a challenge for me.
I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions because I firmly believe that the time to change something is the time when one recognizes there’s a change to be made. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve made a very considerable effort to slow down because I know that’s something that doesn’t come easily to me. I would like my child to be a little more relaxed than I am, and I thought it would be helpful for us both to just take a step back. Approach the to-do list with the confident calm of someone who knows it will get done. Do one thing and then the next thing rather than trying to fit all the things into one moment.
As I’m writing this, the Chanukah candles are burning. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit back at watch.
Weimar, Germany – February 2024
Photos, travels, musings, and ideas on education by someone trying to make the world a better and more peaceful place
By Rebecca Michelle 