Filed under: Sweden
October 9th marked my five-year anniversary in Sweden. October 25th marked the marking of my fifth anniversary.
The actual day went by in a blur of working, celebrating a friend’s birthday and flying to Munich. I forgot to even mention the significance of the date to Erik. First our one-year anniversary went largely uncelebrated, then my five-year. Luckily, unlike the make-up celebration for our wedding anniversary, my delayed Sweden anniversary festivities weren’t marred by a car accident. Last Saturday was free of frustrations and pretty perfect all around.
I came to Sweden five years ago to be with Erik but I celebrated in Denmark with my girlfriends. Seemingly wrong, but really very right. It’s those three girls, more than Erik, that truly understand the significance of these five years. Because it was their anniversary as well.
We all arrived in Sweden between June and October of 2003. We came from France, Germany, Serbia, and America to be with Swedish men. Two of us are now married, two have children, two are pregnant, and one is living with a different man than the one she came here for. Three of us have bought apartments, two of us work together, and all four of us speak Swedish.
On Saturday we headed to Copenhagen (staying in Malmö just didn’t seem festive enough) for a girl’s day out. The day started at 9am with muffins and coffee on the train. We disembarked in Nørreport and shopped and strolled our way through Nørrebro. It was there that a pair of boots made their way into my possession before I had a chance to really ponder the Danish crown. A long walk to Østerbro was rewarded by a brunch plate in a sweet café. Then on to Strøget for more shopping (finally, I have been to COS) and more walking. And at 6pm, we joined the throng of people for the train back to Malmö, satiated by food, conversation, and money well (if not wisely) spent.
At lunch, one of us had the idea that we should go around and say something about these five years. What’s been good, what hasn’t, what have we accomplished and what do we have left to tackle? It was one of the most moving conversations I’ve had in ages, and I couldn’t have had it with anyone else.
I said this (or something similarly sappy): What an unexpected adventure these five years have been. And now, when I’m past the hard adjustments, the feeling that survives is thankfulness. I am thankful for this Swedish twist of fate. For allowing me a husband who I love more dearly every day. For giving me a new language. For forcing me to discover a new career when the track I had always been on didn’t translate (literally). I’m grateful for discovering new sides of myself that would have stayed hidden had I stayed where I was.
I ended my little reflection with the sad part. The missing part. How the more settled my life is here, the more it breaks my heart that I’m not there – or that all those people I love are not here with me. To come over to my new apartment, to hang out on a Friday night, to see my stomach in person, and mostly, to be with my baby.
Emotions ran high at lunch, and we lingered over pricey coffee. One of the four of us started crying, which prompted me to say – and forgive me for getting a little lame-o gratitude journaly here – that if after five years we can sit in a café and cry with three good friends, we’ve had more success than many.
Filed under: preggers
I have been woefully slack about taking and posting pictures of my expanding belly. But today, today!, I am making up for it. Because really, I am fully pregnant now and I’ve got to document it at least a little bit. So, comparison shots at 12 weeks + 4 days, 16 weeks, and 24 weeks + 3 days (that’s today).
Before I go any further in this pregnancy, I have to issue an apology to Katie Holmes. I’ll admit that I was one of the people that watched her bump on Perez Hilton and questioned if she was really pregnant with Tom’s baby. Sometimes she looked big, sometimes small. I’m sorry I doubted you, Katie; now I understand. Bumps are moody. Monstrously round one day, small and pointy the next. Last night after dinner my bump was feeling (and looking) particularly giant:
But don’t fear. Baby isn’t quite ready for her debut yet and today my belly is back to its plump 6-month self. And just in case you think I only wear pink velour pants, here is me dressed for today:
Filed under: Uncategorized
Me, Erik, an unknown city, and no particular agenda: one of my very favorite ways to spend a day. Erik and I travel well together. He lets me pop my head into every bakery, candy shop, and café that catches my eye as we stroll. He agrees to schlep another block until we find an even better place to rest our feet (preferably one with apple pastries), he doesn’t get annoyed with me when I repeatedly read the map upside down, and he agrees to explore the “outdoor sports emporium” on his own while I explore the nearby department store (complete with food hall!).
This past weekend was probably our last city exploration for a while. I don’t anticipate wanting a last-minute Alpine adventure at 8-months pregnant and I don’t think the idea of traveling around Barcelona with a newborn this spring sounds all that appealing. So our weekend in Munich will have to tide us over for a while.
We went to Munich for a wedding and the trip couldn’t have come at a worse time – or better time. Knowing what our fall would be like, we hemmed and hawed and stressed when we got the invitation until we just stopped thinking and bought the tickets. That decision was looking pretty irresponsible last week when we calculated that our renovations will cost something like double as much as we expected. Great! Now’s the time to splurge on a getaway! But it was too late to reconsider – the response was sent and the reservations were made. Thank God for that.
Going away in the midst of renovation-stress was exactly what we needed, despite the cost. And as it turned out, for the first time in a few weeks, the money gods were on our side. We arrived at our gate on Thursday afternoon to hear that our flight was overbooked. They needed two volunteers to take the next flight only one hour later. In exchange they would give each person €125 in cash. Yes please! We ran up to the desk, grabbed the deal and for the first time all week felt carefree. €250 buys a lot of beer and pretzels and since we had already arranged to stay with a friend of the bride, our only real expense was the flight.
We arrived in Munich late Thursday night, had the wedding Saturday and left at 9am on Sunday. That left us with one day to explore the city. We were out of the apartment by 8am on Friday, armed with our Danish guidebook (an airport purchase) and our Lufthansa bucks. We started with coffee and croissants in a sweet little bakery where Erik’s high school German caused a misunderstanding. He tried to say his German was bad, the proprietor understood that his wife was ill. With her flaky croissant and jam in me, how could I be?
We returned to our lodgings at 11pm, with aching legs and feet, and bellies stuffed full of carbohydrates. We lay on the sofa bed, high from impressions of Munich and happy to have had a restorative day together. A day in which we didn’t discuss electricity and carpenters and money. One that was pure enjoyment – of each other and our surroundings.
Just as we relaxed, the baby who had been lulled by the constant movement all day long gave her biggest, hardest kick yet – so big we could actually see it. It was as if she reminding us that days like the one we had are numbered – for a little while at least and making sure we didn’t forget about her in our Munich haze.
Baby, all the beer and spaetzel in Bavaria couldn’t muddle my brain enough to make me forget about you. And I’m pretty sure that all the city-breaks we’ve had combined won’t compare to the exploration and adventure that one weekend with you will bring. Also, I’m sorry for my German carb-crazy, fairly un-nutritious weekend. It was tasty, though, wasn’t it?
Filed under: Uncategorized
Oh would that I had posted a week ago! There was so much to say back then. About our one-year wedding anniversary being celebrated amidst moving boxes, Poirot on the TV, and a sip of champagne. About how when all your vases are packed and your husband gives you anniversary flowers, an empty Heinz can of beans can make a surprisingly attractive stand-in. About how our delayed celebration the following weekend was ruined by a car accident. About crying over the bathroom sink when I realized it was the very last time I would clean the sink in that apartment (it was 1am, I was exhausted). About closing the door to said apartment at 2am, tears streaming down my face as we – literally – drove away to a new phase in life. About how as much as I am overjoyed at being pregnant and moving to a big, bright new apartment, I’ll miss the Amy-and-Erik-build-a-life feeling of our last place. I would have bored the internet with details of monster renovations, bad electrical wiring, and some plumbing thing I don’t quite understand. And I would have written about having to live at our in-laws for a few weeks (which is quite nice, actually).
All that important stuff about emotions and anniversaries, car accidents and moving prevented me from actually having the time to write, and now it all seems too difficult to recap and a little outdated. So let’s move on from all the heaviness and focus on the one fun thing I meant to discuss last week: maternity clothes.
Last Sunday, in honor of being over the half-way pregnancy point, I celebrated my 21 weeks with a small shopping trip to H&M. Honestly, I would have preferred to splurge at Top Shop or spend the day in Malmö comparing the maternity fashions at different stores. But it was Sunday, most stores were closed, I only had an hour and I couldn’t wait a day longer. My regular jeans had become indecent, painful and potential harmful to my baby (what if she was born with a jeans button imprinted on her forehead?). The trip to H&M was surprisingly fruitful and easy. I’m not sure if it was because my standards were a bit lower, but shopping for “mamma-jeans” was a lot simpler than buying normal jeans. I tried a pair, they fit, they looked vaguely cute, so I bought them, as well as a pair of brown corduroys. And let me tell you, maternity pants are amazing. Everyone should buy them. Their soft, stretchy top would be just the thing to wear out to a big dinner or change into on Thanksgiving. Why don’t they make all pants so cozy and kind on the stomach?
Sunday’s purchase set off a week of acquiring more clothes that actually fit. I now have two pairs of pants, two new dresses, and four or five tops that show off my bump. (Go bump!)
On Thursday I wore one of my new dresses to work. And after weeks of being too stressed to care about clothes, feeling cute was exactly what I needed. The whole world, including our move and our dumbass electricity seemed a little less tiring from the perspective of black corduroy and bright red tights. A few more additions to my pregnant fall wardrobe and maybe I won’t even mind another’s week’s delay in moving into our new home… Three cheers for retail therapy.
