Japan

Japan

 

 

I could not wait to leave NZ. It felt as if NZ was part of a bad dream that we were gonna wake up from the moment our plane takes of , I was counting minutes after Mr.B’s surgery as he could not fly for one week. I was nervous, unconcentrated, desperate, confused, edgy, irritated and sorry. I was sorry for Leo with whom I could not be as patient as I wished to be and to whom I had almost none energy to offer for careless running around and playing, I was sorry for Mr.B who has been working his ass of to pay for this dream trip and now everything was just so fucked up, we had to pay extra money to rebook flights, pay for extra nights in Auckland, pay fees for changing bookings in Japan as our trip there was shortened and all that in a burial mood. Where was all the happiness, showers of joy and laughter that we have pictured. I could see how depressed he was getting day by day and how angry he was at himself for not being able to get his bad mood under control which in the end resulted in our fights. We were fighting like rabid dogs, our nerves were irritated to such point that every little change of the mood of one of us caused an unmanageable explosion of anger of the other and although we have tried to discuss it in the moments of delicate peace, comprehending how important it is that we stand side by side now and support each other it did not help any and even these discussion ended /in a better scenario/ in a bitter cold silence. I was sorry for the little baby that grew inside of me, I was sorry that I could not develop all the feelings it deserved form its mother, I was sorry for myself to have to go through this and not be able to fully enjoy the pregnancy which sure is the last one in my life.
I was sorry and pissed and angry and sad and all that was nothing compared to the constant vomitting and pain of my stomach. We made an appointment in the Mother’s clinic in Tokyo to do some additional tests after our arrival and I could not wait. I could not wait for someone to tell me that it was all just a misunderstanding,but at the same time I feared that moment as hell, because it might have just as well all continued in a wrong direction and I was not sure how we gonna cope with that.
I had an online conversation about our issue from Auckland and was advised to undergo CVS (Chorionic Villus Sampling) due to the high NT measurement that our baby had. Which I decided to decline and go for one more ultrasound scan and some blood tests at first although the lady in NZ told me that blood tests make no sense because the results are gonna be bad for sure.
After we arrived to Japan and changed all our travel plans according to the scheduled procedures in the clinic, we had two more days in a strange agony to wait for my appointment. Two days that passed by in such a stress that they are now covered in heavy fog in my memory.

Then the day came. The ultrasound screening I had was I swear the longest and most terrifying 15 minutes as far as I can remember. Lady who was doing the scan could not speak any english. Tears were running down my face during the whole time, I kept asking OK? OK? and she just strangely nodded her head and made a sound which I could not translate as positive or negative reaction. Well I for sure learned the hard way what the fuck it means to be lost in translation.
I had to wait for the doctor to come and have a look at scan results and I was uncontrollably shaking and crying. That was apparently way to emotional for the poor lady and it made her feel uncomfortable, she did not know how to act in such situation and I could see that she just wished to be teleported to a different room, to a normal japanesse patient who could keep it together better than me. And for the first time I did not give a shit. All my life I constantly worried about how my behaviour influences other people’s feelings, if I don ’t make them feel bad by doing something wrong, and this time I could see this poor lady suffer as if she was locked in the pressure cabin and I did not give a shit that I am actually the one who is causing her such problem. I did not care because I was not in charge of my body reaction to that stress, and I was really pissed that she works in an international clinic and can’t say a fucking word in english to make me feel better. After the battle that both of us had to fight for minutes that felt like hours doctor came in, he looked veeeery carefully on the results, did some more scans by himself again while talking japanesse with the poor lady and looking at me with a look that did not say anything and I was ready to kill. The short movie that scrolled in front of my eyes of how I simply cold blooded kill them all helped me remain within the frame of sanity and calm down until I was finally told that the NT measurement is not as high as they measured in NZ, it was at the highest from what is considered to be the normal range. 3,4 mm he said. It is not good but not bad. Well whatever that means. So should I be happy now? Or not yet? Is this satisfying? What the hell means the measurement that was done in NZ than? What should I think of it? What is next? I had so many questions but the conversation possibilities were very limited and I had to do with the fact that it is not tragic and now we have to wait for blood results. Arigato, arigato, bow to the floor and bye bye.
I thought I should feel relieved, and maybe I even did slightly, but definitely not as much as I hoped I would.
Mr.B is a positive thinker, so he took on the HELL IT IS ALL GOOD option, but I am the one who is always scared and I could not share his excitement. There was still a lot ahead of us, at least two different blood test, maybe amniocentesis, very specific baby’s heart scans at different stages of pregnancy and who knows what else. I looked in front of me and all I could see was months and months of unsureness, one test after another, because for each type of the test the baby has to have certain gestational age and time spent waiting for results between the tests.I knew that I will be revealed from this torture only after the baby is born. That was my reality now.
We were in Japan exactly 3 years ago. I did a pregnancy test in Beppu on 14.2.2013 and the test was positive, we were in Japan not just the two of, it was three of us already. Leo was on his way. And it was as abstract as it could be, for me, for us at that time.
Three years later, 2016, we were in Japan again. Those three years in between I could not wait, I could not wait to be back. Japan was my absolutely strongest travel experience. It was so different from anything I knew before. It was overwhelming, intriguing, shocking, inspiring, visually unique and so strong. For 3 years I had constant flash backs from Japan, the smell of air, the light, touch of cold on my skin or just a short second of undefinable taste of the moment and I was back there. I wished to be back there, because in Japan I felt everything so intensely. My senses were facing a challenge all at the same time and it felt so good.
So here we are again, three of us in Japan, Leo is walking talking person who is fun to be around, who is tough to be around, who is fun to discover the world with and who is exhausting to travel with at the same time, but who is an essential part of our lives. The little guy who was just a two blue lines on a piece of plastic 3 years ago is now so profoundly part of me that I cant recall the feeling of life before him. And this time around we are four.
Another life that I have brought inside of my body, another life that is two blue lines on a piece of plastic and loads of pages of ultrasound scans. Life that is a mystery for us, not because we don’t know how it feels to parent a tiny human but because this human is a surprise on a completely new level.
I try to get hold of things again as we walk in temporary calmness around a lake in Kawaguchiko. I am pushing myself into living the moment, into letting fear go and enjoying what we have and what we are given. Tests are OK, the risk of chromosomal abnormalities is quite low, but now low enough to be completely sure of course. The curse of ambiguousness is now the new reality. Another test is ahead of us in Poland, but for now this should be enough. Enough to hold Little L tight in my arms before he runs wild to imaginary fishing duties, enough to let Mr.B hold me in his arms and let myself feel the love I have for him, hidden somewhere deep under the load of sour leftovers from our recent fights, and enough for me to finally touch my belly that is not anymore only mine and let myself feel happiness for the growing missing puzzle of our family that is on its way.Healthy or not, we shall see.


Nie mogłam się doczekać, kiedy w końcu wyjedziemy z Nowej Zelandii. Czułam, jakby wszystko, co się tam wydarzyło, było jednym wielkim koszmarem, z którego wybudzę się jak tylko wsiądziemy do samolotu. Liczyłam minuty od operacji Pana B, który nie mógł podróżować przez tydzień. Byłam zdenerwowana, rozkojarzona, zdesperowana, zdezorientowana, drażliwa, poirytowana i rozżalona. Było mi żal Leo, dla którego nie miałam wystarczająco dużo cierpliwości i siły, żeby się bawić i biegać beztrosko. Było mi żal Pana B., który harował, jak wół, żeby zapłacić za tę podróż marzeń, a teraz wszystko tak się popieprzyło, że musieliśmy dopłacić za przebukowanie lotu, zapłacić za nocleg w Auckland, pokryć dodatkowe opłaty za zmianę rezerwacji w Japonii, gdzie nasz pobyt będzie krótszy, niż planowaliśmy, a wszystko to w żałobnym nastroju. Gdzie się podziało całe szczęście, chwile radości i śmiechu, które sobie wyobrażaliśmy. Widziałam jak z dnia na dzień robił się coraz bardziej przygnębiony i jak bardzo był zły na siebie, że nie mógł opanować swoich uczuć, co z kolei, zawsze kończyło się na kłótni. Walczyliśmy ze sobą jak wściekłe psy, byliśmy tak poirytowani, że każda najmniejsza huśtawka nastroju u jednego z nas powodowała wybuch złości u drugiego i, mimo iż w kruchych momentach spokoju próbowaliśmy o tym rozmawiać, a każde z nas rozumiało jak ważne jest, żebyśmy stali za sobą murem i wspierali się, nic to nie pomagało, a nawet te rozmowy /w najlepszym wypadku/ kończyły się w atmosferze lodowatego milczenia. Było mi żal za to dziecko, które rosło we mnie i żałowałam, że nie umiałam obdarzyć go wszystkimi uczuciami, na które zasługiwało od swojej mamy. Było mi żal za samą siebie, że musiałam przez to przechodzić, zamiast cieszyć się ciążą, która na pewno jest ostatnią w moim życiu. Byłam rozżalona, wkurwiona i zła i smutna i to wszystko, to nic w porównaniu z ciągłymi wymiotami i bólem brzucha. Kiedy przyjechaliśmy do Japonii, zapisaliśmy się na dodatkowe badania w klinice położniczej, w Tokyo i nie mogłam się doczekać. Nie mogłam się doczekać, aż ktoś mi powie, że to wszystko, to tylko nieporozumeinie, ale jednocześnie bałam się tej wizyty jak cholera, bo wszystko mogło potoczyć się w złym kierunku i nie wiedziałam, czy sobie z tym poradzimy. Odbyłam rozmowę z lekarzem przez internet i poradzono mi, żebym poddała się biopsji kosmówki, ponieważ badania wykazały, że nasze dziecko ma duże stężenie NT. Odmówiłam i postanowiłam, że zrobię jeszcze jedno badanie ultradźwiękowe i badanie krwi, ale lekarz w Nowej Zelandii powiedział mi, że badanie krwi nie ma sensu, bo wyniki na pewno będą złe. Kiedy przyjechaliśmy do Japonii i zmieniliśmy wszystkie plany podróży, z powodu umówionej wizyty w klinice, miały minąć jeszcze dwa dni agonii w oczekiwaniu na wyznaczony dzień. Dwa dni, które minęły w tak ogromnym stresie, że kiedy teraz o nich myślę, widze tylko gęstą mgłę. I w końcu nadszedł sądny dzień. Przysięgam, że tamto badanie ultradźwiekięm, to było njabardziej przerażające 15 minut w moim życiu. Pani, która je robiła nie mówiła ani słowa po angielsku. Przez cały czas po policzkach spływały mi łzy i ciągle pytałam OK? OK?, a ona tylko dziwnie kiwała głową i wydawała z siebie dźwięk, którego nie mogłam roszyfrować. Na własnej skórze przekonałam się co, do cholery, oznacza być zagubionym w tłumaczeniu. Cała w spazmach, czekałam na lekarza, aż spojrzy na wyniki badań. Ta sytuacja była ewidentie zbyt pełna emocji dla tej biednej kobiety, która czuła się niezręcznie, nie wiedziała jak się zachować i pewnie pragnęła tylko, żeby teleportowali ją do jakiegoś innego pokoju, gdzie normalna, japońska pacjentka umie zachować swoje uczucia dla siebie, lepiej, niż ja. Ale po raz pierwszy w życiu, gówno mnie to obchodziło. Przez całe życie martwiłam się, jak moje zachowanie wpływa na uczucia innych ludzi, czy nie sprawiam nikomu przykrości, ale w tamtej chwili widziałam jak ta biedna pani cierpi, niczym zamknięta w kabinie ciśnieniowej i gówno mnie obchodziło, że to ja jestem przyczyną jej cierpienia. Przecież nie mogłam panować nad reakcją mojego ciała na stres i byłam naprawdę wkurwiona, że kobieta pracuje w międzynarodowej klinice i nie może powiedzieć jednego, pieprzonego słowa po angielsku, żeby mnie pocieszyć. Po całej tej walce, którą obie musiałyśmy stoczyć, przez minuty, które ciągnęły się, niczym godziny, do gabinetu wszedł lekarz, spojrzał baaaardzo dokładnie na wyniki, zrobił jeszcze kilka skanów, rozmawiając po japońsku z biedną kobietą i patrzył na mnie wzrokiem, który nic mi nie mówił i byłam gotowa zabić. Przez chwilę wyobraziłam sobie, jak z zimną krwią zabijam ich oboje i ten obraz pozwolił mi zachować spokój, aż w końcu powiedzieli mi, że poziom NT nie jest tak wysoki, jak wykazały badania w Nowej Zelandii, teraz był na granicy normalnego poziomu. 3.4 mm, powiedział. Nie jest dobrze, ale nie jest źle. Cokolwiek to onzacza. Mogę być teraz zadowolna? Czy jeszcze nie? Czy to jest dobra wiadomość? I jakie to ma, do cholery, znaczenie, że wyniki były inne w Nowej Zelandii? Co mam o tym myśleć? Co dalej? Miałam w głowie tyle pytań, ale nasza rozmowa była bardzo ograniczona i musiałam zaakceptować fakt, że sytuacja nie jest już tragiczna i trzeba czekać na wyniki badań krwi. Arigato, arigato, ukłon do podłogi i papa. Pomyślałam, że powinnam czuć ulgę i może nawet trochę ją czułam, ale nie aż tak, jakbym chciała. Pan. B jest optymistą, więc przyjął tę wiadomość jako SUPER, WSZYSTKO JEST OK, ale mi, która zawsze się martwię, nie udzialał się jesgo optymizm. Dużo jeszcze przed nami, co najmniej dwa różne badania krwi, może amniopunkcja, wiele badań serca dziecka na różnych etapach ciąży i kto wie co jeszcze. Patrzyłam przed siebie i widziałam tylko długie miesiące niepewności i jedno badanie za drugim, bo do każdego badania dziecko musi mieć odpowiedni wiek. Miałam też przed oczami czas spędzony w oczekiwaniu na wyniki kolejnych badań. Wiedziałam, że będę wolna od tego piekła dopiero po urodzeniu dziecka. Od teraz, to była moja rzeczywistość. Byliśmy w Japonii dokładnie 3 lata temu. Zrobiłam test ciążowy w Beppu 14.02.2013 i okazał się pozytywny, byliśmy już wtedy we trójkę. Miał się urodzić Leo. I było to dla nas jedno z bardziej abstrakcyjnych doświadczeń. Trzy lata później, 2016, znowu byliśmyw Japonii. Przez te trzy lata nie mogłam się doczekać, żeby tam wrócić. Japonia była dla mnie jednym z najbardziej intensywnych doświadczeń podróżniczych. Zupełnie inna od wszystkiego, co do tej pory znałam. Oszałamiająca, intrygująca, szokująca, inspirująca, wizualnie wyjątkowa i intensywna. Przez 3 lata miałam ciągłe flashbacki z Japonii, zapach powietrza, światła, dotyk zimna na mojej skórze albo tylko smak chwili i znowu tam byłam. Chciałam tam wrócić, bo w Japonii czułam wszystko o wiele mocniej. Moje zmysły stały przed wyzwaniem, wszystkie w tym samym czasie i to było wspaniałe uczucie. A więc znowu tu jesteśmy, nasza trójka w Japonii, Leo był chodzącą i mówiąca osobą, z którą świetnie spędza się czas i z którą ciężko się spędza czas, z którym jednocześnie super odkrywa się na nowo świat, ale potrafi to być wycieńczające, ale który jest nieodłączną częścią naszego świata. A tym razem jest nas czworo. Kolejne życie, które noszę w brzuchu, kolejne życie, które jest podwójną niebieską linią na kawałku plastiku i mnóstwem wydruków z badań ultradźwiękiem. Życie, które jest dla nas zagadką, nie dlatego, że nie wiemy jak być rodzicem dla malutkiego człowieka, ale dlatego, że ten człowiek będzie kolejnym zaskoczeniem na wielu płaszczyznach. Kiedy wracamy do domu w chwilowym spokoju, wokół jeziora Kawaguchiko, próbuję znowu chłonąć to, co nas otacza. Próbuję żyć chwilą, pozbyć się strachu i cieszyć się tym, co mamy i tym, co zostało nam dane. Wyniki są OK, zagrożenie anomaliami chromosomalnymi jest dośc niskie, ale nie na tyle, żeby mieć jakąkolwiek pewność. Dni pełne niepewności, to nasza nowa rzeczywistość. Czeka nas kolejny test w Polsce, ale na razie, to wystarczy. Wystarczy, żeby mocno przytulić do siebie Małego L, zanim pobiegnie do swoich wyimaginowanych połowów rybackich, wystarczy, żebym pozwoliła się przytulić Panu B. i poczuła do niego miłość, schowaną głęboko pod gorzkimi resztkami z naszych niedawnych kłótni i wystarczy, żebym w końcu dotknęła mojego brzucha, który nie jest już tylko mój i pozwoliła sobie poczuć szczęście za tę rosnącą istotę, nowy element układanki, jaką jest nasza rodzina. Zdrowa, czy nie,to się jeszcze okaże.

Tłumaczenie: Weronika Makowska

 

 

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witoszyn

witoszyn

 

 

It is hard to believe that last time I posted photos on my blog was over a year ago.

I’d like to start taking care of this little place of mine again.

But it is damn hard. The brake was so long.

I wanted to come back couple of times, and it almost felt like getting back with somebody I broke up with. Than I started asking myself questions, a lot of question that remained without answers and I just could not. I still don’t have those answers and questions keep popping out in my head. I am unsure, mixed up, little disoriented and overall I feel like an elephant trying to feel comfortable in a tiny traffic shop.

Last year was very difficult. For me it was probably the most difficult year so far in many ways. I stopped blogging and doing almost everything that made me the person I was due to our life situation. I was fighting a personal crisis, we were trying to make our relationship work and there were times when all I could think about was to just keep it all together till the next morning.

When some things loosened up a bit I wanted to step back on the track and I realised it does not work that way. You cant just leave a train and than after 10 months jump on the same one like nothing happened. I felt like I am standing in the middle of nowhere without any idea where to go or what to do. And I simply could not figure out what kind of sense this makes.

Why should I be back and be back to what exactly. Why should I share my life, my privacy, my fears, my pain, my happiness with somebody out there. Why should I write these posts and show pictures of our life. I was confused, I felt like I owe that to somebody, some abstract faceless persona out there, and at the same time there was sort of my inner rebellion towards that senseless feeling telling me that on the contrary I don’t owe anything to anybody and it is just me and thats it.  How should I start doing that again and WHY.

So I did not force anything. I copied photos from my the card to the computer, many times without even looking at them, moved them into new folders, named them, categorised them, closed them and forgot them. There was no need to share myself. And many times I was also questioning my right to share bits of Leo’s world with anybody out there.

And where am I now? I still have no idea. But I guess that it is all part of some healing process and therapy, of moving forward.

I am here to see if that makes any sense or if I just have to move on with things in a different way. If this will make me feel OK,  if there is anything I have to say to myself and to incidental you, if there is anybody out there who wants to listen at all, and if that is important after all.

One year can be so short and so long, so meaning less and meaning full. One year can be a lifetime.

Or maybe I am simply strong enough again to stand the judgements of strangers who don’t know me at all and to whom I am exposing myself voluntarily.

PS: Last weekend we spent in a small wooden house in Witoszyn. When we packed on Monday morning and were about to leave, Leo hid himself in the corner and said he does not want to go back to Warsaw and he wants to live in the woods. That made me very happy. I think he also felt the magic of that gloomy atmosphere.

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Ciężko uwierzyć że od ostatniego razu kiedy wrzuciłam zdjęcia na bloga minął rok.

Chcę znowu zacząć dbać o to moje miejsce.

Ale to cholernie trudne. Przerwa trwała za długo.

Chciałam zacząć pisać kilka razy i czułam się prawie, jakbym miała wrócić do kogoś, z kim zerwałam. Zaczęłam zadawać sobie pytania, wiele pytań, które pozostawały bez odpowiedzi i nie dałam rady. Nadal nie mam odpowiedzi i pytania wciąż pojawiają się w mojej głowie. Jestem niepewna, zagubiona, trochę zdezorientowana i ogólnie, czuję się jak słoń, który próbuje poczuć się komfortowo w kiosku ruchu.

Zeszły rok był bardzo trudny. Pod wieloma względami, chyba najtrudniejszy ze wszystkich. Z powodu naszej sytuacji życiowej, przestałam pisać bloga i robić wszystko to, co sprawiało, że jestem tym, kim jestem. Zmagałam sie z wewnętrznym kryzysem, próbowaliśmy uratować nasz związek i bywały chwile, kiedy myślałam tylko o tym, żeby dotrwać do następnego dnia.

Kiedy tylko wszystko wyluzowalo odrobinę, chciałam znów wrócić do gry, ale zdałam sobie sprawę, że to nie takie proste. Nie możesz tak po prostu wysiąść z pociągu i po 10 miesiącach, wskoczyć do tego samego przedziału, jak gdyby nigdy nic. Czułam się, jakbym stała na jakimś pustkowiu i nie miała żadnego pojęcia, dokąd iść, ani co robić. Cały czas nie wiedziałam, czy to wszystko ma jakiś sens.

Dlaczego miałabym wrócić i do czego tak naprawdę. Po co miałabym dzielić się moim życiem prywatnym, obawami, bólem, szczęściem z obcymi ludźmi. Po co pisać posty i pokazywać zdjęcia z naszego życia. Miałam mętlik w głowie, czułam się, jakbym była komuś coś winna, jakiejś abstrakcyjnej osobie bez twarzy i w tym samym czasie, odzywał się we mnie głos buntu, sprzeciwiający się temu wszystkiemu, który mówił mi, że wręcz przeciwnie, nikomu nie jestem nic winna, jestem tylko ja i to wszystko. Jak mam zacząć od nowa i DLACZEGO.

Nie chciałam robić niczego na siłę. Wiele razy zgrywałam zdjęcia z karty pamięci na komputer, nawet ich nie oglądając. Kopiowałam je do nowych folderów, nazywałam je, przydzielałam do różnych kategorii, zamykałam i zapominałam o nich. Nie miałam potrzeby dzielić się mną. I wiele razy zastanawiałam się, czy mam prawo dzielić się z kimkolwiek strzępkami świata Leo.

Gdzie teraz jestem? Nadal nie mam pojęcia. Wydaje mi się, że to wszystko jest częścią procesu leczenia, terapii i podążania naprzód.

Piszę, żeby zobaczyć, czy to ma sens albo czy powinnam pójść w innym kierunku. Czy to sprawi, że poczuję się lepiej, czy mam coś do powiedzenia sobie i przypadkowemu tobie, czy jest w ogóle ktoś, kto chce słuchać i czy ma to jakieś znaczenie.

Rok może oznaczać bardzo krótko albo bardzo długo, może być znaczący lub zupełnie nieistotny.

Jeden rok może być całym życiem.

A może po prostu czuje się znowu na tyle silna, żeby znieść ocenę obcych ludzi, którzy mnie nie znają i przed którymi obnażam się z własnej woli.

PS. Zeszły weekend spędziliśmy w małym, drewnianym domku w Witoszynie. Kiedy w poniedziałek rano spakowaliśmy się i mieliśmy wyjeżdżać, Leo schował się w kącie i powiedział, że nie chce wracać do Warszawy, chce mieszkać w lesie. Bardzo mnie to ucieszyło. On chyba też poczuł magię tej ponurej atmosfery.

Tłumaczenie: Weronika Makowska

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Pictures hunting in Malta

Pictures hunting in Malta

  

Our trip to  Malta was full of strong emotions.  It was first time for Little L to travel by plane, which was not as bad as I have worried.  In Malta his first two teeth came out and that was connected with A LOT of crying. We did not have even one meal where Bart and me would sit at the table at the same time. There always had to be one of us walking around with the pushchair trying to calm him down. I was feeling sorry for our room neighbours, as I can still very well remember how I did not have much understanding with babies crying in my “before Little L life”.

But there were also fun times, short moments when Little man forgot his teeth were growing. Moments of shock when he found himself surrounded by unimaginable amount of water in the swimming pool, which made an impression on him for 15 minutes and than he reminded himself those two teeth in his mouth and forgot the rest. Moments when he was overwhelmed by palm trees moving in wind, kids playing in swimming pool, or his newly acquired ability to sit by himself .

There were also couple of uninterrupted minutes when he fell asleep outside either in pushchair or in carrier, whichever he preferred :). And in those treasured priceless minutes of quiet we were hunting for the light and photos with Mr.B. Light in Malta was amazing and the place itself was quite a surprise. I’ve experienced loads of very powerful flashbacks while walking around. I felt as if I was in Tunisia, France, Italy, Israel, England at times even in Japan. Loads of amazing old shop signs, abandoned houses, mixed architecture, nice beaches, impressive buildings with touch of great details and everything within 20 minutes drive. It definitely is a place worth to go back and explore more.

I think Little L changed me in a massive way, I become partly a new person and there is no turning back to who I was before. I became much more emotional, I treasure  our love with  Mr.B and life we have together much more, I value every day events more and I cry way to often :). I cried a river when Mr.B left from Malta after one week. I cried a lot when there was small boy with two teeth sitting next to me in the airplane on the way back and I realised how much two weeks mean in Little L’s life, I cried when I said good bye to my mom on the airport in Vienna knowing last time I spent one week holidays with her was almost 20 years ago. And I have to say I enjoy this new emotional crying me. It seems as if my life was more vivid and more fulfilled….not to mention that I did not have 50 photos post in a long time :)

  

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moving pictures from Primorje

  

and little video from our trip….enjoy your sunday

  

  
Primorje from Bart Pogoda on Vimeo.
 camera, edit, colors – Silvia & Bart Pogoda
music Pink Martini – Anna (el negro zumbon)
www.bartpogoda.net
www.silviapogoda.com

  

Milky bar crisis in Piran

Milky bar crisis in Piran

  

During last months of my pregnancy when I looked like a whale abandoned on the shore by greenpeace I was dreaming, dreaming, dreaming about going for a road trip somewhere as soon as I could fit into the car seat. Mr.B and I planned all sorts of possible scenarios. Of course we knew there will be one more person with us, but we had no clue. Logically if parents love to travel the kid HAS to love it just as much.

Out of all the options we were thinking about, road trip to Brittany won. It is not that far, it has an atmosphere and there was a great house on airbnb to rent. I could see all the photos we would take, I could see Mr.T playing with a ball on the beach the only thing I could not imagine was Little L, but I was sure he will do fine. We planned to spend whole february traveling around north cost of France. That was until Little man did not enter our world. Yes we took him for 9 hours drive when he was three weeks old, and than again seven hours when he was six weeks old. I wont say it all went without problems. He made it quite well in the car, but he sure was confused when changing places. Than we drove to Vienna for couple of days and back to Slovakia and Little L was responding better to the changes of enviroment. But we still could not imagine taking him for 20 hours car trip….and so even though we love to travel and he sure loves to travel just as much we quit our idea and started looking for easier options.

First idea was Venice, there is always a good time to go to Venice…..well maybe not when you have a stroller to get around with and its carneval time. And so there was only one possible place left….Piran. We ve been there before and we knew it is always good time to go to Piran :). I could remember how much we walked, chilled, read books and how much I was drawing last time we took couple of days of and drove there from Vienna. It really seemd to be crazy close…almost not long enough for propper conversation and there was even possibility to survive being vegan and eating in restaurants.

So I packed my book, my sketchbook and we were ready to hit to road. Little L did well….he slept most of the time probably did not even realize we made a roundabout and stopped for one night in Plitvice in Croatia. That was supposed to be something new for us, so we would not only repeat what we have done before. And it was also our first big fail traveling with a baby. Plan was to sleep three nights close to Plitvice national park and show Little L a little bit of beauty of the nature. BUT the park was only partially opened, which actually meant 90% was closed – something they forgot to inform about on the web page – which did not stop the lady at the counter to ask us to pay for the full ticket. She offerd us to buy the tickets so that we could get to the place from where we can have a look at the road we would be taking if the park was opened. This information made Mr.B very depressed, he took it personaly and was fighting with his own dissapointment and professional traveler ego. And so we packed everything what we unloaded the evening and hit the road to Slovenia.

Piran was cool as always, no bad surprises, no problems, easy going place where you know exactly what you ll get…but this time we experienced it differently. I unpacked my book, my sketchbook and my computer and that was actually the only time I touched them….Little L enjoyed sleeping in the stroller while we were discovering Isola, Strunjan or Portoroz…but he sure did not enjoyed sleeping in the night. The aircon in the room that served as heating was killing him. He litteraly slept on my tits, like a true hedonist…every hour having a little drink and falling asleep again…Nights became my nightmares for the first time in his short life. But appart from our sleep deprivation we had a really really good time, eating great food, walking at least 10 km per day, taking photos, enjoing ourselves in our new situation ….On Valentines day I reminded myself how I freaked out exactly one year ago when I took a pregancy test in Japan. It was something I could not imagine, and I did not even want to. We were in Japan, traveling around, planing what we ll do in sommer, we had no responsiblity for anyone, we were free and we liked it. And there was this strange writing telling me it is actually already three of us. I freaked out so much that the first thing I did was that I smoked two cigarettes in a row. This year on the same day I pushed the stroller with sleeping Little L the muddy road of Strunjan national park…I could breath without any problems, I did not smell like an ash tray and I was happy. I am my biggest surprise :)

Now we r ready to unpack, wash the clothes, pack again and take Little L for a next trip to Klodzko and than one week later take him to the place which is his home but he does not know about it, because last time he left it he was just a small blind veggie…now he is a 8 kilo little man :)

Warning: If u dont feel like looking at loads of photos of two cuties Little L and Mr.T dont scroll down! But hell even though Little L is tought subject to photograph as he lays on his back most of the time, its nice to shoot somebody else not just Mr.B’s back for a change :)

  

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Breast feeding and Birds

Breast feeding and Birds

  

I have been wanting to write this post for so long. I was dreaming about it. I planed to do it before Christmas, than during Christmas, than I thought I would post it on 31.12 or maybe 1.1. but I just was not able to take that time. To steal one uninterrupted hour, without beeping of finished washing machine program, barking of Mr.T, crying of Little L., without having to look at pile of clothes waiting to be ironed, diapers waiting to be washed, Mr.T’s hair on the floor screaming to be vacuumed. All those things that have to be done in short breaks when Little L. has successfully finished his visit in milky bar and fell asleep.
Now when it looks like this may be THAT one hour (there is still clothes waiting to be ironed, and full washing machine waiting to be turned on, and Mr.T will probably bark within next 5 minutes) – lets say almost uninterrupted hour I can’t remember what I actually planed to say. To be focused and concentrated exactly when that short moment of peace happens is quite impossible. I feel as I would probably feel if I was a man and I would be expected to have erection on demand – impossible – and I chose this comparison because I don’t even want to talk about mental possibilities but it looks like physical ones stand even more the way.
As soon as THE short moment of peace happens I feel like falling asleep right away…my body stops listening to me and requests to fill up the missing gas. It is not saying that Little L. is a difficult baby,not at all,but time management is different and I find it sometimes difficult to divide the rests of my free time when Little L. sleeps between Mr.T, my family, things I have to do and thing I want to do – the last ones always loose :)

Days are passing by and I see Little L. growing into small person that is not a veggie anymore…He starts to laugh a lot and I love to wake up next to him and see his smile first thing in the morning…A lot of things changed for us, for me…I start loving being a mother…I am not nervous any more about everything that I can’t do…I am not nervous about constant lack of time and days filled with repeated actions…I feel like a helpless observer when looking at Little L….he is changing daily…he is growing at ultra fast speed and only through him I am now able to understand passing of time…I know everything will be different in month, in half a year or in one year and I will miss these moments so much…moments of him being so taintlessly and absolutely dependent on us…A lot of things changed….the worse fear I had before giving a birth was me breast feeding…It was my secret night mare..I was googling any kind of information about women who refuse to breast feed because they don’t feel comfortable about it…I just could not imagine it happen…My breast were for my whole adult life a synonym for sexuality and now they were about to change their designation and a small human being was supposed to suck them all day long…HOW????….I desperately needed to know that it is OK not to be into breast feeding in the times when women fight for society to accept public breast feeding as something normal…and here I am, two months after giving birth breast feeding and what more…I find it absolutely beautiful…it’s the time when me any Little L. are completely detached from rest of the world and closed in our own bubble…I see him calming down, feeling secure, holding my finger and examining my face over and over…I love those moment and that incredible bond that it creates between us…

This year was actually the first time that I was sort of thinking about making some sort of resolutions for coming year…and surprisingly it has nothing to do with the need and necessity to plan that is essential when having a baby….my urge for resolution appeared while watching Winged Migration…I know it is an old movie, but I was never able to watch it as there are birds dying…this year I watched the movie while breast feeding Little L….it seemed as good time to give it a try and I was hypnotized…completely and absolutely…paralyzed by by the beauty and perfection of the nature…the majesty and flawlessness of birds…and the combination of those two was breath taking….and than comes the human to the picture and everything is fucked up…each trace of human action is like a black depressive cloud full of shit….humans and their creations their greed their ignorance their arrogance and ability to damage and devastate…many times I feel ashamed for human race…many times I wish they were not given a chance to spoil such beautiful place…but there are moments when I feel hate, strong extreme hate…and watching Winged Migration was one of them..I felt I need to do more, much more, to change more in my life…not that it would change the world but it would make me feel better about myself…it would make it easier for me to live with the fact that I am also contributing to destruction of nature by the way I live….So my resolution was to find ways how to lower the negative side effects of my being here…I plan to cut down buying crap, I plan to be more precise when it comes to choosing products I use…we already use only not tested cosmetics and cleaning products, but there is still place where I have to be more aware of what I use and choose, I plan to go more for second hand chooses when possible, I plan not to buy shoes, clothes this year, I plan to take some plastic bags when we go out for walks in the nature and pick up the shit that people leave behind…I simply plan to be more aware of my actions than I was until now…And I plan to illustrate a book for Litte L.

  

Little L is 9 weeks old today…in his short life he spent first 3 weeks in Warszaw, next 3 weeks in Klodzko, now 3 weeks in Slovakia and we are already packing to move a bit more south to Vienna…we make him live the way we live which means to constantly move between three places, three countries…just as I did for last 5 years without knowing which one is actually “home” and I already resigned on actually trying to define one of those places as my home…I don’t have that need anymore…the need to attach to one place, to imaginary strike my roots somewhere…my home is where Mr.B, Mr.T and now Little L is…and we have loads of travel plans for near future…dear Little man I hope u don’t mind :)PS: Some of these photos are taken from my INSTAGRAM account, so I apologize to those of you who have seen them already

  

16 days of roller coaster

16 days of roller coaster

  

Its been 16 day since Mr.L made his appearance into this world….16 crazy days…emotional roller coaster ride. There has been a LOT of crying….crying for no reason, crying for millions of reasons…out of sentiment, out of love, out of pain, fear, happiness, sadness, exhaustion, despair, simply loads of crying. Whatever I have thought that might happen after I become a mother was galaxies away from reality. And it started with birth itself. I was dreaming of a home water birth….I saw myself in that funny plastic pool in the middle of our living room. Mr.B would be cooking a dinner, Mr.T would be shocked running around, and I would be giving a birth to our son looking into the garden on those huge black crowns that wander around, of course with the assistance of a skilled midwife that I would fully trust. My dream of a home birth was cut short when I actually met the midwife which is known in Poland for promoting home births. Well the first thing she did when we met was telling me to give birth in the birth house that she runs and not to do it at home without actually giving me some reasonable explanation except for bureaucratic obstructions. I was so shocked that I could hardly talk to her back. The reason why I came to give birth in Poland was that I wanted to do it my way – the way it is not possible in Slovakia. And there is this “most” competent person who should help me and support me telling me that I should do it in her facility which , as she thinks, looks almost like at home. I was trying to fight back but when she asked about my past and heard about my miscarriage 3 years ago there was no more talking. I was simply not qualified to give birth at home. So I was trying to refocus myself to the idea that Mr.T will not be there during my labor, that Mr.B will not be making dinner and I will not look into the garden instead I will walk down that sterile hallway with plastic floor, horrible lights to end up in a room which is supposed to feel like home but in reality it feels like a fake room pretending to be “home” with fake bed pretending to be my bed, the room where nothing feels like home. But it seemed that there is no other way so I had to and I did sort of adopted that idea, but soon after new circumstances started to pop out. It looked like my pregnancy will never end and Mr.L has decided not to ever come out for some reason. I even started to think that he was gonna start to get smaller and smaller again until he would just disappear. The longer I was past my due date, the more confusing opinions I was getting from different doctors that were seeing me almost daily. Suddenly I did not even qualified for birth in the birth house because according to USG Mr.L was over 4 kg which meant I had to give birth in a proper hospital. All the pictures I had in my mind faded away and I was left with nothing to hold on to. All my plans, everything was gone and I lost the solid ground under my feet. After two very stressful and chaotic days of decision making I ended up in completely different hospital than planed, with midwifes I did not know. I did all I could to give natural birth, not at home in the water, not in the birth house…in the hospital but at least natural. I wanted the best for Mr.L and I am sure natural birth is the best. After 17 hours of labor my last dream exploded and it only took half an hour until I was connected to all kinds of machines with blue courtain in front of my face and Mr.B holding my hand….in a terrifying fear prepared for C section – something that I did not even think of as a possibility for long 10 months. Something that was such a bad option that I just forgot that it existed. The reason I am writing all this is the one short but monumental moment when I thought I’ve gone insane, the moment when I felt as if I traveled into the space around the earth and back in one second…the moment when I heard Mr.L cry, I could not see him, all I could see was tears in Mr.B’s eyes… I think if I gave birth the way I hoped it would be great peaceful and quiet experience, but the way things turned out made me go through something overwhelmingly strong….I felt so sorry for giving birth that way, I felt sorry for that little guy who was cut out of my body and held by some strange guy with a mask on his face and plastic gloves on his hands into the cold white hospital lights and sounds of surgical instruments instead of Nigel Kennedy as I planned. I was so sorry that first people touching Mr.L are those anonymous silhouettes doing their routine in the most emotionless way possible. I was following Mr.B with my eyes just to read from his face if everything is OK and the moment he looked at me and gave me a sign that little guy has all his fingers and other body parts on the proper places I could finally start to cry… Its been 16 days since the big bang day and I have cried every single day. I cried because my heart or whatever is the place where we store our emotions got so full that it felt painful. It was full of love towards Mr.B for being the best father, to Mr.T for accepting little man and towards Mr.Leo who came from some unknown galaxy and crawled on my chest as a little / ok maybe not so little / warm looking so lost and confused. I cried because in one moment I could feel all the fears of generations of mothers, I cried because I thought I can not handle having one more person to worry about in my life, I cried because I was looking at Mr.Leo and I had to think of mortality in a completely new way, I cried because I was afraid I will die while he is still a child and I will not be able to be there for him when he goes through hard times of growing up, I cried because I wanted to pause life for a moment, I wanted to have a chance to record all his facial expressions, every single sound he made, just to remember it. I cried because I knew it was not possible and that I am going to forget tons of beautiful moments and it felt so unfair. I cried because Mr.Leo cried, I cried because I was tired of Mr.Leo crying, I cried because I thought I will not make it – we will not make it, I cried because I thought I am the worse mother ever, I cried when I realized this is for real and I can’t give him back in hospital claiming that he is not what I asked for after not sleeping for 4 nights. I cried because he was so vulnerable, so fragile, so helpless that it hurt me. I cried for Mr.T because I was worried how he feels, I cried because Mr.B was the best husband I could wish for, I cried because I was so happy that it was literally taking my breath, I cried because I was feeling ugly and worn out, I cried because I forgot my bathrobe in the hospital, I cried when I went for the first walk with Mr.T alone, and I cried for no reason at all. Yes I did jump on a craziest emotional rollecoaster of my life, going up and down, going really high and really low within seconds. Most intense 16 days of my life and I believe of Mr. Leo’s as well :). Its has been very exhausting both physically and mentally, every single day brought some new challenges to fight with and I know this is just a beginning. For now all I can do is take it as it comes hour by hour, day by day. I don’t even plan for tomorrow, because tomorrow everything happens according to Mr.Leo’s decision and I will go with the flow. I’m learning a lot these days….I m looking out of the window thinking of novembers…november three years ago when I was short after loosing our “first” child and than I have to pinch myself to remind me that this all is happening for real.

PS: My instagram feed naturally became Mr.Leo and Mr.Teo feed…oh yes now I understand why that happens….simply because I spend 24 hours with those two polyps at home, ironing and doing washing in the short breaks between nursing.

PS 2: I have received a beautiful letter…true letter not an email from a person who did not leave any contact so I can’t write back. But I hope that person will read this one day and will know that I am very very very thankful for those words as much as for the fact that it was a letter and also for the fact that that person had to think how to deliver it to me as she did not know my address and simply for deciding to write it. Thank you so much !!!!

  

 

 

final countdown

final countdown

  

It is for sure, that this is my last post that I am writing pregnant. Actually there is not much that I have to say or show. It turned out that pregnancy is not thrilling state of being as well as subject to write about more than once :), ..or at least for me. If there was some prize or grades giving at the end of those 10 months I sure would not be standing and waiting in the front row. Last weeks, particularly last two are nothing more than just waiting and counting the hours…Not that I could not wait for the change of situation, I simply find living with myself, in my body absolutely unappealing and exhausting. I did not go through this period of my life with much of a spiritual “grace” so to say – its somehow hard for me to be spiritual gaining 23 kg and developing horrible cellulite….I did not feel connected with mother earth or with cosmic powers, I did not feel blessed from God or touched by the spirits crying from sentiment that there is a life blooming inside of me like a magic flower, I did not have goosebumps each time I touched my belly, in fact I was not touching it that much, I did not feel chills going up my spine each time Mr. Little moved inside of me – even though it was pretty impressive sometimes, I did not take my belly selfies with iPhone in the mirror each week, I did not start to write a diary for my unborn child and did not make the ultrasound picture my FB profile photo. I was simply pregnant. It was the only fact I could comprehend, anything else was way beyond my imagination. Even though it is now one last week to go I still cant picture the situation that one day we will be entering our flat together with little person that is to join our 4 and half years quite well functioning little family of three. Of course I know, heard it millions of times, how great and cool and magic it is going to be, but that is something I have to experience in order to understand. For now I am just thinking how it is going to change us ….change Mr.B who probably gets the whole thing even less then me, what is Mr.T going to do as he was almost 10 years my little polyp, how I am going to change. I am expecting all that hormones explosions that I heard about. Am I going to be the mama who only takes photos of her child, every minute of the day, Mr.Little smiling, crying, Mr.Little in dipper sleeping, Mr.Little in the bath looking shocked, Mr.Little licking his fingers, Mr.Little in new cute outfit, Mr.Little in the carseat, Mr.Little under the christmas tree, Mr. Little without the diaper on the bed, on Mr.B’s chest, in my lap, Mr.Little from left, from right, from above and from far….I am not saying there is anything wrong about doing that I’m just wondering if that will naturally become my new instagram feed and I will be completely ok and happy with it. I m thinking how we are going to change as a family….Couple of days ago we were sitting with Mr.B in our little tiny “office” which normally meant that Mr.B was editing photos or videos, I was drawing and Mr.T content that we are all together in such a small place snoring. Well lately I don’t sit there that much as sitting for longer time is quite uncomfortable, but the other night I was sitting there…Mr.T was doing pretty much the same thing as always, Mr.B was watching tutorials on how to operate Red camera and ME? I was watching tutorials as well, tutorials on eco cloth diapers….So here I am waiting for the birth as it will free me from this huge body that is no longer mine, it will allow me to move freely again – not just a short walks with T as I either have pain or I have to go pee, we will be traveling again, I will be able to sit for longer than half an hour, and life will get back to normal, new normal but normal….we ll be sharing everything we know with a little person, showing him the life we love, rediscovering for ourselves small simple things in order to be able to let the small guy experience them as new. But most of all I wish that we will not loose the balance, balance between what makes us us and between being parents, balance between giving ourself to the little man and not forgetting that we are also a couple that is here for each other, and of course not ever letting Mr.T feel that he is of less importance for us as there is a baby on board. If we’ll manage that, there is nothing else I could wish for…besides some exciting illustration job and seeing murmuration live…and some other dreams that are waiting in line….
  

  

home is wherever I am home

home is wherever I am home

 
 

Last week we went for a short trip – “vacation” to Mazury. We would love to make a longer trip to some more exciting destination but even those 3 hours in the car were not the most pleasant experience of my life. For some time now we were trying to find sort of an “escape” place not far from Warsaw, where we could easy drive (not for 6 hours) to spend couple of days. A place that would fulfill our – I don’t think hight – expectations, which means privacy, nice surroundings, lake or river, apartment with kitchen, not to many people which in reality means from 2 to 0 :), and of course place that does not look like stuck in 90’s super polish design mode. We were not very lucky so last year we to do a trip to Mazury with our beloved Sven….And that truly was something! We came back after 4 days and 3 nights, exhausted, pissed and in a really really bad mood, but that is a separate story. This year I somehow accidentally came across place Masuria Arte and we were sure that is the place. And IT WAS THE PLACE. Everything was perfect. Private lake, loads and loads of space around for walking, only three apartments which meant very few people, nice design, small veggie garden….ideal. BUT that ‘s it. Driving to get there was terrifying – well for me. Before each time when I came to Poland I sort of was taking things easy here, or at least I was trying to (when I forget about our robbed flat and some drunk sick bastard beating me up on the street). Polish adventure was always just an adventure for limited amount of time. I knew I was coming to Poland just for a period of time and I knew I was going back to Vienna. unconsciously this fact was sitting there in the back of my mind and was letting me take things easy. Easy in the sense that I was just overlooking them, taking them as part of “adventure” in this “exotic” country. This year things changed, and they changed a LOT. I know now that I am not packing myself by the end of september and I am not going back to Vienna. I know I am staying here, and next year, and next and next…..This is now the country that I am going to live (if some sort of miracle does not happen and we will not get an offer of well payed jobs somewhere else), the country that is supposed to become my home. And this fact scared the shit out of me in such a way that it even surprised me. And yes, I realized that drive to and back from Mazury. I was thinking if I should write this post at all and not just skip it post the photos without any comment. I hate to cumulate negative energy, as there is enough of it around anyway…and making statement in the virtual space is even more tricky, as people tend to take things more personally and have less distance. But I just have to get it all out no matter how many of those who will read it will think I am a sucker. Whatever you might think, Poland is one of the visually most depressive places I know. Driving through Lomza gave me one of the most creepiest feelings, almost claustrophobic, as if I was closed in a small dark room without air and possibility to get out. That is probably because I realized that these kind of views are my reality now. Since I came here in July I was more or less closed at home or walking around in Saska Kepa. I did have a strange feeling of some sort of agression among people that was kind of hidden under the surface but you could just sense it almost everywhere. Kind of tension, people are not nice to each other, they give u bad looks, they are pissed about something most of the time, talk together in a very provocative way and explode easily. Yes I did feel that around and even tried to explain it to Mr.B who I think is so used to it that he does not see it anymore. But visually I was in a bubble, disturbed by amount of broken glass from bottles along Wisla, or trash that people for some strange reason put in the car and drive it to the wood to drop it. But it still was a bubble. As soon as we left central parts of Warszaw and drove through the outskirts and small towns the bubble just deflated like a truck tire and I was staring around me in shock. What happened in this place should be punished. I remember having a separate post on my blog about how much I love and admire polish poster design. But that is a past….polish design is past. What happened to that craftmanship and mastery of using types, of lettering, of working with colors and space? Where did it all go? Who let this dehonesting situation to go so far. Enormous amount of posters, advertisings, billboards create a separate space within a space. They cover everything that can be covered,using the most awful fonts, and colors and shadings and photos, there is no creativity it is just a plain horror that attacks your sight and gives you headache. Your eyes have no place where they could stop for a minute to rest, it is one attack after another. Billboards covering buildings that have nothing to do with architecture and in between there are these huge gypsum statues of horses, bulls, spiderman, buffalos and I don’t know what else sticking out as some kind of proud figurative masterpieces, together with plastic palms covered in dust. It looks like if somebody delibrately decided to screw up everything that can be screwed. There is zero feeling for any kind of aesthetics, zero feeling for the nature, for combining architecture with the actual space, zero respect for the country and for the people as well. Driving couple of hours through places like this surely must provoke agression. There is no other way. It is like turning on TV and switching the channels really fast for 3 hours, your eyes and brain get so exhausted and besotted that you start to be really nervous and easy irritable which is only one step away from either depression or agression. Now I can say that I really admire people who live here and are still able to create any kind of beauty whatsoever, who remain positive and creative, because I was not positive at all, and even less creative as we arrived to our place, where we literally locked ourselves for one week without any attempts to drive around and discover. I am not gonna try to make this sound any better than I mean it. It really is horrible and something should be done to stop this ridiculous and punishable devastation of the country. And instead of people start being sensitive on it, and start seeing those things trying to change them they get to read even more ridiculous article in one of the most opininon-forming newspaper. An american writer Jenn Pelly visits Poland for music festival and writes and article about it. Besides all the positive reactions to the music scene itself she is so “impertinent” to write also something negative about the place itself. AND SO WHAT. She was right. How come people are only able to accept the glory but reject completely critic? The fact that anonymous readers, frustrated haters and dickheads were insulting her on internet is nothing unexpected or new, but that the text in Gazeta Wybiorcza with master title “Ratunku, naszych bija!” was a true shame. Whoever wrote it probably does not read well in english, does not see, or has some other problem with accepting reality. But the polish reality will not change unless people will not be able to be critical about themselves and have a bit of fucking distance. OK that is about all I wanted to say :) ….. I am not Jenn Pelly and I am not writing an article for american paper….I am coming from postcomuinst country as well …. from country that is FAR away from being perfect in any way just as other countries I know. But that does not mean I can not have an opinion on Poland and that this opinion can even be negative in some aspects. And now I am gonna take Mr.T for “fakir” walk by Wisla and think about black storks……

  

 

still pregnant but back

still pregnant but back

  

I remember very well the day I found out that I was pregnant ( or as some say we were pregnant, even though I believe that couple is expecting a child but pregnant is only one of them ). It was 14th of february. Romantic connection is truly just a coincidence. We were taking shinkansen on our way to Beppu in Japan. I love traveling by trains and never really had a problem with one….well besides the night train with broken heating on the way from Vienna to Warszaw when the outside temperature dropped to minus 20. But if you ever were so lucky to travel by trains in Japan u know that its a synonym for comfort, hygiene and well organized EVERYTHING. So it really shocked me that I felt as if I was dying during that quiet, not shaky trip….I could actually feel every little movement of the train and each tiny “shake” made me wanna throw my stomach out. I knew something was wrong and it was not food poisoning. On the way from station to our ryokan we bought a test. Whatever the japanese letters meant, I could count those two lines and did not need a special translator. It was a shock. I know that may sound stupid as we both are old enough to know how to protect ourselves from pregnancy, but based on our almost 3 years experience we sort of understood that we can not have kids and took it as a fact. And here I am with a positive pregnancy test and confusion in my head….at that moment I could hear Mr.B’s brain working hard, just as hard as mine. Anyway I don’t believe that this is the most interesting story in the world so to make it shorter. I went through period of initial shock, to the period of not quite understanding or admitting the situation, to the moments when I even forgot about it for a short time until I physically started to feel miserable. I had one week in Vienna when I was in the bed without any possibility to move, as each movement was equal to such sort of dizziness which I never experienced before. I suppose I fought in a normal extent the most known symptoms of pregnancy except for puking. THNAK GOD, because I hate puking, I could never suffer from any eating disorder as my hater for puking is so strong that even when I really have to puke my body denies it and I can’t. During the time when I felt really really really tired and my day shrunk to 5 fully valued hours I was thinking that maybe I should use those moments when I m not moving just lying in the bed and start writing about pregnancy. But that was a bad idea, which I realized within one hour. I am just not the type. Up to now we ignored all the pregnancy books, shops for babies, internet pregnancy forums…I was for very long – till the last possible moment ignoring pregnancy clothes which I find terribly unesthetical. ( I do have some pregnancy shirts already as I am really growing bigger and bigger every day ) Well what should I than write about in terms of pregnancy. I just took it as a fact and as soon as I felt my energy coming back I lived my days as before. Finished semester in Vienna, packed all my belongings to boxes and send them on a trip with Mr.B to exotic place called Warszaw. I did a major cleaning of the flat I lived in for almost 6 years, which included washing huge glass doors and wall panels. I survived and accident when one of those glass doors fell out of the door runner rail and 200kg fell straight on me, my belly and tree huge flowerpots that kept the door 40 cm above the ground so I could “easily” crawl from below them. Simply said I did everything as before apart from continuing my blog. I could not because I felt that I should probably write something about our changing life situation but I was not sure what should that be. Now I’m sitting in Warszaw. It took me two weeks, to unpack, organize, clean, organize, clean and organize all the crap one collects. Mr.B is out of town working, Mr.T is slowed down as he thinks it’s to hot and I am pregnant just as I was one or three months ago. But I just felt that it’s a point for me to start blogging again, to start doing whatever again as time goes by really fast and I don’t have much left before giving birth to Mr.Little who as I heard might be sort of time consuming at the beginning. To begin with after the long break I’ll just post a mix of photos from last months. Sorry to those of you who’ve seen them on instagram….but did I mention already that pregnancy sort of paralyzed me for some time and I was not taking consciously any photos…….

PS1: I want to thank to all of you who still follow me on FB page even though I was not active for past months. I want to thank veeeerrrry much to all those who wrote me private messages and who probably did not even realize how important that was for me….reading that people appreciate things I do in the time when I don’t do any is really crazy helping !!!!!

PS2: There are two polish words I can’t stand from the bottom of my heart : ciężarna – which is the same as if somebody called me ciężarowka, which I know I am but don’t have to be reminded of that. dzidziuś – thats really disaster

PS3: I had to add this one as an explanation. I was asked why I’m ignoring literature about pregnancy…..OMG don’t get me wrong..It’s by far not because I am super hero woman who thinks its cool to not ready pregnancy books or read forums and has all the necessary wisdom and knowledge. ON THE CONTRARY, I am freaking out from how much I don’t know….I don’t know when kids start to talk or walk, if somebody told me that this miracles happens at the age of 3 I would completely take it as fact just as much as I would take it as a fact if somebody told me that one year old people discuss, walk and pee in the toilette. If I am to say the age of a child I use a hand gesture showing the kids approximate hight because I cant say if the kid is two or four….I’m not joking now…I have not been around small kids very often, actually I’ve met some person to person only couple of times in my life. So I’m not a hero here, but I DO HATE how pregnant woman becomes automatically a separate category. Its not female and male anymore. It’s female, male and pregnant woman! And based on my seven months experience I do feel I know what I’m talking about. First it starts with the shock that people you hardly know, people you’ve seen once or twice in your life, people who know your mother or people who you don’t know at all approach you and touch your belly first. WHY? It’s like my belly was not part of me anymore…it is some sort of public belonging, it’s something that has been mounted to my body and I am now to carry it but it belongs to everybody. Than it continues when you stand in the line in the shop checking out the veggies waiting for your happy turn, and there they go, all the women who are waiting in the same line start to talk about you. Is it a boy, is it a girl, how you should dress, what you should eat, what you should drink and how your belly looks. It is up, it is down, it is sticking out too much or it is spreading more to the sides. And u are standing there with this public property mounted to your body, you are sweating like crazy, you need to pee NOW and you know you still have couple of months of this “being a subject” situation ahead of you. And the last thing that gets you is the literature. Why is it that pregnant means automatically usage of different language….probably it is meant as a preparation for small baby talks…don’t know…but suddenly the use of diminutives is massive and everything becomes pink or blue, its all about how you should feel, how the confused future daddy should feel, how you are not you anymore but you are a kangaroo – soon to be a mother – new category again, how you stop existing because you are about to bring a new person to the world which means that for some time you are vanishing and you are not important anymore….All sort of strange new words that I’ve never heard before are used to describe your little one – meaning the new person that grows inside of you, all sorts of things you NEED to – in better case – know….but most of the time fear. All the things you NEED to buy, such blanket, such chair, such electronic babysitter or maybe breathing baby monitor or, or, or…..Pregnancy stops being natural and becomes a commodity. That is why I ignore pregnancy literature….I sort of believe in my body’s natural potential and ability to deal with pregnancy, and in mine that I will be able to deal with the newborn kid and I will not need to spend thousands on necessary items that will become unnecessary thrash in couple of months and I do hope that my ability to speak common language will remain more or less the same.
  

 

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I don't want my life to be a reason for other's life to be a suffering that is why I am vegan and that is how I want to raise my son. I love my little family, birds, rainy days and life on the road. I believe in life before death :).


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