Hiatus

Eight months old on the island of Rügen.

So back when I wrote my last entry in, er, September, I didn’t think it would be my last entry until, er, May 2014. But life has a way of taking over and rewriting how you plan a day (or many days) to go. As the GABOJ became more and more mobile, I found myself with less and less time to play on my computer during the daytime. It evolved to a point where he simply wouldn’t allow it anymore, and much whining and crying would commence every time I tried to open up the computer and do something. He was determined that he should be a part of whatever it was I wanted to do. So that left me with evenings for computer time, but if I’m honest, I prioritized other things ahead of writing on my blog. Which is a bit of a shame, because this blog is really for me a way to document our lives as I have a pretty terrible memory. Sorry, where were we? (hehe)

Nine months old.

So I am going to make a New Year’s resolution. (Hush, hush, I am aware this is May. It’s my blog and I make the rules. So there.) I will try to write on my blog more regularly. I won’t make any promises about how often, but I will try to post at least occasionally. Maybe I’ll even surprise myself with a renewed gusto for it.

Let’s get things going by talking about the reason I haven’t blogged since September, bless his little time-consuming heart.

Our little GABOJ is not so little anymore. He’s now 15 1/2 months old and is a ball of energy. He started walking back in March and there’s no stopping him now, running around and getting into as much mischief as possible. He loves the cat, but she has learned to steer clear of him. He hasn’t quite mastered the art of being gentle and not pulling fur and tails. He is obsessed with any type of vehicle, but mostly cars and motorcycles and mopeds. His first word every morning for at least a week now has been “auto,” which is German for car. We’re really starting to think there’s something genetically hard-wired into his little boy brain as he is so stereotypically obsessed with vehicles, and that’s not due to any effort on our part to push him in that direction. He’s a little parrot, repeating words we say all the time. He’s starting to say two words together (like, “big boy,” “Alles klar?” – German for “everything okay?”) and looooves to say “no” or “nein” about a million times a day. He’s gone through a couple of food phases now, the first being “apple” when he’d say it all the time, multiple times a day. And he genuinely wanted to eat some apple pretty much every time. Now he randomly says “pizza” even if it’s morning and nowhere close to lunchtime. But he gets excited when I make it and eats it like a champion. “Raisins” seem to be a new obsession as well.

Ten months old.

When Luke was newborn, I used to feel quite antsy and longing for him to be a bit older as there are so many things about a newborn baby that I find exhausting. The lack of sleep the first few weeks is an all-consuming exhaustion that is really just indescribable. You pretty much just shut down to life-support systems in an attempt to make it through. And at times, there’s colicky crying that won’t stop no matter what you do. The milestones are few and far between for those first few months, so you feel like you are pouring all this love and attention towards a little being without much reward. But someone once said to me that it will never get “easier” as your child grows; the challenges just change. And I see now how true this is. Because while Luke sleeps through the night now, he’s awake for most of the day and has to be watched all the time. I can’t leave the room for a few minutes and not worry too much the way I could when he was immobile. And although we don’t have colicky cries anymore, he will break out into a full-body, throwing-himself-on-the-ground tantrum when he doesn’t get his way about something.

Eleven months old in Indiana.

But still, it’s a pretty adorable age, and I love watching him do his toddler waddle around and repeat words after us in his sweet little voice. And when he runs to me with arms outstretched for a hug, and then nuzzles in to my neck, I can’t imagine spending my time on anything else, even if it means my blog gets a bit dusty.

On his first birthday.

Thirteen months old and dressed for Fasching.

Fourteen months old in Edinburgh, Scotland.

Almost fifteen months old and ready to take on the world.

 

I Heart Deutschland!

Germany’s amber waves of grain.

So a long, long time ago (in a galaxy…oh, wait…ahem), I said that I was going to write an entry entitled “I Heart Deutschland!” That entry was never written, but it was always at the back of my mind that I’d get around to it one day. Well, that day has arrived, dear reader! And it’s likely that the list I would have written back then is different to the one I’ll write today. On the one hand, my impressions of Germany aren’t as fresh as they once were, and some things that stood out to me at that time are probably taken for granted now.  On the other hand, I guess those things that I do really love about Germany have probably stuck in my mind as well as some new ones that have been discovered and can be added to the list. This is probably a topic that I could revisit every few years’ time, and have a completely different list every time. And what I will write below is no way exhaustive. There are many other things I love about living here, but these are a few of the top ones that come to mind.

1. Germany is a very environmentally conscious country, at least much more so than the US and the UK.

Example of the types of containers in every German home. Image taken from here. http://www.feelgreen.de/ist-muelltrennung-noch-zeitgemaess-/id_55199326/index

One of the things I love most about living here is, for example, how easy it is to recycle. In our home, there are three types of refuse containers: garbage, paper, and composting. You also receive a bundle of yellow bags within which you place all of your plastic packaging. (Glass recycling is either by a deposit/refund system, or in containers on the street for those items that didn’t have a deposit paid.) We had recycling containers on the street we lived in Edinburgh, but they were not divided out for each household, and more often than not, they were full and/or inappropriately sorted which made me worry that the items inside might just be dumped and not recycled at all. Here, all of your containers are within your own household, and they have a weekly rotation of being collected. (Every other week for all containers in winter time, and composting is collected every week in summer.) I also love that the yellow bag accepts just about any packaging out there, unlike many of the fussier systems elsewhere where they will only accept certain numbers. If I had to lodge a small complaint, it’s that it can be hard to fit all of the garbage in to one container that is emptied only every other week when you are sharing a household with two other parties. It’s amazing to me that we are a building with six adults and one baby (who wears disposable but biodegradable diapers), and most of the time it works fairly well, with us all sharing one container that is the size of the average American family’s that is collected weekly. We are admittedly the biggest garbage producers in our household (probably by far), but most of the time we don’t have too much extra trash sitting around. And it is possible to purchase one-off garbage bags that can be filled and collected, if your normal receptacle really does spilleth over. Oh, and not only are these awesome containers that separate out your refuse in each home, they are also in public spaces across Germany. Our train station, for example, has garbage, paper and packaging receptacles located all over the station. As does Frankfurt airport. I wish they existed in Würzburg city center along the streets, but still, to have them in places like train stations and airports is a big step forward.

There are lots of other ways Germany is green, too. Part of it comes down to have a heavily populated country with good public transportation compared to the US, but people here take the bus, the train and often just walk or cycle to get from point a to b rather than drive (though Germans obviously do love their cars…) Germany has embraced alternative energy sources like wind and solar, with ambitious plans to phase out nuclear power plants in operation. Organic food is easy to find and comparatively priced to non-organic. Unlike in the US, organic foodstuff isn’t separated out into its own special section; it’s easily identifiable with a green leaf emblem on the shelf label, but it’s mixed right in and next to conventionally produced items throughout the supermarket. In our (relatively small) city center, there are several organic supermarkets, though they are all tiny compared to American standards. And speaking of supermarkets, you won’t receive free grocery bags in most. You can bring your own, or pay for plastic, paper or slightly more expensive cloth bags. It’s a small difference to the US, but makes a huge impact.

People here seem to generally be more aware of environmental problems and care about them. Appliances are usually unplugged or switched off at the outlet when not in use, and are generally much more energy-efficient. Televisions aren’t usually left on all day long. Houses are built to be more energy-efficient, too. People tend to heat less, and air conditioning in homes and public spaces (except for bigger department stores) is practically unheard of. The downside to that is that I practically pass out every time I ride the bus here in 90+ degree weather, but I suppose it is better for the environment.

Germany is by no means perfect with their environmental report card (see my entry about their love of consuming bottled water and refusal to serve tap in some restaurants), but it’s still pretty much leaps and bounds ahead of a lot of other places.

A path leading from the town of Gerbrunn to Randersacker.

2. Pretty much no matter where you want to walk, you can. There is always a path.

For folks living in the UK and reading this, this concept isn’t so unfamiliar as you enjoy laws that allow you the right to access certain categories of uncultivated land—specifically “mountain, moor, heath, down and registered common land.” But for Americans, we’re more used to seeing “Private Property” signs than signs pointing out paths you can walk on.

In fact, it took the Mr. a while to put his finger on it, but every time we’d be Indiana, he’d start to feel a little stir crazy. We’d walk around the local parks to get fresh air and sunshine, and he’d walk along the couple or acres or so of land my parents own, but it was never enough. He realized that in the US, you’re really limited to being able to walk outside unless you do it on your own property, in a town park, or along a road (or of course you can, in theory, walk in a town center, but those are a dying breed in the US, and many towns have more thriving suburbs vs centers). Here in Germany, you can walk pretty much anywhere except in the yard surrounding someone’s home. In the fields and meadows that dot the land between towns and cities, there is almost always a path of some sort and land to walk on. You don’t have to worry that you’re trespassing on someone’s private property, or, that you might even be shot at for doing so. (Which where I come from, isn’t entirely unheard of.) We can rent a car, go off driving into the countryside, and within only minutes we will undoubtedly come across a small dirt or sometimes paved road that leads out into a field. You are allowed not only to drive on this (unless there is a sign indicting otherwise), but also park and…just start to walk. It’s that simple. No one cares. You can get fresh air, a healthy bit of exercise, or even perhaps a quick pee break if no one is around and you can hide behind some trees or bushes. There’s so much land in the US, and I lived in a very rural part of it, but even there, good luck finding a spot for a pee break that isn’t fenced off or covered in “Private Property” signs. And forget trying to do a nice walk in nature that isn’t on your own property or in a park.

Maybe there are other parts of the US where the land is more accessible. I’ve often wondered if states that have more of an “outdoor culture” are easier to walk around. If anyone lives in any part of the US like this, let me know. Finding an area of the US a little more like Germany in this respect might be my only chance of ever moving back to the States, because the Mr. isn’t sure he could live so “fenced in.”

Who wouldn’t want to get paid looking after this guy?

3. There’s a healthier work/life balance, at least compared to the US. Germans are considered the “hard-working” Europeans on the continent and this is financially the richest country, but somehow the Germans still manage a decent work/life balance. In Bavaria, for example, we enjoy the most public holidays out of any of the German states (though the others don’t trail too far behind). There’s statutory paid parental leave (the US is actually the only OECD country without it), and other financial benefits to having a child or children here. (For example, although I’ve never worked a day in Germany, I’m actually paid at the moment to be a stay-at-home mom. No joke.) Although it possibly depends a little on what you do for a living, there seems to be more of a cultural acceptance that when you leave work for the evening, you leave work for the evening. So many of my friends and family who work back in the US don’t have that clearly delineated break between work and family life, and struggle with the expectation that they often have to continue working (checking emails, preparing a presentation, etc.) once they’re home. It’s also maddening to me how little paid vacation Americans typically get. It’s been a while, but if I remember correctly, in addition to the measly public American holidays, I got one paid day off my first year that I worked a full-time job. And after an entire year of working, I finally got 10 days of paid leave. That time would have increased slowly over the years if I had continued working there, but given that most people change jobs at least few times over a lifetime if not more often than that (especially when young and figuring out what one really wants to do), it means you can end up working for several years with little to no paid vacation. In Germany, it’s statutory that for full-time employment, you get at least 20 work days for the standard 5-day-workweek, plus 9 to 13 public holidays(depending on which state you live in.) Not too shabby, eh?

There are lots of other things I love about Germany, but those are some of the biggies. What do you love about where you live? What would you change?

As usual, I’m a bit behind posting our explorations over the past few weeks. But it’s been an incredibly hot weekend here in Würzburg (we had 38 degrees celsius yesterday, which is 100.4 fahrenheit!), and I’m finally taking some time and plunking myself down in front of the computer. Not much energy to do anything else, really!

The view from Schwanberg.

The Mr. is seemingly on a mountainous kick, at the moment, as our day trip to Kreuzberg monastery that I wrote about in my last entry was followed up by a trip to Schwanberg. Schwanberg hill (think it’s too small to be considered an actual mountain as Wikipedia refers to it as an “elevation”) is located near the town of Kitzingen. In ancient times it was used by the Celts as a fortification, and later a castle (which still exists today) was built by the counts of Castell. We weren’t able to tour the castle as we had our pram with us and there were way too many stairs, but we still managed to find quite a bit to see and do.

The gardens of Schwanberg Castle.

The gardens surrounding the castle are easily accessible with a pram and quite pretty. They were built up from 1919-1921 in the classical baroque and English landscape garden style. We had a nice day to explore that was warm but not stifling hot, which would prove to be a lifesaver later on (I’ll get to that in a bit!)

In addition to the castle gardens, there are 32 acres around the Schwanberg to explore. There are paths circling around the top of the hill, and you can pick which route you want to take.  We decided on the “frog” path, and all started off well. We had a relatively good dirt path for pushing the pram, and we figured that if it started off that way, it would most likely continue in that condition. Well, about 1/3 into the journey, we ran into a couple of guys who said something to the effect of, “Whoa, you’re brave to do this path with a pram!” The path had been pretty good thus far, but they explained that a little further up, things would get, um, more “rustic.” They recommended we turn around and head back, and in retrospect, that probably would have been the better decision. But we trudged on, and a little further up came to this:

Hmmm…not looking so good for a pram at this point!

I held onto the GABOJ, and the Mr. somehow managed to push/drag the pram over the ravine without losing it over the edge. It didn’t get much better from there. The path turned twisty and winding, up and down hill, with lots of tree stumps thrown in to make it extra interesting. We were a bit surprised that the path changed so much with no real warning, so those of you planning to do the frog path with a stroller, take heed. It’s not impossible, but it won’t be much fun.

Schwanberg outdoor cafe kiosk and seating.

After surviving our “little walk,” we decided we more than deserved a piece of cake and coffee. (Note that in German culture, pretty much anything you accomplish – like continuing to breathe – warrants cake and coffee 🙂 ) We grabbed a seat in the outdoor cafe and enjoyed the nice views.

The next little trip we took a few weekends later was to one of our favorite spots for lunch, Vogelsburg, followed by a trip to Marktbreit.

Vogelsburg restaurant

Vogelsburg is yet another hill with a nice outlook. (Are you detecting a pattern, yet, in where we enjoy going?) We often head here when we have a car on a weekend if we don’t have any specific plans and would just like to enjoy a nice meal. The food is very good, not too expensive, and the views down onto the Main River are beautiful, particularly if you sit outside and snag a table right against the wall. On the afternoon we went for lunch, it was too hot to sit against the wall in the sunshine, so we enjoyed our lunch in the shade. Though it was a warm day, sitting in the shade with the breeze was just about perfect. We finally forced ourselves to leave and head on towards our next and final stop, Marktbreit.

Markbreit

Marktbreit is a picturesque little town situated at the most southern point of the Main River. It’s a bit of a special place for us as we had rented a car on the weekend that the GABOJ ended up arriving, and during the evening before I went into labor we decided to have dinner in Marktbreit and check it out as we had never been before. Little did we know it would be the last place we’d visit before our little guy arrived. We went to the Restaurant Schloss Markbreit, and I remember that we were just about the only people in the place, and we grabbed a newspaper and were reading it as we waited for our food to arrive. I was struck by the notion that it might be one of the last quiet meals we would have, just the two of us, for a very long time. Anyway, we decided to head back and check it out a little more in summer weather (and me not heavily pregnant), and this time with the GABOJ in tow more comfortably in the pram.

It had ended up being a really hot day, so we just wandered a bit into the center of town before we found the Restaurant Schloss Marktbreit again. We had noticed the first time we were there that they had amazing looking cakes, so we came back excited to try something on offer. It was really tough to decide, but I ended up going for a cherry cake (almost like cherry pie), with a scoop of ice cream. Asking for ice cream with your cake isn’t really the norm in Germany, but it was so hot that something cold to go with it sounded good.  (And it’s sort of tricky to find iced coffee here, as a side note. I’ve finally found two coffee places in Würzburg that offer it, but it might just be a seasonal thing for summertime.)  Anyway, we were enjoying our cake and coffee when two ladies seated next to us began to chat to us about the GABOJ. Then, it wasn’t long before a friendly cross-dressing man in a lovely skirt from The Netherlands began chatting to us and asked to join our table. Our afternoon had taken a pretty unexpected (but interesting!) turn. Bavaria isn’t exactly a hotbed of diversity, especially in the smaller towns and villages, so it was great to see someone who clearly stood out embracing who he is and not being in any way ashamed by it.

All in all, it was a great day out, and definitely suited our little guy.

Happy GABOJ

Ausflüge im Franken

Prichsenstadt

The Mr. and I have been on a bit of car renting binge lately. There have been some things we’ve needed to shop for, but also it’s just been nice to get out of Würzburg and see something new. Winter seemed to never end this year, followed by a cold and wet spring, and we were even more housebound than usual caring for the GABOJ in the months after his birth. So now that I’m well again, and we’re finding our new groove traveling with the GABOJ, it’s been fun to get out and about.

They know how to do signs right in Germany.

A few weeks ago, we rented a car and headed out one afternoon with no concrete plans other than a general area we wanted to explore. We first stopped in the small but picturesque village of Prichsenstadt. (You can check out their Wikipedia page here, though it’s all in German.) We parked the car and wandered around the main street, looking for a cafe so we could have some cake and coffee. We only saw one actual cafe, and it was pretty packed. We wanted to sit outside as it was a nice day, but the cafe’s spots outside were all taken. So we ended up wandering to the “Zum goldenen Adler” hotel and restaurant. They only had one option for cake, a crumble peach cheesecake; but boy, was it good. One could wander pretty much all of Prichsenstadt in much less than an hour, and apart from the main road through town there isn’t a whole lot to see, but it is a cute place and that cake would make a second visit well worth the drive.

Voted prettiest “wine view” in Franken in 2012.

From Prichsenstadt, we headed towards the town of Castell. We drove past Castell, up the hill near to it, and discovered by chance some really nice vineyards with gorgous views. We were excited to read a sign that had been erected that read, “Prettiest wine view in Franken, 2012” and felt like we had sort of hit the random day trip jackpot.

The entrance to Kreuzberg Monastery…and a beer garden!

A few weekends later we did a day trip to Kreuzberg Monastery. Situated near the top of Kreuzberg mountain (3,045 ft high), the monastery still draws pilgrims and houses monks. But religion isn’t the only reason the hordes flock to Kreuzberg…they brew their own beer! Yes, what would any monastery be without its own brewery? (Probably thirsty.) According to Wikipedia, the beer was was brewed on site by the monks until about 1992, and is today brewed by laypersons under the supervision of the monks. Three different beers (Dunkel, Pilsner and Hefe-Weizen) are produced year-round, and a fourth (Weihnachts-Bock) is available during the Christmas season. I would like very much to taste their Weihnachts-Bock as I’m a big fan of bock beer in general, but we were also really impressed with the two bottles of pilsner we took home.

The path to the top of Kreuzberg Mountain.

The Mr. and I weren’t quite so prepared for just how crowded Kreuzberg Monastery would be, nor how touristy. A large beer garden serves, well, beer, but also traditional Franconian cuisine. Stalls are located around the grounds selling hats, flags and other souvenirs. A short walk away from the monastery, however, puts one back in touch with nature, and, if you choose the more roundabout route as we had to with a stroller, hardly any other people. We made our way up to the top of the Kreuzberg mountain, where we enjoyed the beautiful outlook onto the Rhön valley.

The New Rock Star in Town

I’m not sure whether this is a uniquely German phenomenon, or whether it would be true in other countries, as well, but having a small baby in Germany is a little bit like having your own rock star in the family.

You see, the Mr. and I have noticed that whenever the GABOJ comes out of his stroller in public, an audible wave of cooing and gooing over him begins. It happens a little less often when we’re in the city center, but if we’re in our neighborhood in the bakery, the grocery store or a restaurant, all we have to do to wow the crowd is whip our little guy out. And the patrons of the hotel we stayed at in Meersburg, the Terrassenhotel Weißhaar (“white hair), actually were mostly 60+ in age, so the GABOJ was the hit of the place. The morning waitress in the restaurant couldn’t get enough of him, and actually looked depressed one morning when the Mr. came down for breakfast on his own while the little guy and I slept in.

Families in Germany tend to be small, an average of 1.3 kids according to a quick Google search, so I guess that may have something to do with it. But the Mr. and I have found it so interesting that we now have a way to charm perfect strangers.

We’re a little biased, but we can see where they’re coming from. He is pretty darn cute.

View from our balcony at the Terrassanhotel Weißhaar

Last month, the Mr. and I embarked on our first little vacation with the GABOJ. Since our normal spring vacation wasn’t possible due to the GABOJ’s birth and my health problems that followed, we missed out on doing bigger trip this year. Still, after having been cooped up in the flat for so long, even a shorter trip for just a few nights over a long weekend sounded great.

We wanted to pick somewhere that would only mean a few hours of driving at most. We weren’t sure how well the GABOJ would take to his car seat for an extended trip, and it also sounded too tiring to try to go any further by car than 2 or 3 hours. So we decided on a trip to Lake Constance.

The town of Meersburg on Lake Constance

The Mr. had visited the area some years ago, but it was the first trip there for me. We stayed in the town of Meersburg, which looked really nice from the photos we saw online. We weren’t disappointed. Meersburg is a lovely, very atmospheric little town with a castle perched up high and a very strollable promenade along the harbor.

On the late afternoon that we arrived in town (because we didn’t even get out of the house until the afternoon!), we walked from our hotel high up on the hill on the edge of town down into the center. We had originally wanted to stay right in the heart of town on the lake, but had a tough time finding any last-minute vacancies as we put off booking anything until we were fairly certain the trip would be able to go ahead as planned. We ended up liking the Terrassanhotel Weißhaar (“white hair) as it was quiet, and the restaurant boasted fantastic views out towards the lake, but we were on the third floor and that meant a lot of trips up and down the stairs with all of our stuff and no elevator.

The promenade in Meersburg

Some rained moved in that evening and then cleared up, creating some really dramatic lighting on the promenade as we ate dinner.

The next day, sadly, the rain had moved back in. We decided (perhaps foolishly, given the weather) to check out a lake dwelling museum about a twenty-minute drive away from Meersburg. I had always dreamed of visiting this place when I lived in Scotland, but it never happened. So I was super pumped to find out that a similar museum was at Lake Constance, and only a short drive away from where we were staying.

The lake dwelling museum at Unteruhldingen

The museum was really interesting. Over 100 lake dwelling villages were discovered in Lake Constance, and from these, the late Bronze Age village of Unteruhldingen was reconstructed into the lake dwelling museum. After a short introduction to the site in German, you were free to wander around the site. Some buildings were kept locked and only opened up when a member of staff was available. They demonstrated how objects were used, or talked about the living conditions on the lake. Most of the signage was in German (as well, of course, any presentations from the staff) but I was pleased to find some information on some signs in English, as well. There was actually quite a bit to see and read, but the weather was absolutely dismal (cold and wet – a real “Scottish” day!) and we had the GABOJ with us, so we only spent a couple of hours at the site. Towards the end of our visit the sun did start to make an appearance, but we were cold and wet and getting hungry.

The Mainau “flower” Island

The next day we took a ferry over to the Mainau Island, a privately owned island that has been turned into a garden paradise tourist attraction known as the “flower island.” Again, our day started off gray and chilly, and I was a bit bummed that we didn’t have nicer conditions for me to get better shots of the gorgeous flowers covering the island from top to bottom. As the day wore on, however, we got lucky and ended up having some glorious sunshine that really brought the flowers to life.

Überlingen

On our last day at Lake Constance, we spent a little more time in Meersburg in the morning before we packed up and made a final stop in the town of Überlingen on our way home. After finding parking, we made our was to the harbor area and discovered another lovely promenade where we managed to find a spot for a late lunch.

All in all, although we found traveling with the GABOJ in tow far more tiring than a vacation used to be, we felt like the trip was a success and enjoyed our time away. We learned some important things, too. Like an elevator, if at all possible, is a great idea, but having to get to breakfast at a certain time looking relatively decent is not so much if you’re tired and actually want to sleep in a bit. We’re thinking of perhaps doing a bigger trip somewhere later this summer, so if that happens, I think we now have a bit more confidence that we’ll survive it and might actually have fun 😉

Looking down from the castle gardens in Meersburg

Würzburg im Frühling

After a seemingly unending winter that was very cold and snowy, spring weather is starting to make an appearance in Würzburg. Pretty much every season is this little Bavarian city is pretty, but during the spring the gardens of the Würzburg Residence really shine.

It’s Getting Better All the Time

Hi, Blog. It’s been a while. Part of that was down to a new baby taking up lots of time and energy, but unfortunately it was mostly due to how unwell I was for the GABOJ’S first couple months of life.

I never really imagined myself writing about a topic like this on a blog that is mostly about our trips and travels and cultural experiences here in Germany, but here it is: breastfeeding. This is, after all, my blog and I can write about what I want to write about.  And frankly, breastfeeding, or rather all of the health problems it caused me over these past couple of months, has been the issue that took over my life for quite a while. So if this isn’t a topic of interest, you’ve been warned.

Let’s start at the beginning. I decided I would breastfeed our baby. It was a pretty straightforward choice as it is drilled into every new mother’s head from the moment she’s learned that she’s pregnant that breastmilk is best for the baby. I knew there might be some challenges, and I was expecting the usual relatively minor problems most new breastfeeding moms have to deal with. What I was not counting on, or even had any idea such problems existed, was a breast infection that landed me in the hospital for two days followed by an abscess. Yikes.

Things started off mostly okay. It was a little uncomfortable latching the baby on, and I found it pretty exhausting to have to do that every 2 to 3 hours, but his latch was pretty good and it was going okay. One challenge was that our GABOJ was a really slow drinker. He liked to spend up to 45 minutes sometimes on one side, which in the middle of the night was particularly tiring. My midwife wondered if, even though I seemed to be producing enough milk for him to gain weight, whether it was taking him so long to drink because there wasn’t a lot of milk flowing fast. I never experienced any engorgement or leaking as most new mothers do, which was another cause for slight concern that maybe he was struggling to get enough. So we decided I would try a couple of different supplements to attempt to increase my supply.

The first was called galaga. I took a dose of it while I was waiting on a bottle of bockshornklee, or fenugreek as it is known in English, to arrive in the post. It arrived shortly after I had taken the galaga, and I took only two pills that day when engorgement set in. It was three weeks after the little guy had been born. My midwife was really surprised as she had never seen a woman’s milk “come in” three weeks post-birth, but we after some time we figured out that was what was happening. I thought I was going to be lucky and dodge that particular breastfeeding problem along with leaking, but I guess the supplements had worked a little too well.

After a few days, the engorgement and accompanying discomfort cleared up and I hoped we were on our way to shorter feeds and breastfeeding working more smoothly. I was also getting a little better at positioning him comfortably, though honestly that is still a struggle sometimes even now as I find breastfeeding pillows with their shifting contents a bit challenging to manuver. (The My Breast Friend pillow is easier to use, so I’d recommend that, although the Mr. thinks the glue they’ve used for the pillow smells toxic.) Anyway, at some point one morning when the GABOJ was having a hard time latching on (he was often fussy in the mornings), he bit me on the left side. That side became sore, and continued to be sore over the next week or two. Then the real fun began.

I had never before heard the term “plugged” or “clogged duct” before I was right in the thick of breastfeeding. A plugged duct is an area of the breast where milk flow is obstructed. What this means is usually developing a hard, painful lump in the breast that hurts badly before and during nursing, and then hurts a bit less afterwards. Most plugged ducts resolve within 24-48 hours. The recommendations to help clear it are using moist, warm compresses before nursing, nursing frequently, and trying to nurse the baby so that his or her chin points towards the blockage. When I developed my plugged duct on the left side, I did all of these things aggressively to try and get it to clear up. The problem was that it would get better after a couple of days, I would think it was gone, and then BAM!, back again. I tried the above in addition to finally renting a hospital-grade electric pump in an attempt to get the plug out. This went on for TWO WEEKS before I finally started developing the symptoms of mastitis. Oh, you didn’t know that a plugged duct was only the pre-party fun? Yep, mastitis is the full-blown event.

So after the plugged duct haunting me for two weeks, I finally woke up one Sunday morning to find myself in quite a bit of pain and with a lovely red streak starting to develop on that breast. I was also feeling pretty worn out and run down, which was a bad sign as mastitis hits you like the flu. I called my midwife and she said I should head to the Missio where we had the GABOJ so they could examine me. While we were waiting for a doctor, the GABOJ got hungry, and I had to most reluctantly latch him on. The pain, when you are breastfeeding during mastitis, is pretty incredible. I had tears just streaming down my face from the agony, while patients and visitors were walking past us staring at me while I was feeding him. Some looked at me very sympathetically. A quick visual scan confirmed by a blood test proved positive for mastitis. I was told that I didn’t have to stay in the hospital as they couldn’t force me, but the doctor highly recommended for me to admit myself and begin receiving antibiotics intraveinously as it would help me recover faster. I was in so much pain, I didn’t hesitate in saying that I would stay.

This time, the Mr. ordered a bed next to me and “admitted” himself as well. I knew I would need his help taking care of the baby, and also to help position him for feedings as I was exhausted, in pain, and had an IV in my hand. The GABOJ was back in one of the baby beds attached to mine like he had used when he was first born. Still, even with the Mr. right next to me almost the entire time, those two days were really rough for all of us. A hospital is never a great place to be as it is so noisy and disruptive (even with your own room), let alone when you are actually unwell on top of it all. The two good things, however, were that firstly we had a better experience with the staff this time around. It seemed like the nurses on duty had more time, and were more empathetic in general to what I was going through (though we still had to be very assertive about asking for pain medication. It still wasn’t stronger than paracetamol or ibuprofen, and I still wasn’t offered even that regularly, but at least this time we understood better that we had to be proactive in asking for it.)  It was interesting because I was in a ward that was technically separate from but right across the hall from the post-natal ward, so we saw some of the nurses that had cared for me initially. They were all amazed at how much the little guy had grown and changed. The other good thing was the food. Seriously. The food at the Missio is pretty darn good in general, but when you combine that with exhausted new parents who haven’t had much time or energy to cook anything good, it was like heaven being served up on a plate at each mealtime. Well, that might be a bit of an overstatement….when my mother-in-law came to help us out for a few days after we came home from the hospital with the baby, now THAT was heaven served up on plate. That woman can cook! Anyway, by the time we left the hospital, I was a bit better but still really weak, and the lump was still there. I had to go a few days later for a check-up, and I began to become concerned that the lump wasn’t disappearing even after I had started taking the antibiotics and was doing my best to drain that breast. The doctors also found it a little concerning, and the following week they did an ultrasound and discovered an abscess. The doctor tried to drain it with a needle. She numbed it first, but even then I had some sensation and it was uncomfortable. She wasn’t very successful in getting much fluid out as it had thickened, and told me I needed to come back in three days’ time so she could try a bigger needle. Yippee.

Now I don’t want to frighten you, dear reader, particularly if you are a woman of child-bearing age who plans to have a baby someday that you want to breastfeed. But if you google “abscess” and “surgery,” prepare to soil yourself. Once my abscess was discovered, I started to go into panic mode thinking I might have to have the surgery I had read about. And while they knock you out for it, of course, the real kicker is that (if you don’t want to look this up yourself) they leave it as an open wound so that you have dressings you have to change every day (which is apparently pretty awful) as you are leaking blood, pus and milk on a regular basis. I love the internet, but seriously, in some situations it’s better to just turn off the computer and not have so much information at one’s fingertips.

Those next three days were spent doing a lot of worrying. When I showed up for my next appointment, the head doctor (the one who had tried to unsuccessfully suction out the GABOJ) examined me and he said that it appeared to be healing and we were better off to just leave it alone (God bless that man). I was so relieved to hear that not only would I not have to be jabbed with a bigger needle that day, but they wouldn’t do anything to it anymore. So no surgery. I also spoke with a lactation consultant I had worked with a couple of times before, and she also said that eventually the lump would turn into a chalk-like substance and my body would slowly absorb it. She said it could take months, maybe even years, or I might even have the lump the rest of my life, but that it wasn’t dangerous and I shouldn’t need surgery.

While I was in the hospital with mastitis, I had come to the decision to wean the GABOJ. It was a hard choice to make, and there were lots of tears, but in the end it was also a relief to just say “enough” and to make that decision to move on. I had had such a difficult time over the first two months’ of our baby’s life, and I was so tired of being unwell and unable to be the mother that I had envisioned for him. All of my time and energy was so focused on me and my problems, and I was sinking into a real depression. So I began to slowly wean the little guy. I didn’t want to go too fast for fear of causing myself more problems, so over the course of the next few weeks I began to reduce pumping and latching time. At the beginning I had a couple of scary lumps that were painful on the right side, but thankfully, the little guy was able to clear them up both times very quickly.

I’m now at a place where my left side is pretty much dried up. I could have dried up my right side by now, too, but since my milk production has been so dramatically reduced on the right side I’ve stopped having any problems with painful lumps and I’m latching the little guy on that side once every night. It’s going so well that I might continue to do this for quite some time as it means he’s still receiving a little bit of breastmilk, even if it’s just a small amount. I had the goal of giving him breastmilk for the first six months of his life, and although it’s much less than I originally intended, I’m proud of myself that I might actually still reach that goal.

Breast is best, and I would never try to dissuade any new mother from trying to breastfeed. Most women have only minor problems when they breastfeed, and some (like my mom) are lucky and have practically none. But I have to say that for me, formula has made all the difference to not only how I feel physically, but mentally, too. Over the past few weeks since I started weaning, things have gotten so much better. I no longer have constant health problems, worries, and I’m finally able to enjoy my little guy and being a mom to him.

C-Section Recovery in a “Baby-Friendly” German Hospital: My Experience

It’s taken me quite some time to write this, but the following is my account (as best as I remember it) of my c-section recovery in the Missionsärztliche Klinik in Würzburg. I’ll pick up where I left off from my birth story in this previous post.

After I nursed the little guy for the first time down in the labor ward, the Mr. was told he could go ahead and head up to my room and take our things. We had decided in advance that the Mr. wouldn’t be spending the nights in the hospital with me. When we initially made that decision, we thought it made the most sense given that he had chosen to continue working after our GABOJ was born. (All working parents in Germany are offered something called “Elternzeit,” which means “parent time.” You do receive 2\3 of your salary if you choose to take it, but only up to 1,800 Euros per month. The Mr. could have taken this, but in our case, with the relative flexibility of his work, we decided it made more sense for him to continue working normally.) At any rate, it was a decision that we would sort of come to regret as the Mr. ended up needing to be with me in the room caring for both me and the baby far more than we had originally anticipated, spending most nights with us anyways.

As I was wheeled up to my room with the little guy on my chest, I remember the midwife apologizing to me about the bumps in the floor along the way. I laughed and told her that feeling a few bumps were nothing compared to labor pains! In my room, the next few hours were a haze as I was still drowsy from the surgery and exhausted. But I guess with all the hormones coursing through my body combined with the adrenaline of what had just taken place, sleep was hard to find. It didn’t help that our GABOJ was vomiting up amniotic fluid periodically as he lay in his bed next to me.  The nurses assured me that this is common with c-section babies and that he would be fine and it wasn’t dangerous, but good luck convincing an already keyed-up new mother that her newborn baby vomiting and making choking sounds next to her isn’t any cause for concern. Plus all of his little sounds and cries immediately had me on alert. So thus began a period of several days of practically no sleep, and unfortunately, a lot of pain. I’ll explain.

It all began with me not being able to sleep. The Missio is a “baby-friendly” clinic, which means, in part, that the babies room-in with their mothers. While I’m not sure if this is true of all “baby-friendly” hospitals in Germany, at the Missio this also meant that they had no nursery where a baby could be taken even for a short time. While I think the idea of rooming-in is great, the reality for me was that it ended up making my recovery so much harder as I had such a difficult time sleeping with our GABOJ next to me. I simply couldn’t get any real sleep (especially in the first couple of days). We were told that if a mother was absolutely desperate, a night nurse might be able to take the baby for a couple of hours in the night while she is making the rounds and caring for patients. I think that essentially meant she would be carrying our baby around while doing her normal duties. It was made pretty clear to us that asking for someone to do this would be a burden on the staff, so it should only be requested in a real emergency. And it didn’t really sound like something we’d be comfortable with anyway. So while rooming-in probably does work out well for most women, it seems crazy to me that there is nothing in place to help moms who have had surgery and need more rest, or even women who have had a normal vaginal birth but just need a short break away from the baby for a couple of hours to get better quality sleep.

And then pain became the main problem. The first day after surgery I was exhausted, but I at least had plenty of pain medication. Although I wasn’t getting much sleep because of having the baby next to me and needing to feed him every 2-to-3 hours, I was able to rest somewhat in between feedings. But by the next day, on Wednesday, they began to reduce my pain meds. I remember at one point feeling pretty awful, and looking over at the empty IV drip and wondering what they were giving me if it was empty. Thus began the eternal struggle of the next few days: the nurses offering me little to no medication to control my pain. I had to continuously ask for something, as it was rarely offered. And what they did give me (once they took away my IV meds) was over-the-counter strength ibuprofen and paracetamol. What we began to slowly figure out (as I was constantly in tears as I was in so much discomfort) is that the philosophy of the hospital seems to be that they don’t want to give you anything strong, and they won’t even offer that freely; you have to ask for it. I, of course, had no idea they wouldn’t just bring me pain medication on a regular basis, so I’d be miserable by the time I’d ask for something. And unfortunately it wasn’t just pain medication that you had to have the initiative to ask for; it was anything that might possibly help you.

Because of the general anaesthesia, I ended up with phlegm in my lungs that made it difficult for me to lie down without feeling like I was choking. Just as I would start to drift off to sleep, I would wake abruptly and need to cough as I was starting to choke. It meant that I essentially had to try to sleep upright. I choked less in this position, but never lying flat (or even close to flat) became increasingly uncomfortable over time, and ended up causing me horrible back pain. I told the nurses time and time again that it was actually my back pain that had become so unbearable, but still, with surgery pains and severe back pain on top of that, nothing except ibuprofen or paracetamol was ever offered to me. (They did give some sort of tablet to help me sleep a couple of times, but it wasn’t very strong as I never felt groggy from it). We asked once if there was any kind of ointment that could be applied to my chest or back to help me breathe better and relax my muscles, and one nurse said, yes, that they had something, but it “might interfere with breastfeeding so we have to be careful.” And that was the end of the conversation. A few hours later, it took another breakdown of me in tears at 3am because I was so miserable, and us practically demanding that they give it to me, before I finally got any relief. It was essentially the equivalent of Icy Hot. The nurse applied it to my back, and I was finally able to sleep for a couple of hours for the first time in days. Why in the world it took a breakdown and me practically begging at 3am for some Icy Hot to be applied to my back is one of the many mysteries of my hospital stay that I am left to ponder. The Mr. the next day also came up with the idea of a hot water bottle to help relax my muscles. Again, you would think one of the many nurses caring for me might have suggested this medication-free natural therapy for tense muscles, but nope – it was up to us to find solutions. On the day before I left the hospital, I was finally offered a hot mud treatment called Fango for my back. It was shaped like a heating pad and it was placed in my bed for me to lay on for a half hour, and it helped, too. I would have liked to have had it on Saturday, as well, the morning of the day we left the hospital as I still had very intense back pain, but apparently they don’t offer those kinds of treatments on the weekends (I love this. It’s like you’re in the hospital on vacation or something, so better not have any serious back pain that falls over the weekend!)

We finally left the hospital after five nights on Saturday afternoon. Thank God our private insurance meant I had my own room during the entire stay. I can’t even imagine how much more miserable it all would have been had I had to share my room with another woman and her baby. It also would have been mortifying as the only thing I was dressed in post-surgery was an elastic band around my breasts and mesh, see-through underwear. No hospital gown at all, and I was far too weak and miserable to even contemplate putting on one of my nightgowns or some of my own clothing I had brought along (and none of the nursing staff ever suggested it, or offered to fetch it for me and help me get dressed). For days I had to shuffle back and forth to the bathroom essentially naked as it wasn’t until towards the end of my stay that I had enough strength to put on some of my clothing. To some extent, I had stopped caring and had lost all modesty after everything I had been through, but it’s yet another mystery to me why the hospital wouldn’t have at least put me in a hospital-issued gown post-surgery.

After this difficult c-section recovery, I seriously don’t know whether I could ever go through that experience again. The two things that would have to absolutely change would be the strength and frequency of painkillers given to me in those first few days, and I would probably also need to be able to hand over the baby periodically so I could rest better. I’ve spoken with an American friend about her c-section recovery experience, and it was so different to mine. Firstly, her hospital had a nursery, so she had the baby taken there a couple of times so she could rest. And secondly, the nursing staff at her hospital told her how important it was for her take pain medication and to take it regularly, and she was definitely given perscription-strength pain medication during her hospital stay (and she’s a breastfeeding mom, too.)  I also learned from watching videos and reading information about c-sections in that US that many women (even those who breastfeed) continue to take prescription-strength painkillers for up to a week or so after they leave the hospital. I wouldn’t have needed something that strong for that long, but certainly I could benefited from something stronger while I was still in the hospital. I think had I been in less pain, I possibly would have slept better and felt more relaxed, helping to speed along my recovery. I don’t have a particularly high pain threshold, but I’m also not the sort of person to pop a pill for every little ache and pain and problem that I might have. I didn’t take pain medication a single time during my entire pregnancy. And I’m actually very open to the idea of homeopathic treatment (which is popular here in Germany), but if homeopathic treatments aren’t sufficiently treating the problem, I’m of the opinion that it’s time to move on to real medication.

In addition to a difference in philosophy to pain medication, this particular hospital doesn’t care for c-section patients very often. The c-section rate at the Missio is a low 20% or so, I think. And I’m sure only a very small percentage of the 20% has had general anaesthesia. Perhaps treating fewer women who have had surgery makes a difference in the understanding and attitude of the nursing staff. A few were consistently kind and patient, others were more abrupt and almost impatient with me towards the end. I was, admittedly, no doubt a more needy patient than most with all of the problems I was having (and I understand that this can stress already overworked staff), but I was always polite, of course, even when I was miserable. The Mr. told me that apparently one of the nurses told his sister that they thought I was more focused on myself than bonding with our baby and she feared that I might “reject” him. That really hurt, and what it says to me is that this woman had no idea the amount of pain and discomfort I was in, and how impossible it is to concentrate on anything other than pain when you’re in the midst of it. I was sad and frustrated because what I wanted more than anything was to stop focusing on me, and to be able to hold my baby and care for him and bond with him like any other new mother.

Despite the above criticism, I do have to praise the staff that they were always helpful with breastfeeding. They were good about instructing me how to get him to latch properly, and were always willingly ready to help position him and answer any questions I might have. That’s one area where the Missio hospital really does shine.

I’ve had several people ask me about my experience in the Missio, and whether I would recommend it as a hospital to give birth in. I’d say that if all goes according to plan and you have a normal vaginal birth with few or no complications, I think you would possibly have a very positive experience there. I have friends here in Würzburg who had just that, and were, on the whole, pleased with their experience. But for us, before we have baby no. 2 (and particularly if I were to have another c-section), we will most definitely be looking into the other hospital in town, the Universitätsklinikum Würzburg.

I’ve wanted to post before now, but it’s crazy how little time one has with a newborn at home. And given that we don’t have any other children, I can’t even imagine how people who have a baby with a toddler at home do it! I am in awe of you all.

On Monday, it will be four weeks since our GABOJ was born. This last month hasn’t been an easy one. Both my recovery after the c-section and breastfeeding have both been a lot harder than I had hoped. I feel like we’re slowly moving in the right direction and things are starting to fall into place, but there are still plenty of moments that feel overwhelming and exhausting. For example, I feel like I have the motherly instinct to love and nurture, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into practical skills like knowing how best to soothe a fussy baby or being able to juggle holding him and doing something else at the same time. Heck, I don’t even have the upper-body strength yet to hold him for any real length of time!

Anyway, I still plan to write about my recovery in a German hospital, but in the meantime, I thought I’d post some photos taken two weeks ago of the little guy’s first trip into town with us. It was a short trip as I was still fairly weak from my surgery, and I also don’t feel comfortable nursing him in public yet. It’s not really about embarrassment, but more the practicalities of managing to do it with a tiny infant and no breastfeeding support pillows. So basically, at the moment, my trips out of the house are limited to no more than 3 hours. But short trips into town are still good training exercises for us as we learn to navigate getting around with an infant.

We first grabbed a bus into the town center.

In general, he seems to really enjoy being in his pram. He usually looks around quite a bit, and then drifts off to sleep. And we love the stroller we picked out for him. The Brio Go is so easy to manoeuver, has tons of shopping space at the bottom, and is stylish as well.

Once we arrived, we had a coffee and cake in a bakery and then walked just next door a little bit into the Juliusspital “Fürstenbau” courtyard. The Fürstenbau is a palatial building built in the Barock style with historical cellar vaults, a garden pavilion and the fountain statues of Jacob van der Auvera.

Afterwards, we went into the nearby organic market and did some shopping. All in all, we were probably only in town for two hours, but it was a nice trial run. One valuable lesson we learned? Trying to take the bus home at 6pm on a Saturday is potentially disastrous with a pram. We got lucky in that we got on at a stop early enough on the route out of town and found a spot for our stroller, but the bus was packed and there were other people with prams who wanted to get on at later stops and struggled to find space. I’m hoping at some point soon to get the hang of wearing the little guy in a carrier, and I figure that might make short trips into town during busy times (when we don’t do too much shopping) a little easier.