So long, Farewell, Aufwiedersehen dear Munich (Part 1)
When we told our friends in Munich that we were moving back to France, most of them were sad, but not surprised.
We first moved to Germany in 2014, when I was offered an internship in an advertising agency. It was supposed to be a six-month adventure - maybe a year at most. But the internship turned into a job, and six months turned into nine years. For most of that time, I was thrilled to call Munich our home. When we would travel, we’d often think to ourselves “this is nice, but it isn’t Munich”. The city’s infrastructure, the cleanliness, and even the (often cold) politeness of the Germans appealed to us tremendously. You see, we’d moved to Munich from Paris, which is a beautiful but chaotic, dirty, and frankly rude city. Parisians have a reputation of being rude, and you may become rude too after you’ve lived there for some time. I wasn’t a fan of the person I was becoming. As a student, and as I started off my career in advertising, I loved saying that I lived in Paris, but I’m not sure I loved living there. I only realized this after our move.
Munich felt like the best kept secret. We’d been there before for Oktoberfest (naturally) and I remember thinking that it was a great place to visit, but I couldn’t picture myself living there. So imagine how joyously wrong I discovered myself to be when the internship opportunity occurred, and with it a whole new perspective on what living in Munich was really like. History gives the city a heavy bad rap, and rightfully so, but modern day Germany was the most accommodating experience I’d had in my then six years as an expat. My German colleagues were fun and made me feel instantly welcome, even if my level of German was basic. I know this isn’t everyone’s experience of Germany, or specifically Bavaria, but I was fortunate in that sense. Even after I left the agency and switched careers, I still felt welcome. With time came two kids, and Munich remained unbeatable in its quality of life for our young family of four.
So why move?
Well, for one there is a difference between feeling welcome and belonging. We felt welcome, even though we never quite belonged. This is on us, as I believe we’d always had the lingering sense that we wouldn’t be there forever.
I couldn’t see myself retiring in Munich.
YY and I grew up by the ocean and although the Isar is great, we missed the salty water.
When our kids were born, we realized that as long we lived in Germany we would be raising them in an environment completely different and foreign from our own. We didn’t master the language. We appreciated, but didn’t quite follow German traditions. Even the food felt like an adaptation. We were grateful for experiencing all of it, but when it came to our kids, what did we actually want to pass on? How could a Brazilian from a Catholic family and a French-American Jew find common ground when raising two kids in Germany?
We started asking ourselves whether we were up to the challenge of raising two little foreigners in a foreign country that would never be ours, or their own. We wondered whether we were up to the challenge of long winters and months of overcast weather, when we’d both been raised near the ocean in hot (Rio) and moderate (California) climates. Were we also up to the challenge of raising our kids far from our families? For the past six years we went back-and-forth on this decision, hesitating between California and France as potential places for us to settle down. Every winter we would think “this is the year we’re moving!” and then when summer rolled around we would inevitably backtrack. “Maybe next year”, we’d decide. Neither of us grew up with real seasons and the timeliness of the changes in southern Germany captivated us year after year. You could expect flowers to bloom in April, and leaves to start falling by the end of September. You could also expect a good amount of snow in January, and a fun time by the lakes and the Isar in the longer summer nights from June onwards. The predictability of the seasons cast somewhat of a spell on us.
That being said, after almost two years of living under Covid restrictions, I craved support. We made it through the pandemic aged and exhausted, like most of the world, but also with some clarity regarding our need for a support system for us and the kids. Furthermore, I also craved roots. I wanted to settle down in a place where I could envision the next step in my career without having to worry about belonging, or rather whether my kids felt like they belonged. We knew that this level of stability wasn’t a reality for us in Germany. There was a glass ceiling after all, and we’d reached it. It was time to move on.
To be continued.
Have you had a similar experience as an expat? Did you also feel like there’s a difference between feeling welcome versus belonging?
To anyone I've wronged this year
I’m sorry, and thank you for your patience.
As 2018 comes to an end (or any year for that matter), like most other people, I start reflecting about things I’ve done, and things I wish I’d done.
I wish, for example, I’d texted my friend when I randomly thought of her on my way to pick up S. It’s the kind of thing I’ll note on my ever fleeting and flawed mental to-do list, never to be remembered again. And I’ve come to realize that I do that a lot.
I got plenty of tracking methods (hello, beloved bullet journal) and I have a hard time blaming these mishaps on “new mom brain” and/or “pregnancy brain”, even though these are 100% real. I’ll forget what I’ve had for breakfast, fine, but surely I could write down when I mean to reach out to someone.
So this goes out to those whom I meant to send a thank you card. I truly appreciate having you in my life.
To those whose birthday I remembered a few days too late (and didn’t dare sending the dreadfully awkward “happy belated birthday!” message). I hope you had a nice, special day.
To those who didn’t hear from me for months. I’m alive and well, how are you?
To those whose messages went embarrassingly unanswered. I’m afraid I’ll never get to them, I’m sorry.
To those whom I’ve promised to send a link to that thing I got on Amazon, but then almost immediately forgot all about it. I swear it’s not personal, please send me a reminder.
To those with whom I made plans to grab a coffee, and never ever did. I honestly think we still should.
To those I’ve unwittingly offended. I really didn’t mean to.
To those who went through difficult times and could’ve used a “hi, how are you?”. I see you and I promise I’m here for you.
To those whose special events came and went without a “congrats” on my part. I wish I had celebrated with you.
Rest assured, I’ve thought of you. All of you. I think about you constantly.
My sincere apologies for not being the best of friends, or relative, or acquaintance when it comes to reaching out.
I’m making this a resolution for 2019 - to reach out more. May this be my first step.
Interview with Yann-Yves
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I have only been able to bloom into the role of mother as I have thanks to my husband Yann-Yves. His unyielding support allowed me to have the breathing room necessary to appreciate motherhood, instead of potentially resenting it.* I cannot imagine how single parents (or people with absent partners) manage to keep their sanity in check, and while they have all of my respect, I’m thankful for each and every day in which I can count on Yann-Yves’ presence.
*Resenting motherhood is a somewhat taboo subject that does not get discussed nearly enough. It is real and scary. If you find yourself in that position, know that you are not the only one, and by all means seek help.
Since creating this blog I have exposed all sorts of topics which have become important to me. This process allows me to vent and to digest my experience while hopefully helping you process yours too. It also helps me to know that I am not alone, and neither are you. There is no shortage of women online who, like me, have found in blogs and/or social media the means to express themselves in this new role. Fathers? Not so much. Sure, there are a few out there, but overall men still feel vulnerable when exposing their opinions about fatherhood, their experience, their hardships.
This is why I decided to interview Yann-Yves. I wanted to know more about how this transition felt from his perspective. We know each other very well, but even in our open-minded household his fatherhood does not get discussed nearly as often as my motherhood. I suspect this is the case for others too.
—-
AC: When I first found out I was pregnant I nearly had a heart attack. I was so afraid of your reaction. We had been together for 7 years, but married for less than 2 weeks, and you often said that you weren’t ready to become a father. Yet from that very first moment you reassured me that we’d be just fine. What went through your mind then?
YY: When you told me you were shaking, and you were obviously terrified. So I just focused on you, on our relationship, on how to make sure that everything was going to be ok. I told myself we’d figure it out no matter what. It was in the books in any case, we’d talked about having kids. I would’ve liked to be a bit more financially stable because I had just started my business a few months earlier, but I didn’t really think about what it meant at that moment. I just wanted to make sure that you were ok.
AC: How did you feel when you first held S? I personally expected more of an instant “I’m a mother now” feeling than I actually got at that moment. Was it as you’d pictured it?
YY: I think that fathers have a different relationship towards newborns than mothers do; the woman carries the baby for the whole pregnancy. For me, the moment I held him in my arms for the first time was a moment of realization: “It’s real, we created this small individual, I’m a father”. But the actual feeling of fatherhood only came later - it slowly seeped in as I progressed into the role.
AC: What were your pre-conceived ideas about fatherhood? How has this changed since actually becoming a father?
YY: I didn’t really have any pre-conceived ideas about being a father… For me the role didn’t come with a map, it came with a compass, as in I knew more or less the direction which I would like to take, but I was open to whatever the adventure was going to be. In the vision I had of fatherhood I was going to be a lot more present. Since S was born work has luckily picked up, which means that I am less present than I would like to be. I’m still finding my balance. But sometimes I hear remarks from people saying they’re impressed with how involved I am, since in Brazil for instance it’s not that common - and that reassures me.
AC: How do you think your own relationship with your father has affected the way that you now approach fatherhood?
YY: All in all I think it’s actually the reverse - my relationship with S has affected my relationship with my father. We’ve become a lot closer, because I understand him a lot better now. I have enormous love and respect for my father. He was always very close to us, and he was never afraid to show his feelings. I’ve seen my dad cry multiple times of joy or sadness. That’s something that I even kind of take for granted at times when I’m with S, because I talk to him a lot and show him how much I love him, which for me is kind of a given. But I know it’s not like that for everyone. Growing up, my dad would make sure we spent time together just him and I, and I have the fondest memories of going with him to the LA Auto Show for instance. It’s moments like that which I’m trying to carve out with S, and in the back of my head I have many plans for spending time just the two of us.
AC: What has been the most difficult aspect of fatherhood for you so far?
YY: I think it’s the guilt. You want to spend time together, but you must keep a balance between work and life. Sometimes I have to justify to myself that everything I’m doing work-wise is to provide for my family, but it’s hard keeping that balance. That’s what I struggle with most.
AC: And the most gratifying?
YY: Watching him progress. It’s crazy, time is flying so quickly. Also some of my favorite moments in the week is picking him up at daycare - he has this pure, blissful smile when he sees me, and there’s just nothing better than that.
AC: Have you ever wondered whether we are being selfish by having children, when the world seems to be about to self-destruct? “Yikes”, I know, but this is something I personally find myself unwillingly wondering at times.
YY: I used to think that in my 20s. But now I think I have a more positive vision of the world, even though I have my skeptical moments. There will always be something to be afraid of, to make you question your actions. I just want to raise our kids the best way we can, for them to be great individuals who hopefully will help make the world a better place. I think it would be irresponsible if we couldn’t provide for them, but that’s not the case. Someone once told me that having children is pure arrogance, it’s just an extension of your ego. But the reality is that they put you to the test - you develop patience you never had before, you develop empathy. You develop all these great things that the world needs more of. Every child is a gift.
AC: What is your biggest fear regarding our kids? For instance, do you fear the rise of antisemitism?
YY: Unfortunately when you’re Jewish antisemitism is a theme that comes up a lot. I spent my high school and junior high years in France, where there has been a steady rise of antisemitism. The populist climate in the world makes me a bit worried. It’s not just antisemitism - it’s racism, it’s homophobia, all these things. Hate in general. I want to believe that there’s good people everywhere and that we’ll make it through these hard times, but as a parent you fear for your children. As for my biggest fear I don’t know… There are so many of them.
AC: We both agree on not setting expectations for our children other than wishing they are happy and healthy - but I often “joke” that I just don’t want them to become conservative and/or intolerant. Is there something that would secretly bother you, or that you fear they might become?
YY: Given their roots - on my side Jewish, on your side you have a great grandmother who was born a slave - I would be disappointed if they turned out intolerant. There are certain values you and I share which I would like to pass on, and it would bother me if they didn’t pick up those values. I also don’t want them to be materialistic. I don’t know. There are times when I encounter people and whatever they’re doing bothers me, and I find myself wondering “what would I do if my son or my daughter did the same?”. Part of me thinks it could be an opportunity for growth, for discussion, maybe to see things differently. On the other side I think that a gap might open between us. And that would bother me the most.
Do you have any questions for Yann-Yves? He has agreed to answer them - just post in the comments!
Thank you
Yes, you.
As I slowly approach the end of my maternity leave, I have found myself more stressed out than what's already common for my anxious nature. At the source of my worry lies the tension between an urge to go back to work, and not being able to imagine anything more fulfilling than spending my days staring at my son's toothless smile. I find myself unable to live in the present with my baby boy, not only due to the anticipation of being apart from him, but also due to the need of stimuli other than motherhood. The conflict is constant and numbing.
Lately, I've been obsessing about the difference between "who I am" and "who I want to be" - so much that by the end of the day only a good ol' Netflix binge can distract my mind in time for bed. The following questions have been playing on loop in my over-stimulated, sleep deprived head: What am I creating for my boy? How, and for what, do I want him to remember me? How will my current career contribute to that?
It is hardly news that becoming a parent often makes one reconsider who they are and what they do (for a wage, for a hobby). For our *millennial* generation though, the possibilities feel positively endless. This knowledge infers that if you do not follow your passion, or love what you do, or find purpose in it, then your own professional and/or personal misery is entirely on you.
As I'm now able to check all standard boxes in my personal life (happily married, with kid), my focus has been shifting once again to my professional one. I've been watching more self-help TED talks than I'd like to admit, and one in particular caught my attention by focusing on 3 main questions to ask oneself when searching for an authentic career: What am I good at? What do people tell me I'm good at? What is holding me back? The answer to the latter being always, invariably, myself.
This brings me, at last, to the purpose of this text - which is to thank you.
A few weeks back, a good friend of mine with whom I hadn't spoken in a while reached out to me. She had started writing again, and wanted me to know that I had inspired her to do so. In my haze of self-doubt, it has often felt unlikely for me to find motivation within myself, let alone having enough to spare and topple onto others. "Having a kid and still finding the time to do what you like, it's remarkable", she said. She was referring to my blog, my writing, my personal posts which despite being somewhat rare these days, are definitely full of raw feelings and plain joy from the act of writing. I'm always so glad to hear that it shows. "Looking forward to reading your next post", she finished her text, and my day was made.
Her kindness pulled me a step closer to the track, and for this I thank her wholeheartedly. Every now and then I find motivation and focus in refreshingly unlikely sources. Every little feedback from friends (or friends of friends), i.e. people who took 5 minutes of their time to read some words I've sewn together, fills my heart and soul with purpose.
So thank you friend, acquaintance, stranger, for bringing me closer to clarity amidst the sea of dirty diapers and toothless smiles. I truly appreciate it.
Looking back, thinking forward, living now
Come this time every year, I can't help but join the masses in feeling more introspective than usual. I trick myself into believing that by 23:59 of the 31st, I must have worked out most of my flaws and past failures, acknowledged everything that I have to be grateful for, and be ready to face the new year with clear goals in mind and the resilience to accomplish them.
2017 has been a toughly joyful year. Or joyfully tough? It was the most sweet and sour year I've had in my life, though I know without the shadow of a doubt that its highlight (the birth of my son) outweighs any and all hardships I have faced.
*10*
This time last year, I was about 2 months pregnant. I was so happy, so grateful, so scared - I ached to tell people about my little bundle of joy, yet I wouldn't dare.
*9*
I rushed to write my resolutions, a little later than usual. I normally write them throughout the 31st or a couple of days before (for fear that a last minute event would force me to refocus my objectives for the following year), but last year I found myself hurrying through them in the last hour. "This time around, it doesn't matter", I thought, knowing I wouldn't look again at them past January 1st anyway. My number one aim was to become a mother.
*8*
...To become a mother while generally becoming a better person, too, of course. That's what resolutions are all about, in any case. I guess most of us strive to be a better version of ourselves in one way or another. Although it's exhausting, to be honest, having this insatiable urge to "become better".
*7*
Last year I aimed at becoming a mother while keeping my anxiety in check, being kinder, meditating, doing yoga, kicking ass at work, being there for my husband, keeping in touch with my family and friends, writing on a regular basis and working on my German.
*6*
Yet, that's not enough - is it ever? New Year's Eve is just as much an opportunity to start new, to refresh our resilience, to have hope and believe that this time around it'll be different, I will be different!... as it is the opportunity to remind oneself that there will always be, without a doubt, room for improvement.
*5*
I always opt to focus on the former option, for the sake of my own sanity and to cultivate some optimism. It's the very least I owe to my son. In a world where Trump is president, we could all use optimism.
*4*
This year, I must carry somewhat of a load with me past the last minute of 2017. As someone who craves organization, clear-cut ends/beginnings and is extremely structure-driven, this is has been hard for me to accept. I held on to the hope that it would be sorted until the last business day of the year, but it didn't really work that way. It's taken a bit away from my childish hope that things can change for the better, just like that, at the turn of the clock. I wish I could leave this load behind, but alas, it' beyond me. What's new on my new year's resolutions? Accept the things I can't control.
*3*
Yet! It's always at the very end of a countdown, once we're past introspection and hope and uncertainty and perhaps even regret that we say "SCREW IT! I'm gonna enjoy myself". For what matters in the end and should suffice beyond any other accomplishment is that we're here now. We're healthy, we're fed, we have a roof over our heads and we have each other. I could be a master-yogi-meditation-guru-badass-businesswoman-fierce-fearless-mother tomorrow, and perhaps I will. For now, however, being myself is plenty and anything else is honestly a generous bonus.
*2*
So come midnight I will put my load down, drink champagne, kiss my husband, hug my parents, embrace my son and truly hope. Hope for myself and for all of us that we can get past whatever let us down in the past, that we can get the renewal we want and deserve from turning the page into a new year, that we can focus on all that we have to look forward to, and that we can be grateful for what we already have. I'll hope - no, believe - that I have the resilience necessary to accomplish every single thing that I set out to do, including (but not limiting myself to) being the best mother I can be. I'll also believe that if these things aren't accomplished, I'll have the wisdom to be truly happy with what is already here.
*1*
We can always pick up our loads again tomorrow. For now, we drink, we sing, we dance, and we believe.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
