A resource to inspire, inform and empower parents.

Blood and All It’s Lessons

Apparently I require strong messages from the universe in order for things to sink into my stubborn brain. When I was pregnant with Jack I thought I was really pushing myself. I worked up until the day before I was hospitalized to be induced. I worked with abused and neglected teenagers at a residential facility. I continued to run groups, conduct sessions and hang out on the floor. I thought I was really Badass.


One day I became light-headed while at lunch from work with a coworker. I was scared. He was scared. I stepped outside. It didn’t stop. He drove me to emergency room. Long story short I was fine, the baby was fine, but I disclosed to the staff that I am an anxious person. I went on to talk about how I am always worried something is wrong and I can really whip myself into a frenzy. I said something about worrying being my life motto and the doctor said “time to get a new life motto.” And he was right. The next few months of my pregnancy were more peaceful. I tried to focus on enjoying the time and preparing for baby.


Last week I started spotting. I know that it is really important to consult with professionals who know your individual situation when something goes wrong. But instead of calling the midwife I consulted Google. So naturally I was convinced that I was dying. When I did make the call to the midwife (who knows me well as she is my primary caregiver in this pregnancy and has access to medical records and knows my first birth story) she told me that based on what happened it could be due to about 100 benign things and I was in no way dying. She also added to stay the hell off of Google.


Those moments of terror led me to reflect on my initial pregnancy versus this one. By “working” up until the day before being induced I mean that I showed up at my office once a day. I actually slept in until about 10am, got dressed, drove to work, sat in my office, walked around a bit and went home a few hours later. The people I worked with were so worried that I would go into labor in front of them (how dare I!?) that they were happy to have me coming late and leaving early. Once home I sat on the couch, watched TV, read books, ate food that my husband delivered to me and then went to bed.


This pregnancy has been a slightly different story. I found out that I was pregnant the day after returning from MommyCon Los Angeles. I did 3 more MommyCon’s (Chicago, San Francisco and Austin). The last one at 33 weeks pregnant. I have had little time to absorb the fact that I am pregnant since the get go. Until becoming uncomfortably large I often forgot I was pregnant at all. This pregnancy my office is my home. I get up and down off the floor with Jack about 67 times a day, lift him up 45 times a day and run after him as he explores life with his 2 ½ year old intense curiosity and excitement. I also run The Badass Breastfeeder which for some reason always involves me digging into 2 heavy boxes that sit at the end of my dining room table.


The pregnancy is different. Life is different. But I am the same. With Jack I sat around a lot. With this new baby I haven’t sat at all. But both times my unique ability to get carried away with whatever I am focusing on at the time bit me in the ass. When I saw the bleeding and my midwife directed me to simply “cool it” I walked to my recliner with my toddler man and we sunk into each other’s arms. He had a cold so we stayed in that chair for about 4 days. I decided at that time that these moments with him will soon be gone and I better get my head out of my ass and enjoy them. Sitting here with him nursing, playing with my necklace, looking up at me with his blue eyes, will never be the same again. Life as I know it, life as I have tried so hard to adjust to, that has changed in every aspect since his birth, that has me working harder than I have ever worked before, that is a magnificent madness from one moment to the next is about to get flipped upside down. Again. I have no idea what I am in for. Jack has no idea what he is in for. For now we hold on tight to each other, waiting, like on a roller coaster being pulled up the big hill, clicking along, waiting for the moment when all things stand still for just a second before going over the other side.

Abby Theuring, MSW