There are certain things someone who hasn't lost a baby would see as mundane. Yet, those things may trigger someone who does know that kind of catastrophic loss. I've responded to little things like blankets, empty swings, Christmas songs about babies, kindergarten graduations, pregnant women, and so many more little things I never would have expected. It's hard if not impossible to predict those triggers for an outsider, yet they can even take the grieving one by surprise.
For instance, one may see ultrasounds of babies as perfectly normal, not meriting a thought because they are so common. Yet, to someone like me who has lost 17 babies in a row (a miscarriage, a child death, then 15 miscarriages with no rainbow to be seen), it's often a trigger. I'd just be scrolling FaceBook, and there was a post filled with excitement and anticipation. Most could say, "Congratulations" without a second thought. I'd have to wipe a tear and scroll past quickly. Recently, I went in for a regular checkup. I was asked if a novice at ultrasounds could use me as a test run for her skills. There was a time I may have found an empty space inside myself triggering. Now, a fetus and impending loss would trigger me more.
Dolls can be very triggering, but possibly not for reasons you may expect. We have a doll that looked so very much like the baby who passed away. I've often felt twinges looking at it. But the doll in the Halloween store that looked like my baby post-autopsy, created for ghoulish entertainment, made me swear off Halloween stores for a long time. It's only recently that I can periodically step in since I haven't seen one since. Recently, I saw an ad for a doll made to look like the image of a lost baby or a baby long since grown. To me, it looked like a dead baby. Once again, I reacted far more violently than I would have expected.
These reactions have gotten increasingly rare over time, but the world still feels like a minefield after a war. You never know when you may step on a bomb, and you pray it doesn't happen at the worst times. I am thankful to know I will hold my babies again, that families are forever. But that doesn't stop those mines from creeping \up on me, not entirely. I wonder if their disappearance will be a sign that I've finally healed.
