Sometimes I feel as though everything in my day is a trigger. With every new day, is a new trigger. I remember after Jonah’s funeral, all of the cut flowers died in my house and it was so emotionally painful to look at all the dead flowers that I finally made my husband throw them all out at once. Whether they were dead or alive. I know it was so incredibly nice for people in the community to send flowers and it made Jonah’s funeral beautiful, but it was a trigger for me one day. It reminded me that my son died.
I remember the day after Jonah’s funeral my family was over to see us. My niece started to cry for some reason and it just made me fall apart. It wasn’t her fault or anyone else’s. To this day, hearing any baby cry is a trigger for me. Nobody knows how badly I just wanted to hear a cry when Jonah was delivered. It was so quiet in the hospital room that the silence was deafening. Hearing a baby cry, whether its at church or on t.v., is an instant trigger for me. It is something I wanted to hear so badly.
Mostly, being alone with myself and my thoughts are the worst triggers. I take myself back to the day when Jonah was delivered and I replay it out. Moment by moment. I know I bring it on myself, but I can’t resist. Sometimes, I think about what my body was suppose to look like right now and the sight of my stomach triggers me. One of my good friends is getting married this weekend and I remember when we found out we were expecting, I thought about how big and pregnant I was suppose to be at her wedding. Thinking about the maternity dress I bought for the wedding makes me sick to my stomach.
Every new day. A new trigger.