Target: My favorite store, like most every woman. But I haven't been able to walk in there since Lydie's heart stopped beating. I have such a suspicion that Target will be a trigger for me and I will be a mess the whole time I am there. Not sure I can really explain why. Because I used to like browsing in the maternity clothes? And those baby aisles??... don't get me started. So hopefully this tube of toothpaste lasts a while. The ironic thing is, I have a son still in diapers and he's going to need some more of those soon. On a positive note, it's nice to see a zero dollar balance on my Target credit card every month.
University of Dayton Alumni Magazine: I used to love getting these in the mail and would always flip to the back to see who got married and who had babies. Now? They will have to go straight to the recycle. Unless they want to print an announcement about Lydie, but I'm pretty sure they wouldn't go for that. No one knows what to do when birth and death happen in the wrong order. You don't get to acknowledge either events, not in your school's alumni magazine anyway.
Facebook: Before Lydie, I was on Facebook entirely too much. I was a pro on those kids' buying and selling sites. I found the best stuff for both Ben and Lydie, always swinging by somewhere on my way home to pick something up and showing off my finds to my sister and my mom. (And not to brag, but I once sold an item for $7 that Justin picked up from the neighbor's trash. It was like picking 7 bucks out of the trash! That's a Chipotle burrito!) Now? Got out of those groups the second we got home from the hospital. The only reason I haven't deactivated my account is that people get a hold of me through messenger. But that Facebook feed, all those happy people posting photos of their perfect little families? Living normal lives? Posting pregnancy announcements or bump photos? It makes me sick to my stomach. So I stay off. I even deleted the app from my phone and that is HUGE for me. I have connected with other BLMs on Instagram so I have been using that a bit more... and I have "unfollowed" countless other people. Including my own sister. But that's a story for another day.
Make-up: I never wore much, but I did wear it to work everyday. And now? Since Lydie died, I have worn it exactly once: on the day of her memorial. It hasn't been a cognizant thing: I didn't declare that I was no longer wearing make-up. Maybe it relates to lacking the motivation to get out of bed every morning. And to be honest, I just don't really care what I look like. I also now wear my glasses instead of contacts most of the time. My eyes get tired from crying all the time.
The phone: I just can't do it. Need to talk to me? Text or email. Being on the phone causes me a lot of anxiety. I did not foresee this one. I did not know that your baby dying could cause you anxiety about the phone. The worst? When my office phone rings and I have no idea who is on the other end or what they want. The few times it has rung since I've been back (luckily we usually stick to email), it has frozen me, causing me to stare at the ringing phone with utter panic.
Pretty Little Liars on the Elliptical: I ran for the first 22ish weeks of my pregnancy with Lydie. Ran while pushing Ben in his stroller, that is. And then I transitioned to the university gym on my lunch break, where I'd watch my guilty pleasure, Pretty Little Liars, on my Nook while getting in my 35 minutes on the Elliptical. Now? Cannot.do.it. The Elliptical or the tv show. One of the most fucked up parts of the death of a baby is how little your life changes after it. Sure, I'm sadder and angrier than I've ever been, but my routine looks 100% the same. Maybe that's why I cling to the little changes. So now, at noon, you will find me running circles around the track. See? My daughter died and my life is different now.
I guess we all have our things. Justin has not been able to wear the shirt or pants he was wearing the day we found out the Lydie died again. Me? I can't even tell you what I was wearing, though they had to be maternity clothes which are now tucked in a bin in the basement.
It's a weird dance to try to predict triggers and stay away from them. Because some of the triggers are unpredictable or don't always make a lot of sense.