I am finding (really, making) more time to read lately, as reading was one of my favorite activities BB (Before Baby). I even dusted off my library card and started checking books out, instead of shelling out cash for them. It’s been incredibly enjoyable to take a few minutes here and there (while pumping twice a day or on my commutes) to escape into another world.

Reading has awakened me to a new reality, though. The best way to describe it is a new set of ‘triggers.’ I have always been incredibly sensitive (even highly sensitive – such a great post, thanks Kristin!) to violence in media, but since having William, I have a very visceral, painful reaction to any mention or image of children being hurt, killed, or suffering. I had to stop reading the news and checking social media for days when the image of Aylan Kurdi – the sweet Syrian toddler who drowned – was everywhere. It was causing panic attack like feelings – I couldn’t breathe, my heart raced, I would get a bit sweaty and have a fight-or-flight response. I have had to put down books because, for some reason, I keep reading ones where babies and young children die. I love narrative nonfiction and Erik Larsen, and checked out his newest title Dead Wake (it’s quite good!) – but found myself having a similar reaction as he weaved stories of families aboard the Lusitania on its final crossing (spoiler alert: it is torpedoed and sunk by a German U-boat) and they met a terrible end. I couldn’t read the descriptions of what the bodies of babies who died were wearing, captured in the history books, and even reading the sheer number of children who passed was enough to cause an emotional reaction. Even fiction brings in death of babies – I’m reading Judy Blume’s In the Unlikely Event and there’s sadness with a little seven-month-old and other children and I JUST CAN’T ANYMORE.

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I know I am a bit of a ‘sensitive soul’ with this regard. Prior to becoming a mama, I couldn’t watch any movies or read books where animals were injured. Hell, I hated Homeward Bound growing up because Shadow, a dog, fell into a hole and was injured. I never forgave my husband for recommending I read Where the Red Fern Grows on a flight without a warning – I ended up blubbering all over my seatmate! Whenever I see a horse or dog in a movie, I immediately lower my eyes because, unless it’s a romcom, that animal is likely going to be hurt in some way, and I just can’t watch. It’s even worse though now, with children in media. Something in my brain, it seems, has fundamentally shifted and I am unable to process the truth that life isn’t rosy for babies and kids. I picture William, and all the unspoken fears of all the tiny risks we take every day – getting in the car, getting on planes, living in a neighborhood semi-close to the same airfield where a woman and her young children were killed during the day because of a plane – come to the surface.

I’m trying to push through these feelings. I’m still reading Judy Blume’s book and breathing deeply, but it’s a new reality for me that I couldn’t have predicted Before Baby.  My triggers have shifted, and I’m learning to adjust.

Did you find yourself being more sensitive to certain things after having a child? Has it lessened over time?