I've re-read parts of this a few times because it's interesting and a lot to sort of digest in my brain. I do know for certain that my mom was a huge stress ball during her pregnancy. My parents, who have almost no memory of major incidents, have told me this so it was pretty real stress (she also wasn't taking good care of herself). I couldn't be healthy in there, but I was forced out in a pretty terrible way, not prepared to be born either. No-win. So I spent a month or so in the incubator, turning purple on and off because they couldn't get oxygen levels right.
I wouldn't be able to tell you how my body memories connect to any of this. But when I feel stressed, I hide out in my bathroom with an extra heater and warm lights. It's the smallest and most interior room of my house. I can't tolerate contact even from my pets, so I shut them out. It sounds nuts, but I will eat dinner in the bathroom quite often. What I would really love is a little nicely lit sauna. Problem is I'd probably never leave.
I went home to a depressed and possibly re-traumatized mom. She became increasingly angry over the years. I don't have clear memories from the first few years. But in the few photos of us together I just look scared and like I'm looking for an escape. When I ended up hospitalized a few years later, she was like a stranger to me. I could have been taken home by one of the nurses aides and not known the difference. They all seemed unreal but I was drawn towards anyone who was nice to me. There was one staff who helped me find fun ways to stay occupied (I was alone a lot because hospital was far from home and there were other kids to take care of at home). There was a weird sense that she was my new mom. Anyway, that experience was just like a birth re-trauma because it involved many of the same organ failures, machines taking care of me, and isolation.