My body, no longer in homeostasis, sensed that an incredible void had disturbed its balance.
My heart ached. At times it felt like it had skipped a beat or had stopped for a tenth of a second. I felt dizzy and nauseated. My palms were sweaty. Other times my heart raced as if I had been sprinting at full speed, when I was merely lying in bed.
Grief had taken a huge toll on my body. Aside from the literal heartache, I also experienced intense anxiety, frighteningly elevated blood pressure, insomnia, and severe brain fog from lack of sleep. These physical symptoms were debilitating and made getting out of bed nearly impossible. Showering and brushing my teeth were monumental tasks.
I wouldn’t have made it out of bed, never mind my house, if it weren’t for my ailing health. I had a ridiculous number of doctor appointments in the weeks following Josh’s passing, and couldn't put my grief on hold. So I wept in waiting rooms and exam rooms, in hallways and elevators. Once, while drawing blood, the phlebotomist said gently, “It’s gonna be ok”. I fell apart, my body draped over the little table, as I wept uncontrollably. She grabbed me and scooped me into the best and most comforting embrace I think I’ve ever experienced. She instinctively knew that I needed to be held. As hard as it was, it turned out that having to tend to my health was an actual boon - it gave me a reason to get up and do all the things that I didn’t want to do, the basic self-care I had previously handled without any effort.
These were my weekly appointments: my General Practitioner who was treating the blood pressure and insomnia, my physical therapist (for a previous injury), the cardiologist for my heart issue, my mental health therapist for my depression, and the gynecologist - because, oh yeah, I was also bleeding profusely for weeks and for no apparent reason, and my uterus felt like it was in a vice grip.
I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps my uterus was mourning Josh’s loss. After all, it had housed the tiny ball of cells that grew day by day, month by month into a robust, full grown baby, so enormous he had to be cut out of me, who came into this world with a shrill that both stunned and delighted me. And now he was gone. My uterus and my heart were expressing the sorrow they felt over the beautiful baby boy they had once sustained and kept alive. My body, no longer in homeostasis, sensed that an incredible void had disturbed its balance.
It would be weeks before I made it out for a walk around the block, then a few months more to get to the gym. I eventually made it out for a date with my husband and dinner with close friends, all the while attending grief support groups and therapy, processing the guilt, shame, remorse, and self-blame that plagued me.
The feelings were unbearable at times. When I’d cry, it felt as if I’d never stop. I couldn’t avoid the feelings; or rather, I chose not to. There was simply no way around this behemoth of a beast called grief. I had to hack my way through it. I had made a decision to live, and I held myself to that decision.
I realized I could just exist and float through life like a ghost of my former self, as anguished with guilt as Lady Macbeth was over goading her husband to kill King Duncan. If I let myself, I would have considered myself complicit in my son’s death for a myriad reasons that were irrational, untrue and destructive. I had to voice those reasons and get challenged time and time again by my therapist.
I’m reminded of a post from an unknown author on Instagram about healing:
“The most beautiful mosaics are created from broken pieces. In the midst of grief, embrace the fragments, the cracks, and the pain. They are the canvas on which you’ll create a masterpiece of healing and transformation. Let your shattered heart become a work of breathtaking beauty.”
Today, my heart is healthier. I exercise and take care of myself. There is a term for what I experienced, and it’s aptly named Broken Heart Syndrome, which you can read about here if you’d like more information. It’s basically the body’s response to intense stress, and it’s completely treatable and reversible.
Grief is an all encompassing experience that affects us physically, mentally, and spiritually. It's important, therefore, to address all three areas in our healing so that we can begin to put back the pieces of our broken hearts.
