While communion is often thought of religiously, it is not a religious word. It means the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings. Grief work, the grieving process, is a form of communion—with yourself.
Part of this communion is learning to recognize what you are experiencing even when you feel most fragile, like after the loss of a pregnancy or a disappointing fertility treatment.
The way I see it, your grief speaks to you differently than the way mine speaks to me. But for each of us—all of us—what’s required is the same: learning to revere the grief and be in “relationship” with it, as both griever and witness.
The journey is internal. You emerge with more of you.
The following are some of the phases of grief as described to me by clients. (I’ve used similar language myself.) In thinking extensively about grief and its pressing requests for communion, I offer here some ideas of how you can help your healing along.
1.
The I-have-no-idea-what-is-next phase: This part of your grief journey is akin to driving in the middle of the night in dense fog with one headlight out. During times like this: Move slowly, carefully, focusing only on what is right in front of you. Your main job, as far as your grief is concerned, is to feel, notice and experience who you have lost. Say this purpose aloud so you can hear your own voice (much like how you might talk yourself through a foggy stretch of road in the middle of the night).
2.
The I-want-to-fill-the-hole feeling: Part of the process here is to recognize the uniqueness of who you lost—your baby.
During times like this: Find ways to “hold” yourself—hug yourself, speak to yourself, write letters to yourself in the way you would for someone you care about. As you do remember that nothing, nobody else, can fill that space, so it need not be the goal. Understanding that nobody takes the place of this baby lessens the urge to fill their space in your heart. Feeling the abyss of their absence is truly the only way to neutralize it. Gently remind yourself that this liminal space will not go on forever.
3.
The is-this-really-real? phase: Feelings of being outside yourself, of feeling disconnected to yourself and the life you know.
During times like this: To help neutralize this type of suffering, ground yourself in your body through physical activity and use of your senses. These restorative practices are less about “pampering” yourself and more about rooting into your body: Being barefoot in the grass or sand (feet touching earth); taking a bath or going swimming; breathing in scents (using a diffuser or incense, for example, or spending time in a garden or nursery). All these provide comfort and pleasure and invite you more deeply into your body when you feel outside of yourself.
4.
The why-am-I-so-afraid? phase: Loss is scary. It makes us feel vulnerable. This is natural.
During times like this: There is a technique referred to as “shining a flashlight on the monsters under the bed.” Maybe you’ve heard of it. As with a child when we ask what they are scared of, we want to do the same thing for ourselves by examining and questioning what frightens us. Make a list. Write down your fears. Take them and you seriously even if, once you see them on paper, you are no longer afraid (good!). Promise yourself that you will speak with someone you trust who can help you sort through your worries if relief does not readily come.
Sometimes fear becomes a default after trauma. It gets etched into memory. The loss of a baby in the womb brings a profound suffering to so many. If pain and sadness become too intense, seek help from a licensed therapist.
