A Healing Love Letter to Ms. Body

 

Dear Ms. Body,

I'm not sure if I have ever told you before how deep my feelings are for you.  In all of our years together I feel as if I have always been holding back, withholding my true sentiments, my deepest emotions for you. You see now that my anger is subsided, I can see the beauty in all that is you more clearly now and I don’t know how to put my feelings for you into words.  

Ms. Body, when I sit with you now, meditating in silence, breathing in as your lungs fill with air, I am able to more clearly connect to all the energy that lives inside of you. When I stretch and move gently into downward facing dog and feel your muscles stretch from your Achilles heel up to your hips, I can appreciate your suppleness.  When I run with you, I marvel at your muscular legs pounding on the pavement full of agility and stamina. The things you can do are amazing.  The way you make me feel at times is too complex for words.    

Oh, Ms. Body, how I long to tell you of your beauty, of your exquisiteness. The curves of your structure and the softness of your skin should be forever memorialized in a statue only comparable to that of the Greek goddess Aphrodite.  When I look at your reflection in the mirror, me staring back at me, I wonder at the beauty of your charcoal blue eyes giving passage to our soul.  And the feeling of your silky feather like hair entwined between your fingers and brushing your lips brings me comfort of memories of a time when you were young. Not yet a woman, and the tranquility that existed between us then.  

  

Ms. Body, I have all these words, to describe your loveliness and your aptitudes, but I am still afraid to write the words of how I feel about you. How my heart aches to tell you, but I fear that you will betray me again. As you betrayed me on the day my daughter was delivered into this world, cold and forever sleeping.  Oh, Ms. Body, I used to blame you for this, but I have forgiven you for that betrayal, because I have learned that you never deceived me at all, but that you and I were both cheated.  

On that day you and I held her in our arms and we wept together. For the life that we had created was denied to us by the evils of this world.  A tiny virus more powerful than the brilliant strength of your muscular self, stole our little girl from the both of us.  For she will never be able to experience the love between a body and soul. A love like ours.  

There Ms. Body.  I have said it.  I have written the words that I have never had the courage to tell you. Through all the years I have stared at your face in the mirror each morning and denied you my thoughts and feelings for you.  But, Ms. Body, I cannot keep it to myself any longer.  We have been through too much together.  I am in awe of your abilities to create and bring life into this world.  On the day in the delivery room when Nora was brought into this world, I experienced your magnificent strength and grace. I now understand that I must no longer keep my true feelings secret.  I must shout it from the roof tops that I, Ms. Body, am in love with you.

I Love you Ms. Body!  I have not said it enough throughout the years, but I am saying it today, and every day moving forward.  You are my life, without you there would be no me. There would be no us. There would be no Nora.  You are my vessel to walk through this world with.  You were there the day I was conceived and you will be there up until the day that I die.  And for this Ms. Body, I love you. 

I Love You Ms. Body!  I Love You.

Love,

Ms. Soul

Body Talk

Healing is interesting.  It can happen anywhere, any place, and at any time, if you are receptive to it.  Healing is more about being ready for it, open to the possibility that things could be different, things could be better.  I had a healing moment in the car this morning with my body on the way to work.  My body, talked to my soul. And my soul listened and answered.  They made up; they started their journey back to each other.  The conversation went something like this:

Ms. Body: Lindsey.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean for this to happen.  I miss you, can we talk.

Ms. Soul:  I miss you too Ms. Body.  I know it’s not your fault.  I’m ready.  I’m ready to move forward, to move forward together.  I can’t do this alone and I needed you.

Ms. Body:  Oh, Lindsey, I need you too.  I am sad and I miss her too.  Lindsey, I loved her just as deeply as you did. I created her.  She was made up of my cells, my energy.  Her not being here makes my heart weep.  But I swear, I did everything I could to protect her.  She was my greatest piece of artwork.  She was a master piece.  I would give anything to have her back. 

Ms. Soul: I know.  I know.  I just needed a place to put my anger and my disappointment.  Often times, it’s easier to blame you or me then to accept that there is no reason.  There is no one to blame.  I am just trying to make sense of it all, because at times I feel lost and hopeless.

Ms. Body:  I feel the same way.  It’s difficult to go through everyday, knowing she will never be.  But, I need you Ms. Soul, I need you to help me get through this.  We need to grieve together, as one again.  It is not your time to leave me yet.  I can’t be a body on this earth without you.  We need to walk together for a time longer.

Ms. Soul:  I miss walking with you, in sync, holding hands, and being as one.  Ms. Body, our marriage has not ended.  It will go on.  I would say I forgive you Ms. Body, but the truth is there is nothing to forgive.  You did everything you could, you were attacked, blindsided.  It is no more your fault than it is mine.

Ms. Body:  Oh, Lindsey, thank you, thank you.

Ms. Soul:  No, thank you Lindsey, for not giving up on me and for being there for me during the good and the bad.  Thank you for always supporting me and providing me with a healthy vessel to experience this life in.  Thank you for being in this life with me, as my forever companion, for now and for always. 

Ms. Body:  For Always?

Ms. Soul:   For Always.      

Please Forgive Me...Ms. Soul

Ms. Soul,

I'm sorry.  Oh, how I'm so sorry.  I'm in pain, indescribable pain.  It's not physical, physical pain I can handle, I can heal it with white blood cells and scabs, I can control it with aspirin and rest.  It's emotional pain.  I weep. I wail.  I cry with every cell of my being.  This is not fair.  I feel so responsible, and yet, so violated and helpless.

Ms. Soul, I tried everything.  I tried to save her.  She was my only focus, my main purpose for those 9 months.  I wanted her just as much as you did, in some ways more.  I knew her.  I'm not saying this to make you jealous, and maybe part of the reason you are so angry with me, is because I did know.  I knew every square inch of her body, inside and out, because I created her.  I got to spend more time with her.  She only ever knew us, through me, through the physical, through the body.  I can understand why this hurts you so.

But, Ms. Soul, I did, oh I so did intend to and want to share her with you.  I was making her for us to spend time with.  To bond with, outside of the womb.  To feed, to comfort, to hold.  I never meant for any of this to happen. I was violated too.  I was robbed as well.  I feel helpless and like a failure.  I let you down Ms. Soul, you are the last person I want to let down. I need you.  I need us to be one again.

You see, I made her for you.  I wanted you to have her.  I carried her, protected her, and nurtured her for you to spend the rest of your days with her.  I did not know this would happen.  I did not intend for her to be taken, at the last moment, before I gave her up to the world.  How I wish I would have given her to the world sooner.  I regret not doing this.  I thought she would be safer inside, with me, away from the suffering of the world in which we live.  Looking back, I would change it all.  I would have delivered her into this world a day or two sooner.  But Lindsey, I didn't know.  I didn't know what was happening.  And I tried, oh Lindsey how I tried to fight for her.  But, it wasn't enough.  I failed and I'm sorry.

But, how do we go on Ms. Soul.  I need you.  You need me.  We can not divorce each other in this life, truly, until my death. And if we continue to fight like this, like separated, angry, parents, we cannot move forward.  We will be forever stuck in a game of hate.

Ms. Soul, I know you do not believe in religion, and I don't know how I feel about spirituality, but there was a day where you and I made a commitment to one another for this life time.  We agreed to wed, and be each others witnesses in this life.  That day was the day you were born.  It was then, that I made a promise to you, to be your vessel to experience this world through, and do my best to provide you with health, safety, and well being.  I intend on keeping that promise.

But, like a married couple trying to navigate the loss of a child, I need your support, not your blame.  I need your commitment to this symbolic marriage, not your disappointment and guilt.  However, even if you are not ready or cannot give me these things, I will stay in this marriage until death do us part, because I am committed to you for a lifetime, this lifetime.

Ms. Soul, Lindsey, I miss you. I want you back.  I want us back.  I want her back too, but know that will never be.  Maybe for you, Ms. Soul, maybe you will be able to be with her again someday in some cosmic way, but know that my time with her is gone.  I mourn this, but I don't want to mourn alone any longer.  I want to mourn together, as one again.

Please forgive me and release me from my burden of guilt and blame.

Yours for a lifetime,

Ms. Body        

Anger - My Overlooked Emotion

When Nick and I went to our last couple’s therapy session a few weeks ago, we talked about the different stages of grief that we both were experiencing.  I wasn’t sure where I was in the stages of grief, I was sad, so I said depression, maybe.  Nick was irritable, which was anger for him.  I noticed he started getting into the anger stage when he would have conversations with the T.V. and get annoyed at reality T.V. stars and sports players.  It was slightly amusing and gave me opportunities to laugh at our grief.  But, I said in therapy, that I’m not angry.  Or, I don’t get angry.  Maybe I don’t get angry, because I don’t see a point in it.  Or, maybe I don’t get angry because it’s the stage my dad seemed to use the most growing up and I found it futile.
   

I guess I thought I was immune to the anger stage.  After all, you don’t have to go through all of Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s five stages of grief in order, or you don’t have to enter a stage at all.  I would tell myself that one reason I didn’t get angry is because I didn’t believe in God.  I didn’t have him to fight with, to try to have conversations with him questioning why he did this, or put me through this.  I didn’t have to ask him, “why me, don’t you love me?”, “why my child”, or “what did I do to deserve this."  These conversations and feelings of anger never happened for me.

 

I also never got mad at the doctors.  I knew logically, after much research, that this was a fluke.  Something that couldn’t have been prevented and something that they could not have predicted.   And I wasn’t angry at myself.  The doctor’s had assured me that I did nothing wrong.  It wasn’t anything that I ate that caused the infection, it wasn’t anything I did, or didn’t do.  It was just a random, cosmic, unfortunate act of the universe, and instead of me winning the lottery with these odds, it was me losing my child.

 

I thought that I was immune to anger.  I thought I didn’t have it in me.  Logically, I knew that there was no one, no being, or nothing to be angry at.  It wasn’t my fault or Nora’s fault, or anyone else’s, not even God’s.

 

But, while working in therapy, I realized that there is one thing I had lost my belief in due to this traumatic event.  There was one entity that I no longer trusted, even though I had to everyday.  There was one thing that failed me more than anybody or anything in this world could have, and I have been mad at her from the moment I knew my daughter was dead.  Mad doesn’t even begin to describe it, I have been downright P*SSED at her.  She failed me, and betrayed me, and traumatized me beyond belief.  

She, my daily companion, my trusted guide in life, deceived me.   She lead me to believe that I would be okay, that she knew what she was doing, that I should and had to put my trust in her.  This devilish her, is my own body.  My anger was not at God, or doctors, or myself, but at my body.  How could she have betrayed me?  Who did she think she was anyway?  She turned out to be the cruelest of jester’s, blinding me with her magical trick of thinking I could bring life into this world, and then with a slight of her hand, at the very last moment, she deceived me, and my world would be forever changed.

         

So, I have learned that I am not immune to anger.  It has been with me this whole time.  From the moment I heard the words, “no heartbeat," I have been silently harboring a sense of resentment and hate for my body.  The lovely lady I trusted with my child and my life, my every day existence, was now my worst enemy. 

 

It’s bizarre that I can be so mad at my body, but yet during the month of February it has been with my body that I have begun healing myself both physically and emotionally through my grief.  My healing techniques for February have been about exercising at least 30 minutes every day and cooking nutritious foods to nurture myself through my grief. 

   

In therapy I have started to work through this dichotomy of both healing and hating my body within the same space and I guess, within the same body.  I am slowly working towards resolving my anger at my body through exercises in therapy of writing a letter to my body about my anger and betrayal by it, as well as working towards writing a letter from my body to my soul, giving my body a chance to tell its own side of the story.  But right now, I just think my body owes me an explanation and I will focus on being angry at my body until I am ready to move to the next stage of grief. 

I hear it only gets more messy and difficult from there, because as a therapist I know, under anger lies your true emotions, the ones we are often afraid to feel or confront.  And I’m already having a hard enough time to admitting to anger.  This could be a long, difficult road for me to run…I guess I better slow down and walk or even crawl through it instead.

~Still Breathing…Lindsey