After my brother died, I grieved as best I could, but with my 3-month-old baby boy, any physical or emotional energy I had went to him. I would nurse my son in the middle of the night, tears streaming down my face, a surprising gift of hormones that releases emotional connectedness to my physical self. Keeping a small human well-loved and fed seemed to lengthen my intense grieving period because I was so focused on him, instead of the grief.