Heartstrings are real.

When I recently visited Stonehenge, I had a strange experience. I just knew something was wrong.

I was fidgeting, picking at my nail polish. I was so anxious and exhausted and just couldn’t explain it. I even felt like I could be pregnant; that’s how much my feelings—physical and emotional—felt off.  

I mentioned this feeling later to my therapist, who explained that the phrase “tugging at the heartstrings” isn’t just a greeting card saying. It’s a real thing. Mothers have real, metaphysical connections to their children.

Lo and behold, I found out that at the time I had all that unease, my son was having a difficult time with transitions at school and other challenges. I then recalled that I used to not get a lot of calls from my own mother, but when I did, it was always at just the right time.

It clicked. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed this connection.

There have been times over the last six years where I felt debilitated. I knew something was wrong—what, though, I couldn’t quite place. I recall crying uncontrollably one random day a few years ago, not able to reign it in. No explanation. Then, I learned my son was very sick.

I struggle with this sometimes, and I wonder if it works both ways. If I’m burying feelings or upset, can my son feel it, too? Does he somehow know in his core?

I will always be honest with you when I have an answer and when I don’t—and for this, I don’t. But as I become more self-aware, I’m noticing more and more of these moments. I’m not in a depressed state, and I’m no longer self-medicating these challenging feelings away. I am feeling them hard. I’m leaning in. And I can tell you that metaphysical connection is a real thing.

To explain it further, my therapist told me about someone in her life who had to do a research project for her PhD. This person studied the use of kirlian photography—a type of photography developed by the Russians that captures not only the person or object but also its aura and energy.

For the study, they took a mother rabbit and her three babies and separated them, all in different parts of Los Angeles. When one of the baby bunnies died—even though it was so far away—the mother rabbit’s energy in her photographs began to register as depleted. When the second bunny died—separated in yet another area of Los Angeles—the mother rabbit’s energy in her photographs faltered again. When the third bunny tragically died, the mother rabbit was immobile, no longer eating.

While sad, this story illustrates the metaphysical connection between mother and child. And one part that I love is that the mother rabbit did recover. Her energy did return—it just took time.

The bottom line is that those heartstrings are real. I am learning to lean into that tug and understand that my energy will return, just like the mother rabbit’s did, in time.