The Headspace Guide To A Mindful Pregnancy

by Andy Puddicombe

  The resistance that Dr Amersi refers to is the tight grip of attachment – attachment to outcome, to hope, to control. But, as mindfulness reminds us with each new moment, we do not control nature, we are part of nature; we are nature. As soon as we try to dictate the expression of nature, or project our own self-created idea of how things should be, we set in motion a level of expectation that can only ever lead to disappointment. When we let go, this attachment is no longer there – only the present moment remains.

  The last thing we need to be taking into childbirth is every ‘what if’ imaginable, whether that’s what we’ve heard from others, or via the beloved internet. This is not a time for details. Place those details into the very capable hands of the midwife or obstetrician who has no doubt steered countless women through this experience. Sure, we might not know what is going to happen, but the doctor is more than familiar with the obstacles, pitfalls and dangers that may crop up, so let them worry about those things. Your job is simply to be present, along with your birth partner, supporting one another, every step of the way.

  Now is also the opportunity to turn the attention to the baby, because if anyone is about to be thrust into the giant unknown, after nine months of being safely cocooned, mostly asleep in the womb, it is your son or daughter. No matter whether they arrive by natural delivery or C-section, it is going to be quite an affront to the senses. The more motivated we can be by this idea – of doing everything we can with the baby’s best interests at heart – the less we will get caught up in our own stuff and the more emotionally available we can be for one another as a family unit. After all, this moment is one of the key focal points of a mindful pregnancy: the time to create a calm, soothing environment in which to welcome the baby into the world.

  A HAND TO HOLD

  Traditionally, if we go back to the 1960s and 70s, it was customary for the father to stay outside the delivery room, pacing up and down the hospital corridor or, sometimes, sitting at the local pub waiting for a phone call. Thankfully, things have moved on since then. But the fact that this is a relatively recent trend helps to explain why some men still feel a little removed. For so long, the father wasn’t involved at all and yet now, he’s more often than not an integral participant.

  The relationship with the birthing partner ideally needs to be nurtured from the very beginning with this day in mind. Their involvement from the get-go will determine the kind of support and synergy experienced at the finish line. Indeed, ‘Get the synergy right and the chances of postnatal depression diminish, too, because the woman feels supported, heard, understood, with a burden shared,’ says Dr Amersi.

  In the doctor’s experience, partners are nearly always grateful and more proactive when acknowledged and given a big role, whether that’s helping to deliver the baby or being the first to announce the gender. ‘I’d always let them have their moment,’ she says, ‘and, after the skin-on-skin bonding between mother and baby, I think it equally important that the newborn feels the partner’s nurturing hands, too.’

  From a mindfulness perspective, the partner plays an invaluable role, because it means the mother has a supportive hand to hold throughout the process; this presence and voice alone can help keep the mind in the present moment. When we consider that being more present often means simply remembering to realise when we’ve been distracted, having someone there to nudge us out of the inner chatter and gently bring us back to the here and now is an invaluable aid. More than that, if you have both been practising mindfulness over the course of the pregnancy, there will be an intuitive understanding from the partner who will know when to lean in, when to give you space, when to offer words of support, when to listen and, yes, even when to ask questions on your behalf. When such a symbiotic relationship finds its rhythm, it’s a bit like a dance between a couple who have been dancing in step all their lives.

  As much as it’s difficult for the mother to keep in step, so it can sometimes be for the partner, too, especially if there is a strong emotional bond. I’m reminded of when I had cancer, a time which I swear was more difficult for my wife than for me. When it is happening to us as an individual, we are almost lost in it – we have let go somehow, knowing it is out of our control. But when we are looking on, we feel as though there might be something we can do, something we should be doing, to help ease the pain of the person we love. Obviously, childbirth and cancer are entirely different, but the principle remains the same: it’s hard to simply look on. Yet, while no one likes seeing the person they love suffer – that experience alone can trigger feelings of frustration, helplessness and fear – the last thing the mother needs is a partner wigging out at the side of the bed!

  Of course, the truth is that come the due day, you never know how you’re going to feel. But the most important thing is that you set out with the best approach and intention. When you think about it, what more can you really do? You cannot know how nature will unfold, but if you approach this moment in the same way we have discussed throughout this book – with a mind that is intent on being present, open, soft, kind and gentle – then you are doing everything right. It doesn’t matter if your ability to hold that awareness comes and goes, which it will. The important thing is intention – setting off in the right direction and resetting course when necessary.

  KEEPING A KIND MIND

  If you could choose the very first word your child hears upon entering the world, what would it be? ‘Love’, perhaps? And if you could choose the very first emotion it comes into contact with, what would that be? Joy, maybe? You’d think so, right? But I cannot tell you how many stories I’ve heard in researching this book where the partners have argued through the delivery, where the mother has punched the father in anger and where the language was so blue that had the scene been showing at a local cinema, it would barely have scraped through with an 18 certificate. ‘She just kept hitting me and calling me an effing bastard! I thought she wanted to have children,’ was one man’s experience. Or there was the mother who admitted: ‘I was screaming to get that effing thing out of me.’

  Of course, the backdrop to childbirth is usually one of unconditional love, and this is first and foremost. And yes, you have every right to turn the air blue as you lie there half-naked, in a room full of strangers, legs akimbo, while trying to push a watermelon through the eye of a needle. But with all this said, given the choice, would you rather welcome your child into an atmosphere of happiness and joy or anger and resentment?

  The delivery room especially is an intense arena, loaded with emotions that may well have simmered over many months, perhaps even a lifetime. Plus, there’s the pain. The need to vent, curse, eff and blind is not only normal, but entirely understandable. But it probably doesn’t reflect the quality of mind you would want to embrace in one of the most delicate and precious moments of your entire lifetime. Try to think about what your intention will be as you approach the birth. Is it to focus every last ounce of love and happiness you have ever experienced on to your baby, with the support of your partner? Is it to push with the intention of hastening the journey and thereby reducing the pain and discomfort to the child? These may sound like fanciful ideas, but some women choose this as their intention. At times they may lose their way, but because it’s an intention, and one shared with the partner, it’s always there to come back to, at any time during the birth.

  The idea of a kind mind extends to you as well. How often are you self-critical? How often do you beat yourself up or give yourself a hard time? Do you really think this environment is going to be so different? Many women I’ve spoken to say that self-directed thoughts such as, Why didn’t you do this? … or You should have done that … or Typical, look what you did again … were frequent visitors after childbirth, or even during the event itself – as if it were not difficult enough.

  While we may not be able to just turn off the self-berating tap, we can consciously choose to go into this experience with the intention to be kind to ourselves; we can consciously choose to no
tice when the mind is drifting into negative self-chatter or judgement, then gently return to the breath; and we can consciously choose to celebrate our part in one of nature’s most miraculous displays.

  Treat you own mind as if it is the mind of someone you love. How would you speak to them in a difficult situation? How would you comfort them if they were feeling tired, angry, sad, frustrated or in great pain? We would never, ever speak to others the way we speak to ourselves at times, so now is the time to let go of that tendency, to treat your head right, to show it some love and let go of all the pent-up chatter. So no matter what, be kind to your mind.

  THE BREATH

  As one of my friends said shortly after the birth of his baby girl, ‘Mate, I have no idea what just happened; all I know is that there was a hell of a lot of puffing and panting going on in there!’ Not the most poetic description of childbirth but none the less, it quite accurately describes the experience of many fathers and birth partners. It also brings our attention to the breath – the anchor for our awareness, the oxygen supply for our baby and the vehicle through which we can help ease the process of delivery.

  The breath is fascinating. As we established earlier, it’s the bridge which connects body and mind. No matter where we are in life, barring any physiological abnormalities or respiratory conditions, the breath will often show us how our mind is behaving – almost like a barometer. It also has the advantage of always being with us. Some traditions, such as yoga, even encourage a certain type or rhythm of breathing to help facilitate change in the body and mind. Mindfulness tends to be a little more passive, still using the breath as a point of focus, but never really forcing it in any way.

  We already know that when we exhale we let go, so the more we focus on breathing out, generally speaking, the more at ease the mind will feel. In fact, if you think back to the once popular Lamaze technique – taught in antenatal classes around the world – that, too, encouraged greater exhalation, even if it was in a rather more dramatic fashion. But when we get scared, or tense, we tend to breathe in – to hold our breath. On a psychological level, this has the effect of agitating the mind and heightening emotion. On a physiological level, it reduces the supply of oxygen for both mother and baby, creating more lactic acid in the blood, leading to cramping. But it also creates an environment in which the body is simply unable to release or let go – the very thing you need it to do when in labour. Thankfully, even if you don’t get it right, the body will override this tendency eventually, but far better to reach that point gently, with intention.

  Typically, meditation done to support the practice of mindfulness encourages the use of the breath as the primary object of focus. It does not seek to change the breath in any way, but simply asks us to follow the body’s natural rhythm. However, in the case of extreme physical exertion, it is a lot to ask of anyone to ‘simply be present with the natural rhythm of the breath’. So, during childbirth I usually recommend that you use the breath as a vehicle to focus the mind, but that you do so in a slightly more proactive way. The breathing is conscious, intentional, but in no way forced. Which brings me to a certain technique that many mothers have found helpful …

  A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE

  It can sometimes be difficult to imagine how a meditation technique taught to celibate monks and nuns, high up in the Himalayas, could ever be applicable to childbirth, but stay with me here. Let’s once again look at the facts we are presented with: you are pregnant, and the baby is coming; it is probably going to hurt – quite a lot; outside of medical intervention, there is nothing we can do to speed up or change the outcome; it is, for all intents and purposes, out of our control. With this being so, how do we provide a framework within that truth, which allows you to transform the experience from a negative to a positive one?

  Back when I was a monk we spent quite a bit of time looking at the dynamics of the mind. There was one clear pattern which pretty much everyone seemed to experience: as human beings we like the good stuff and don’t like the bad stuff. Whether internal or external, person, place, object, sensation, thought or emotion – if we perceive something as ‘good’ we want to hold on, or try to increase it in some way; in contrast, if we perceive it as ‘bad’, we want to get rid of it, or have less of it. This may sound like nothing but common sense and of little use at all, but it represents an opportunity.

  After a lifetime of thinking this way, the mind becomes very attached to this pattern. Consequently, it is the cause for much, if not all, of our suffering. Remember, as long as there is resistance (and even holding on is a form of resistance), there can be no room for acceptance. So, what happens when we flip things around – when we turn that idea on its head? The exercise I’m about to introduce asks you to do just that, and the results are often astonishing.

  Imagine for a moment a close friend, someone you love, looking happy and well. How does that make you feel? Hopefully quite nice. OK, now send them a little more love and imagine them looking even happier as a result, maybe even laughing. How do you feel now? Hopefully still pretty nice, but is the feeling of pleasure more or less than the first time? For most people, it will be even greater. From the perspective of the ego-driven mind, even though we have given away more happiness or love, it seems to have boosted our balance. But what about if we try it the other way round – what if we offer to take on the difficulty or suffering from someone instead?

  This time, imagine another close friend or family member – again, someone you love and care for very much. Now, imagine you had the ability to take their pain away, almost taking it on yourself. It’s not that you will then feel as lousy as them, in some great act of martyrdom; but as an idea, how do you feel when you imagine taking on their difficulties? Now imagine taking on all their difficulties, so they are left with nothing but happiness. How does that feel? For most people, while the concept of the exercise is challenging and it may at times bring up a sense of fear, the feeling is one of contentment or empathy.

  So, how can this apply to childbirth? Well, the idea is that you keep working with the above exercise, and the one given at the back of the book on pp. 207–210, from the start of the third tremester, and then apply it during delivery. (It can also prove useful during any time of discomfort, such as morning sickness and pelvic pain.) Certainly, during the delivery, if you can work with the idea of sending the baby every possible positive thought or emotion you have ever felt – basically as much love and kindness as you can – while at the same time imagine taking away any pain the baby might be experiencing, then you are starting to loosen the shackles of tension. And then if you do experience pain, you envisage that it is simply the pain you are taking on from the baby, which helps you to feel good about it. This may sound a little contrived, but it works. And the more often you are able to practise the technique before childbirth, the more natural it will feel and the more confident you will be in its application. We can’t do anything to stop the pain, so you might as well, at the very least, use it as an opportunity to transform the mind and enhance your relationship with the baby. More than that, you can actually turn this entire event into an act of compassion, rather than one of torture. It sounds counterintuitive as an idea, and I was pretty sceptical too when I first learned about this technique, but, much to my surprise, it worked. And it has worked for many, many mothers in childbirth. Like all meditation techniques, it requires a little practice, as I’ve said, but with time, it provides the means for a profound shift in perspective and the ultimate mindful pregnancy … and delivery.

  MY STORY: Andy, aged forty-two

  Having come this far with you all, it feels like a good time to share my own experience of that big day. Throughout the pregnancy, Lucinda and I had gone to antenatal classes and obstetrician appointments together. We were a unit, wanting to walk this journey together. We had chatted early on about how we would like the day to unfold if we had the choice, and we both agreed that I would be at the head of the bed (Lucinda’s head that is) to help offer a
s much support as possible. This also limited the possibility of me passing out on the delivery-room floor.

  Lucinda had spent the nine months learning the different exercises you’ll find in the Meditation Exercises section, and had been doing amazingly well until the contractions hit a whole new level. But by the time she got to the delivery itself, she transformed back into the incredible athlete she is, even though she had to resort to having an epidural towards the end. It was as though she was at the gym, mentally focusing, using the Headspace techniques, while physically viewing the process as a series of reps and sets. I was completely blown away by her sense of courage and intention.

  Our obstetrician, Dr Amersi, who you’ve got to know throughout this book, had made the journey with us, and we were particularly fortunate to build not only a close relationship with her, but also to have someone who was on the same page as us, honouring and understanding a mindful pregnancy.

  With two nurses present as well as the doctor, I felt it was far too crowded at the other end of the bed for me to sneak a look, so I stayed close to Lucinda and did all I could to help. All of a sudden, Dr Amersi got up from her stool, looked up at me and said, ‘Right Andy, grab a set of scrubs and some gloves from over there and come take my place.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I said, still holding Lucinda’s hand and assuming I had misheard.

  ‘Quick,’ she said, pointing to a chair where the surgical clothes, mask and gloves were waiting. ‘The baby is coming …’

  Given no time to think whatsoever and following the orders of the expert, I scrambled around, donned the scrubs and hurried over to the doctor’s side. ‘Right,’ she said, smiling confidently and standing up from the spot that faced my wife’s nether regions. ‘You’re sitting there – you’re going to deliver this baby.’