The Headspace Guide To A Mindful Pregnancy

by Andy Puddicombe

  There is an illusory idea that the mind clings on to – the one that suggests that if we could be doing something other than what we’re doing, or if we could be somewhere else, we’d feel better. Nearly always in this context, this is a thought generated by the overwhelmed mind, struggling to cope with the demands of motherhood. You may have been thinking in pregnancy that this tiny human baby would sleep a lot, cry a bit, poo every now and again, but more or less slot in without too much trouble. And then along comes the 24/7 reality which is when, as my wife put it, ‘day becomes night, and night becomes day’. Suddenly, ‘normal life’ goes out the window and the mind keeps going back to thoughts rooted in the past, unfavourably comparing ‘back then’ with ‘now’.

  Once again, we’re at the same point of conflict – the one which has so often arisen in previous months: the intersection between how we imagined life to be, or think it should be, and the actual experience itself. Life as it is. And as long as the flame of expectation is burning, we will continue to experience this point of tension.

  Admittedly, if one hasn’t taken to parenthood right away, or if the maternal bond is not strong from the outset, this new way of life, with all that it brings, can be extremely difficult to move through. But in my experience, the first-time mums who I’ve seen as happy and thriving are those who have somehow managed to accept the circumstances, embrace their new life and give themselves fully to the role of motherhood. They do not see themselves as defined by that role, and there is no resistance to the role they are playing in this part of the production. The ones who I’ve seen struggling – beyond the natural adaptation of new parenthood – are those who refuse to accept the reality of now. The mind, understandably, can find it hard to let go of what once was – the freedom to go to work, to the shops, to have brunch with friends, go to the gym or even have a simple lie-in. As a result, tension builds, creating a feeling of resentment and yes, sometimes even loathing. It is a truly vicious circle.

  When you were pregnant, ‘the bump’ went wherever you went; you could continue with your career, meet up with friends at any time of the day, lounge on the sofa watching back-to-back movies and spend as much time as you had reading books or going online. Sure, there was work too, but you know what I mean. With the baby’s arrival, that kind of freedom is drastically curtailed. And the situation can feel exacerbated by the fact that most new fathers will leave each day for work. He can ‘escape’ for eight hours and speak to other people in adult language.

  And here we are, back to that idea of perspective that we looked at at the very start of the book. Eight hours at work? Are you kidding me? the woman thinks, I’d die for an hour at work, to sit at a desk and answer emails. Anything – ANYTHING – but this constant barrage of …

  Viewed like this, it can be easy to think that the idea of having time to be mindful is almost laughable. After all, how can we find time to be mindful when we haven’t even got time to sit on the toilet and have a pee? In my early days training to be a monk, I heard a story about another Westerner who, much like myself, had gone off to Asia to become a monk. This was long before my time in the monasteries, and he had set off along the hippie trail and ended up in Thailand, devoting himself to the monastic life and the practice of meditation and mindfulness.

  Anyway, at this particular monastery, they did about six to eight hours a day of formal meditation, and the rest of the time was spent looking after the place. This was a big community, so there was always cooking to do, sewing of robes, shaving of heads …

  While this man was happy to go along with this schedule, he heard a rumour from others passing through the monastery that over in Burma, people were meditating for up to eighteen hours a day. He started to wonder whether the monastery where he lived was really serious about this meditation malarkey. He even went to see his teacher, and I’m told the conversation went something like this:

  ‘How am I ever going to get enlightened if I’m doing all these chores instead of meditating?’ the man asked. ‘I never have any time to myself.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ the teacher replied.

  ‘Well, I have no time to practise properly.’

  The teacher, a highly respected man who commanded great reverence, replied: ‘Are you telling me that when you are sweeping the floor you do not have time to be aware?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do,’ said the man.

  ‘Are you telling me that when you are cooking the food you have no time to be aware?’ he questioned further.

  ‘Well … yes, obviously I have time, but …’

  His teacher stopped him. ‘Mindfulness is nothing but the cultivation of awareness,’ he said. ‘If you are sweeping the floor with awareness, that is mindfulness, if you are cooking the food with awareness, that is mindfulness. You do not have to be sat in the quiet with your eyes closed to learn mindfulness!’

  This is such a good lesson for us all. Yes, meditation is an important part of learning mindfulness and, assuming you have the time and inclination, the exercises at the back of this book are going to help provide a framework and support for you to greatly accelerate your understanding and proficiency. But ultimately, we can apply mindfulness to anything – to any area of life – no matter what we are doing, who we are with or where we are living. Likewise, ‘me time’ is with you wherever you go. The only thing that gets in the way of ‘me time’ is wanting to be someplace else, or doing something different.

  In new parenthood (and no doubt later on too), we do not have to succumb to the inner chatter of the mind or be swept away by feelings of resentment. If we accept this is where we are, this is what we are doing, then we create space. In the same way that the monk found time to be mindful while sweeping the floor, so we can find time while changing a nappy or breastfeeding at two o’clock in the morning. The choice is ours and ours alone; we can buy into those thoughts of resentment or we can liberate ourselves entirely and find a new sense of joy in each and every moment.

  BREASTFEEDING

  There seems to be a general assumption in all the pregnancy books that all new mothers will breastfeed which, considering the nutritional benefits, is not surprising. It is depicted as the most natural thing in the world, giving the impression that all a woman has to do is show the baby the breast and, hey presto, the ‘latching’ will be instant. But as so many first-time mums will testify, the reality is that this process can feel like the worst case of amateur hour, leading to a great deal of frustration and upset.

  Whether it’s a case of the baby not latching, a lack of milk production or your nipples being so tender that even gentle suckling makes you wince, breastfeeding is not as straightforward as some books make it sound, and it requires patience and practice, without sitting in judgement of yourself. This is a vulnerable enough time as it is, without adding yet another expectation. It is so easy to be overwhelmed by feelings of failure, shame or incompetence in this situation, none of which are justified. The more you resist and wish things were different, the more distressing the situation will become. In fact, in stepping right back, you can see it’s not as big a deal as it feels, and even less so if you are able to pump. All over the world there are children being fed formula who grow up to be healthy, happy and well. Sure, it may not be your first choice, but mindfulness shows us how to be OK with that.

  Again, there is a choice in the moment: you can hold on rigidly to a preconceived notion of how things should be (and become quite miserable in the process) or you can let go of all that, take it feed by feed, and rest in the uncertainty, knowing things will change at some point. Certainly, mindfulness will help you relax and become less tense, which can only assist your efforts. And whether you are breastfeeding or using a bottle, mealtime still provides bonding time. Bonding is not necessarily about the milk. Bonding is about closeness, being in Mum’s arms while being fed. Your baby is not going to grow up and remember whether he or she was breastfed or bottle-fed; your baby is going to remember feeling loved and nurtured – and I think
that’s the perspective to adopt.

  BONDING WITH THE BABY

  There is a storybook fairytale version of parenthood, suggesting that as soon as we lay eyes on our child, a connection will take place, the bond will be made and we’ll feel a rush of unconditional love. I’m sure this can happen, but it is by no means guaranteed. Yet, this story has created such a high level of expectation among new parents that if it doesn’t happen right away, and this is surprisingly common, there can be a great deal of confusion and upset, and often a deep sense of guilt.

  As with every pregnancy and birth, the way we relate to, connect with and bond with our baby is different for everyone else, every time. I know I must sound like a broken record by now, but our pain, our suffering, our confusion are directly equal to the space between ‘life as we think it should be’ and ‘life as it is’.

  Rather than torture yourself, let go of preconceived notions and forget about the experience of others. The baby is a new person in your life. In the same way that you would not rush getting to know anyone else in life, do not rush this relationship either. Ease into it, take it gently and allow the bond to form in its own time and way. And please, be reassured that if you are feeling ‘nothing’ or ‘ambivalent’, this is in no way a reflection of you as a parent. Bonding is not something we control, it is something that happens. It also takes two. Give the baby time to get comfortable with its new surroundings; to get familiar with you, too. Needless to say, it can also help to seek the advice of a trusted midwife or doctor to understand how best to nurture nature and help provide the most conducive conditions for this connection to develop.

  I’m reminded of a father who came to see me at the clinic many years ago, saying he was struggling to really connect with his new baby; he felt guilty, uncomfortable, all the usual things. I asked him about their time together. It turned out that all of this was spent in front of the TV, as he frantically typed work emails on his BlackBerry, half-watching the football, half-keeping an eye on the baby. Was it really any wonder he wasn’t connecting with the baby? If this sounds familiar, try giving your child your undivided attention and see what a difference it makes. For this particular man, it radically changed his relationship. No longer was there the conflict of baby versus TV/emails; instead there was the space to enjoy each other’s company and to connect at another level. But whether mindfulness helps us relate more quickly, or whether it helps us to be OK with the fact we’re not relating as quickly as we’d like to, it provides us with a kinder, softer lens through which to look at our situation.

  DARK SIDE OF THE MIND

  Sometimes, and perhaps more often than we’d care to admit, the mind travels to places we would prefer it didn’t. But when under pressure, when pushed to the limit, thinking we can’t take it any more, the dark side of the mind will reveal itself and, in the process, probably scare us half to death. This is a taboo subject – you’ll rarely find mothers or fathers sharing these tales over a drink – and yet how can we talk about examining the human condition without including the darker, harder thoughts? How can we discuss the qualities of acceptance, openness and forgiveness, while ignoring such intimate feelings?

  In 1852, the American writer Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, offered this observation in another one of his novels, Pierre:

  In her heart, she [a nurse] wondered how it was that so excellent a gentleman, and so thoroughly a good man, should wander so ambiguously in his mind; and trembled to think of that mysterious thing in the soul which … in spite of the individual’s own innocent self, will still dream horrid dreams, and mutter unmentionable thoughts …

  I wish I’d had that passage to hand when Sarah first came to see me at the clinic I used to work at in London. This kind heart had written to me, interested in exploring meditation because, as a new mum with a six-month-old baby, she was stressed out and didn’t know where else to turn. When she arrived for our appointment, it was immediately evident that she was storing a lot of pent-up emotion, ready to cry at any moment. She looked fraught with worry. Sitting forward, looking on edge, she said she had tried ‘doing’ everything, but the baby seemed to be constantly crying. ‘I don’t know what to do with myself … I’m desperate,’ she said, and then the tears came.

  As Sarah continued to cry I passed her a tissue and neither of us said a word. After a little while, I asked her, ‘Do you want to share what you’re feeling?’ She caught her breath, took her eyes off the floor and looked at me, pausing to momentarily consider, and then accept, the trust that I had offered.

  ‘Sometimes … sometimes, I just think of killing my baby and ending it all.’

  I held her gaze and nodded my head reassuringly. ‘OK.’

  I don’t know what shocked her the most: the fact she had actually vocalised her deepest, darkest thought, or the fact that she didn’t get the reaction she expected. My response was by no means forced; what Sarah didn’t know was that I had heard similar thoughts expressed many, many times before. Things like, ‘I thought about picking up a pillow and smothering the cries’, or ‘I wanted to pull over, leave the baby carrier on the hard shoulder and just drive off’, or ‘I could have clocked her one, just to stop the tantrum’.

  Although there was no need for her to do so, Sarah quickly tried to justify the thought, perhaps scared of what I might think, or ashamed of what she’d expressed. ‘I love my baby … I really do. I’d never do anything to harm her, but …’ and then she started to cry again.

  It’s hard to hear, isn’t it? It’s hard to accept that we think such things in the private sanctuary of our minds, where not even our spouses are invited, lest they think ill of us. When these thoughts arise, they are as fleeting as any other thought. They are just a thought, not an action, not a deed, not a reflection of who we are – and yet we attach to them and give them so much weight and meaning, thus creating the fear, the guilt and the admonishment that is the reactive emotional response.

  Through the lens of mindfulness, that dark thought is no more or less meaningful than a sad, happy or excited thought. We cannot say that a thought is inherently good or bad. More than that, we can’t even find it once it has passed. Of course, if you had spent a lot of time cultivating that thought, with the intention of thinking in that way, then it would be a little different and far more serious, but ask yourself: did you want that thought to arise in the mind? Did you ask it to arise in the mind? Of course not – this is simply the nature of the mind and thoughts come and go all the time. As ever, it is our perception of them – the energy we give them – that creates our suffering. If only we knew that others experienced similar thoughts, perhaps we would not feel so much shame.

  As human beings, we have crazy, irrational thoughts all the time. Just because we may idly wonder about robbing a bank while standing in a queue, doesn’t mean that we’re going to don a balaclava and stage a hold-up. Just because we think of walking into the boss’s office and pouring hot coffee in his lap, doesn’t mean we’ll steam in there and do it. Similarly, just because we have a dark thought as a parent, doesn’t mean we’ll act on it. Nor does it make us bad, evil or a terrible person – that’s merely our guilt, adding the kind of commentary that mindfulness seeks to disempower.

  As my teacher used to say: ‘The mind is neurotic. Enlightenment is not about getting rid of that neurosis, it is simply getting to know that neurosis, with understanding and compassion.’

  The thinking mind, the rational mind, will want us to shut these thoughts out, to hide them, to never even acknowledge their existence, as if to embrace them would be to identify with them, making them a reflection of who we are – yet more neurosis. But every time we push down such thoughts, every time we resist the dark side of the mind, it has to find another place to go. Everything in nature has a sense of momentum and energy; if we do not let it come and go freely, then it will be subverted. In Western psychology this is what’s usually referred to as repressed thought. It’s like pushing against a moving car: the more we push, th
e more tension is created. When Sarah voiced that one thought during our session, by simply expressing it she released a pressure valve. The burden she had been carrying was laid down and the feeling of relief was palpable.

  Thoughts are a bit like waves on the ocean. The ocean is vast, bigger than we can ever imagine. Waves rise up – sometimes small, sometimes large; sometimes blue, sometimes green; sometimes smooth, sometimes rough. But no matter how they appear, they all go the same way, back into the vast ocean that is the mind. Do not become attached to the waves. Instead, rest in the ocean of awareness, simply watching as the waves come and go.

  (Note: the only caveat to all this is, of course, if you feel that you would actually like to follow through with the thought, in that instance, it’s time to pick up the phone and speak to your closest health professional.)

  RELATIONSHIPS

  No mindful approach to pregnancy and new parenthood would be complete without mention of relationships. Only this time, the specific focus is less about you and your baby and more about you and your partner, assuming that you have one and are sharing your child’s upbringing.

  Before Harley was born, I remember some mothers telling me how I would likely feel left out, even isolated, as Lucinda and Harley deepened the mother–child connection. In retrospect, I can’t help but feel that this reflected their personal experience, rather than what was to come for us as a couple. Because whether it was my wife’s sensitivity, my own childlike enthusiasm to be very much involved or a combination of the two, I really couldn’t have felt more included. All that said, with so much attention on the baby, some partners may well feel a little left out at times, and that could so easily be a cue to go away and sulk, leaving the mother to interpret that reaction as a withdrawal or lack of interest, thus creating a further divide. But if you keep talking and listening to how the other person is feeling, then none of these misunderstandings need arise, and your relationship can actually thrive in this new environment.