The Headspace Guide To … A Mindful Pregnancy (19 page)

It reminds me of the early days back in the monastery, hurrying to get ready in the morning. We often had just a few minutes to prepare for the day so, in an attempt to save time, I would try things like brushing my teeth at the same time as washing my face – the result being a flannel in my mouth and a toothbrush in my eye. Doing lots of things at once is not really in the spirit of mindfulness. That doesn’t mean we have to slow down or can’t get as much done – we can. But we are likely to do those things so much better when we take care of one thing in this moment and another thing in the next. Not only is this approach more effective, it also feels so much more comfortable and relaxing.

After my initial experiments with multitasking at the monastery, I was taught a really useful exercise, which totally transformed things for me. At the beginning it felt a little contrived, a little forced, but over time it became the most natural thing in the world and I really didn’t even need to think about it. It was an exercise in impermanence – noticing how every single thing we do, or are involved in, has both a beginning and an end point. Before each new task, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, we would mentally set up the intention to be aware – to be mindful – throughout. At the end, we would mentally acknowledge its completion. The effect was that we approached each new thing as a new thing, and left behind each activity as something which had already passed. So, before brushing our teeth in the morning, we would set up the intention to be present, to the taste, the smell, the sensation and so on. When the mind wandered off, as it often did, we would gently bring it back again. At the end of the exercise, we would simply notice how it was now gone, and then do the same for every new activity – making a cup of tea, going to the loo, making the bed, cutting the grass and so on. It sounds exhausting written like that, but done gently and in the spirit of taming the mind, it is so helpful and actually starts to feel really nice after a while. We start to see each new moment unfolding, as well as recognising the futility in carrying the past into the present, or jumping ahead to the future when we have not yet fully experienced this moment right now.

After some time, this exercise begins to bring a real sense of purpose and intention to everything we do. It no longer matters whether things happen as we expected or wanted them to. It no longer matters if we made it all the way through an activity or had to change direction halfway through; whether we got to finish that email or unload the dishwasher before bedtime. This exercise, when applied to a mindful pregnancy, is not about completion; it’s about staying with the task and moment at hand. All that matters is that we acknowledge the ebb and flow of life. And when we do this, there is no platform on which to build layer upon layer of annoyance of frustration.

Lucinda makes an important point about dropping the resistance and
allowing
herself to be a mother because, beyond all the tiny moments that can build into frustration, there is this broader idea that the mind struggles with – the loss of freedom and independence. The loss of what we call ‘me time’.

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.

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.

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.