Mind over matter

In addition to a traditional childbirth class, Adam and I are also taking Hypnobirthing. While I wasn’t sure it would really do much for me, taking this class has been the best decision I’ve made so far during this pregnancy. I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to relax my mind enough for it to work; I’d tried meditation in the past and have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of clearing my head of thoughts. But what I learned is that hypnobirthing isn’t about clearing your head; it’s about focusing your mind on images, places, feelings, etc. This, apparently, I am good at. I like how it’s not so prescriptive; you use the images that work for you. While Adam likes this one routine where you walk down a set of stairs to a comfortable room (which he has completely decorated to his taste in his own head), I like just taking some relaxing breaths and then going to a “special place” from my past. I find that focusing on the details of that place can really take me there and away from where I happen to be at that moment.

I actually had a chance to try out my hypnobirthing techniques last week. We were in the car, far from home, and I was having excruciating acid reflux (so bad I could hardly breathe). While Adam rushed us to the nearest supermarket to get me some Zantac (a godsend for pregnant women, let me tell you), I closed my eyes, relaxed my breathing, and went to my “special place.” I focused intensely on everything I was seeing, hearing and feeling in this special place and found the pain from the reflux lessening significantly. When a woman in the car next to us in the parking lot slammed her door, I lost focus and the pain immediately came back. But I was blown away that I could actually use my mind to lessen the pain I was feeling. I’m definitely a believer.

It helps a lot that I found a “special place” I could connect to so easily. In our first class, we were asked to go to a kitchen we remember well from our past (not the one in the home we live in now) and focus on the details of it. I realized that the details of the kitchens of all the houses I lived in growing up were very hazy — I couldn’t remember what the decor looked like, where things were in relation to each other, etc. I even had trouble picturing the kitchen of the house my family lived in from when I was in middle school until 1998, which seems really odd to me. But what I could picture with great clarity was my grandparents’ (mis abuelos) kitchen in the Cattskills. I could feel the texture of the linoleum floor under my feet. I could see the grain of the wood of their cabinets. I could feel the pointiness of the tops of the chairs in the dining room. I could picture their drinking glasses and taste the spring water they collected from a local spring. Every aspect of their home came to me so vividly and allowed me to go there in a way that is very conducive to pain relief.

And what that made me realize is that my grandparents’ home was my special place. It was the place where I felt happiest and most relaxed; from my earliest memories through my college years when I would often drive up on weekends. I was really the only one in my family (other than my grandparents of course) who liked it up there. My parents and brother found it interminably boring. Whether I was picking berries, playing in the creek, taking a walk, or reading a book, I always felt a peacefulness at my grandparent’s house (and with my grandparents) that I never felt anywhere else. In spite of the fact that I was extremely allergic to their house (it was damp and moldy), I always told my mother that I wanted to buy it one day and live there. But it wasn’t really the house. It was my wonderful grandparents. I don’t think I realized until now how powerful a role model they both have been for me. From their loving and companionable relationship to how nurturing and supportive they were towards me and my brother, they really have influenced my views on marriage and how I want to be as a parent. And their amazing and crazy life stories taught me so much about being strong, independent, and not letting anyone tell you what you can’t do.

My abuelo passed away almost two and a half years ago (hard to believe — it still feels so recent in my mind and heart), but my abuela is in her 90s and lives in South Florida right near my parents. I feel so lucky to have her in my life and I can’t wait to take my own little boy down to visit her next Fall.

So, even if hypnobirthing had not worked at all for me, which is far from the case, this realization alone would have been worth the price of admission.