By Cassie Shortsleeve| May 6, 2020 "This is Real Women, Real Bodies: Your destination for trusted health and wellness advice, reflecting the untold experiences of people like you. This month, we’re exploring maternal mental health, including the myths and misconceptions surrounding motherhood.
As soon as she delivered her daughter in 1983, Shoshana Bennett, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in Orange County, CA knew something was terribly wrong. She started seeing horrifying images of someone stealing her newborn, a nurse suffocating her baby, or she envisioned herself dropping her baby, seeing the head smashed and blood on the ground. When she returned home with her daughter, even innocuous objects around the house — the microwave, a vacuum cleaner cord, the dishwasher — seemed like potential weapons. Every 15 seconds or so, she’d imagine someone or something hurting her baby. Worse, with little, horrifying video clips on replay in her mind, she’d see that she was the perpetrator. She didn’t tell her husband what was happening. She didn’t tell anyone what was happening. Instead, she spiraled into deeper, scarier thoughts. Her pain continued for years. “I missed the infancy and toddlerhood of my firstborn,” she tells InStyle. “It was just one long nightmare." When she experienced similar symptoms after having her son a few years later, a psychologist made her feel even more scared and confused by making incorrect assumptions about her own childhood, predicting a negative bond for her and her baby. Her ob-gyn dismissed her experience as normal. She gave up trying to find help. This would be the rest of her life, she assumed. She became suicidal. What Bennett didn’t know at the time — what she came to understand in years to come — is that she was suffering from postpartum obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), the most misunderstood and misdiagnosed of the perinatal mood and anxiety disorders (PMADs)."
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By: Ash Spivak Natalia Hailes "It's no secret that the postpartum period is just hard. After growing and carrying a human for almost 10 months, you perform what is likely one of the most challenging physical and emotional feats of your life—birthing that baby. And then you find out you're just getting started!
During postpartum, you're healing physically and emotionally while a new, adorable human is entirely reliant on you (and requires way more work than while you were passively growing them). Add in little sleep, changing hormones and doing this all during a pandemic. Becoming a parent forces us to confront some of our biggest fears—loss, lack of control, change, the unknown. But here's the thing about being in the postpartum period during this pandemic. You are sharing those fears with a whole lot of people out there: all of us are being forced to confront them. It's like we're arriving at a jungle with no paths and no maps. But whether you recognize it or not, you are already starting to pave your way. We have no control over how long this pandemic will last or what the outcome will be. The only thing we do have some control over is how we move through it. One guaranteed way to move through postpartum during a pandemic with more grace and ease is to prioritize your own well-being. Taking care of yourself is taking care of your baby. The actions we are being asked to take to minimize the spread of COVID-19 mimic those that are necessary in the early postpartum days: stay home and slow down (if you have the privilege); care for yourself so that you can care for others. Just like on the airplane, you need to put your mask on first. For some, circumstances will make this even more challenging (those who have lost jobs, are working full-time and homeschooling and in the postpartum period, those needing to return to the frontlines, and those in essential jobs). While our capacity may be great, we are also only human. We never really know the path. We can only focus on how we move through. Here are some ways to prioritize your postpartum well-being right now, even during a pandemic. Ask for help You can't do it all on your own. While the physical isolation from your support systems is no joke, it's important to remember that you are not isolated in this experience. Even during these times there are ways for others to pitch in. Have someone set up a meal train or set up a fundraising page if you are in a tough financial time. Therapists, postpartum doulas and lactation consultants are all working virtually. Book appointments and put it all on your new baby registry—way better than another onesie!" By Alice Broster| June 10, 2020 "It’s likely that over the last few months you’ll have had to adapt almost every aspect of your life because of Covid-19. For new families and parents-to-be, this has been especially uncertain. The pandemic has dramatically transformed giving birth and the postpartum period. Virtual care and video consultations have stepped up to replace face to face appointments to cut down on the people entering hospitals. A neonatologist explains how postpartum care has changed because of Covid-19 and, while virtual medicine has been good for this period, it will never replace the emotional support that new parents need in person.
Over the last three months, people have faced going to the hospital to give birth alone. Families haven’t been able to introduce their newborns to their loved ones because of Covid-19 and for doctors on the frontline, it’s been an incredibly stressful time trying to deliver a high standard of care while keeping patients safe. An increase in virtual medicine has meant patients have been able to access their doctors without leaving the house. However, it’s also meant some new parents have been left behind. “For the vast majority of new parents, they need hands-on help. You need a hug and you need someone who is going to be there when you’re emotional. Sadly, that’s not something you can totally get through a computer,” says Medical Director of Aeroflow Breastpumps and board-certified pediatrician and neonatologist Dr. Jessica Madden. With people entering hospitals alone to give birth and clinicians not being able to do at home check-ups Dr. Madden fears that some families have fallen through the net. The six week period after giving birth is key for the physical and mental health of both parents and babies. According to research conducted by Aeroflow Breastpumps, 90% of new mums believe educating parents about what to expect postpartum needs to be improved. Three out of four said they weren’t given enough guidance and 66% said they found the postpartum period more difficult than they thought it would be. While some checks can be done over a video call, Dr. Madden highlighted that some services can’t adapt as effectively. “For the most part, lactation consultants can’t come into the room after birth to provide guidance and support. Breastfeeding clinics haven’t been open in the same way and that’s a massive loss,” says she says, “there’s an extra layer of fear right now for new parents. A lot of people aren’t bringing their babies to see pediatricians and women are scared to access postpartum care because they’re scared they’ll get Covid-19 from the doctor’s office.” Not being able to access care and support postpartum can have massive implications for new parents. In the U.S. an estimated 70% to 80% of women will experience the ‘baby blues’ after giving birth, with many experiencing more severe postpartum depression. The reported rate of clinical postpartum depression among new mothers is between 10% to 20%. “When you look at how life is for pregnant people right now there are so many more risk factors. People are isolated and there’s excess stress and fear. I don’t think we will really know the effects Covid-19 has had on postpartum depression and anxiety until we look back on it next year,” says Dr. Madden." By: Kelly Glass| June 10, 2020 "Asia Davis welcomed home her now two-month-old baby at the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. From the start, things didn’t go as planned. Davis was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, which black women are at a 63 percent higher risk of, and was required to get regular non-stress tests to monitor the health of her baby. Two weeks before her due date, her midwife explained the results of her recent non-stress test were “off,” and she needed to give birth right then.
“I cried and I begged to go home and get my stuff,” says Davis. “I had a birth plan. I wanted to labor at home before coming to the hospital, but now that wasn’t going to happen.” A maternal-fetal specialist sent her immediately to labor and delivery, where a series of unexpected events continued. Davis’ baby’s heart rate was too high, and doctors and nurses rushed to get him out. He was fine after a frightening birth: When her son finally made his grand entrance, his umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and body. “He wasn’t moving,” Davis said. “It was really scary, especially with nobody telling me anything.” No visitors were allowed at the hospital where she gave birth, in Cleveland, Ohio’s COVID-19 epicenter, on March 26. So although her partner was with her for the birth, her mother and family weren’t able to visit for the three days she was there. Again, it wasn’t the scenario she had pictured, adding to her distress. The postpartum period has been equally as isolated. It’s been just her and her partner and their new baby. Davis was diagnosed with postpartum depression, and with a lack of physical connection and a present support system because of social distancing guidelines, she’s struggling. Her partner, she says, is depressed too, so most of the child care burden falls on her. “I’m doing this alone, and it’s just too much. I need help.” On top of that, Davis is facing going back to work and finding childcare for her infant during a pandemic, which adds another huge set of worries. According to a recently released report by Aeroflow Healthcare, 56 percent of new moms said they had family and friends stay with them to help out. Still, 48 percent said they struggled with postpartum depression and 39 percent with social support isolation. Postpartum depression, a serious mood disorder, affects 1 in 7 women and can last for months if left untreated, according to the American Psychological Association. Other postpartum mood disorders, namely postpartum post-traumatic stress disorder (PP-PTSD), can occur when childbirth is stressful and traumatic. To add to that, according to a 2018 study in Frontiers in Psychiatry, low social support is a significant risk factor for PP-PTSD. And those findings came during what now seems like a faraway time when baby showers, hospital visitors, and family coming over was the norm. Now, moms not only face postpartum depression and stressful birth experiences like Davis’, but are even more isolated than before — and the effects are yet unseen." By Diane Spalding "I am a midwife, and that means two things:
But we are in a pandemic, which means that the latter is impossible—and this makes me impossibly sad. You deserve hugs, love, recognition and so much more. So I will settle for the next best thing, which is to write you a little love letter. Darling new mama. Here are seven things you need to know: 1. This is hard Welcome to the mom club. It's a really awesome club, but there is a sad underlying truth you need to be aware of: Moms are notoriously hard on ourselves (often for things that we have no control over). Like, say, a pandemic. So many new mothers are wrought with guilt that they are doing this "wrong." Mama, there is no wrong here. Not even close. This is just hard. And it's okay to admit that. Saying that this is hard or disappointing does not diminish anything about your quality as a mother. This IS hard. And it's okay to say as much. But that brings me to my next point... 2. You can do hard things Motherly's co-founder and CEO, Jill Koziol, often says, "This is hard, but we can do hard things." I'm not sure it has ever rung more true than right now. You have a long history of doing (and rocking) hard things. Perhaps getting pregnant was hard. Perhaps you had a hard pregnancy. Then a baby came out of your body—um, hello! Or perhaps you became a mama through adoption, surrogacy or with a gestational carrier—that can be super hard, too. The point is, you have been met with challenges before, and you have overcome them. Yes, this is tough. But mama, so are you. 3. People are on your side On #TeamMotherly, we often remind each other of the Mr. Rogers quote that says, "When I was a boy, and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers—so many caring people in this world." Maybe it feels impossibly scary to be bringing a baby into the world, but there are so many helpers right now. Public health officials are figuring out policies to keep people safe. Scientists and doctors are researching treatments and vaccines. Activists and policy-makers are working to make the world a more just place for everyone. Remember that even when it feels helpless, people are working around the clock to make things better for you and your sweet baby." Sharon Oughton|Ted Talk "In this talk, Sharon will talk about the concept of infant mental health and how the overall wellbeing (emotional, physical) wellbeing of the baby in the context of his/her early relationships is very significant his/her lifecycle outcomes. “Seeing” the baby in every sense will ensure our future wealth in society.
Sharon is a Child & Adolescent Psychotherapist with over 15 years working with children and families. In that time she has gained an enormous sense of the importance of early relationships, especially in terms of emotional development, mental health and wellbeing. Degree in Social Work, MSc in Child & Adolescent Psychotherapy, including research on the impact of fairy tales and modern cartoons on emotional development and is a member of the Irish Council for Psychotherapy and a committee member of the Irish Association of Infant Mental Health. This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx" "As we hide in our homes waiting out this virus, I’m worried about another, silent, pandemic." By Lindsay Springer| June 12, 2020 "On any given day, I make 17 snacks, change 12 diapers, listen to 957 complaints, constantly remind everyone to wash their hands, and burst into tears at least three times.
Yes, this is life with young kids. It’s what I signed up for and no, it’s not glamorous. Being a mom doesn’t come with “me” time. Showers are forever getting interrupted by preschoolers and their endless barrage of nonsensical questions. With three kids aged six and under, including a newborn, sleep is segmented, at best. Before COVID-19, the tantrum-filled, sleep-deprived whirlwind was mostly relegated to the weekends—but at least they were also filled with park visits, lunches with grandparents, playdates, dance, art and swimming classes. And back then, there was actually an end in sight—back to work/school/childcare on Monday, huzzah! But now, 82 days into the longest weekend ever lived, and I’m so, so tired. Tired of living the same day over and over again. Tired of making toilet paper binoculars and watching Paw Patrol. Tired of Lysol wiping the groceries and Amazon boxes. Tired of staying home. Tired of being scared of COVID-19. My four-year-old has developed a propensity for never-ending tantrums. My now feral six-year-old refuses to change out of his pyjamas or wear shoes. My husband has set up a home office in our basement storage room, the place least likely for a partially dressed child to wander in during a Zoom call (and literally the only other room in our house that is not occupied by the rest of us). The baby is oblivious, smiling and cooing at the chaos around him. Me? I’m quietly falling apart. How can I keep doing this? How can I get in the shower every night, wash off the spit up, the glitter glue, and the sandbox, only to crawl into bed, feed the baby, and wake up in the morning of this never-ending Groundhog Day and do it all again, without a break in sight? I, like many parents, am worn out and tired, and I fear this unsustainable hamster wheel we’re on is giving rise to a silent, mental health pandemic. A recent survey published by the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) in Toronto found that Canadian parents of children under 18, and mothers, in particular, were disproportionately more likely to report new or amplified symptoms of anxiety and depression related to COVID-19. These survey results are alarming, but not at all surprising since COVID-19 has changed parenting and redefined the landscape of motherhood." By Brooke Borel|April 17, 2020 "Here’s a primer on how to conceive, whatever your sexual orientation, gender identity or relationship status." "The early scenes of “Private Life,” a 2018 Netflix film about a New York City couple who are trying to conceive, present an unsettling scenario for anyone pondering their biological clock: A 40-something woman wakes up after an infertility procedure to find that things can’t progress as planned. Her doctors successfully extracted her eggs — but they also realized that her partner can’t produce any sperm. There might be a fix, but there’s a catch: It’ll cost another $10,000. Oh, and the doctors need the check today.
The scene, of course, is fictional and is meant to draw laughs, but it’s also a good reminder of how unpredictable and costly infertility treatments can be. If you’re thinking about having kids, what’s the best way to achieve that goal without unexpected and costly medical intervention? For most heterosexual couples, the first step is to try to conceive the traditional way, said Dr. Sherman Silber, M.D., director of the Infertility Center at St. Luke’s Hospital in St. Louis, Mo.: “I recommend, frankly, if they are young and fertile to make sure they have enough sex.” But intercourse isn’t always a sure-fire route to pregnancy; many couples struggle with infertility because of age, illness or reasons that aren’t yet known to science, said the two fertility doctors and one researcher I spoke to for this guide. Around one in 15 married American couples are infertile, according to the most recent published data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. And there are special considerations for people who are transgender, single or in same-sex relationships. Then there’s the high cost, which “Private Life” got right: According to the Society for Assisted Reproductive Technology, as well as a fertility benefits expert I interviewed for this guide, treatments may run to thousands or tens of thousands of dollars and aren’t always covered by insurance. What to do?" By: Katelyn Denning "When was the last time you felt overwhelmed? Last week, yesterday, earlier today? My guess is, it probably wasn't that long ago. If your triggers are anything like the moms I work with, overwhelm can hit you at any point and in any situation.
Sometimes it's in the middle of the workday when the responsibilities and stresses of the job get to be so much that you think there's no way you'll ever climb out of this hole, let alone your inbox. Sometimes it's in the evenings when you look around at the mess in your house, a pile of laundry and no certain plan for dinner that you feel like you've let your family down and what you should really do is quit your job so you could actually stay on top of all of it. Sometimes overwhelm shows up when you're surrounded by two children who are wallowing in their own overwhelm of emotions, crying and whining, that you think life will be this way forever. And you're overwhelmed by the fact that you are the adult here. Or sometimes, overwhelm waits to hit you until the craziness of the day has ended and you have your first quiet moment to yourself. When you finally sit down, exhale a big sigh of relief, and think about doing it all over again tomorrow, the crushing weight of overwhelm sits on you making it hard to breathe. Can you relate? No matter how it shows up for you, overwhelm feels heavy. It creates the feeling of being out of control in terms of practically everything you can think of. And like the temper tantrums we often witness in our children, it can be hard to snap out of. Trust me—we have all been there and some of us probably more frequently than we would like to admit. But just like we're taught how to approach and calm a toddler who is stuck in an emotionally overwhelming moment which often manifests as a screaming fit, there are things that we can do to help ourselves snap out of it, too. Things that can help us stop spiraling into that feeling of being out of control, and instead, grounds us in the present moment. You will get through this. Everything is not lost. This is only temporary. You've got this. So the next time you feel that feeling, you know how it goes—your breath becomes short, your head starts to feel heavy, you can't see past your own nose and you just might break into tears if anyone asks you if you're okay—try one (or try all) of these things to catch your breath and reset." By Pooja Lakshmin|may 27, 2020 "New and expecting moms are facing pandemic-related fears on top of social isolation." Photo: Mikyung Lee "After going through a harrowing bout of postpartum depression with her first child, my patient, Emily, had done everything possible to prepare for the postpartum period with her second. She stayed in treatment with me, her perinatal psychiatrist, and together we made the decision for her to continue Zoloft during her pregnancy. With the combination of medication, psychotherapy and a significant amount of planning, she was feeling confident about her delivery in April. And then, the coronavirus hit.
Emily, whose name has been changed for privacy reasons, called me in late-March because she was having trouble sleeping. She was up half the night ruminating about whether she’d be able to have her husband with her for delivery and how to manage taking care of a toddler and a newborn without help. The cloud that we staved off for so long was returning, and Emily felt powerless to stop it. Postpartum depression and the larger group of maternal mental health conditions called perinatal mood and anxiety disorders are caused by neurobiological factors and environmental stressors. Pregnancy and the postpartum period are already vulnerable times for women due in part to the hormonal fluctuations accompanying pregnancy and delivery, as well as the sleep deprivation of the early postpartum period. Now, fears about the health of an unborn child or an infant and the consequences of preventive measures, like social distancing, have added more stress. As a psychiatrist who specializes in taking care of pregnant and postpartum women, I’ve seen an increase in intrusive worry, obsessions, compulsions, feelings of hopelessness and insomnia in my patients during the coronavirus pandemic. And I’m not alone in my observations: Worldwide, mental health professionals are concerned. A special editorial in a Scandinavian gynecological journal called attention to the psychological distress that pregnant women and new mothers will experience in a prolonged global pandemic. A report from Zhejiang University in China detailed the case of a woman who contracted Covid-19 late in her pregnancy and developed depressive symptoms. In the United States, maternal mental health experts have also described an increase in patients with clinical anxiety. In non-pandemic times, as many as 14 percent of women will suffer from pregnancy-related anxiety, which refers to fears that women have about their own health and their baby’s over the course of pregnancy and delivery, and up to 20 percent of women will experience postpartum depression. Samantha Meltzer-Brody, M.D., M.P.H., who is the chair of the department of psychiatry at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and the director of the Center for Women’s Mood Disorders, said, “The natural vulnerability of this major life transition is exacerbated when you just have sort of global anxiety, and things like going to the grocery store to pick up diapers suddenly become a much more anxiety-producing event than it ever was before.” In my clinical practice and in a Covid-19 maternal well-being group I co-founded, women have voiced their fears about a number of possible distressing scenarios: delivering without a support person; being one of the 15 percent of pregnant women who is asymptomatic for Covid-19 and facing possible infant separation; and recovering during a postpartum period without the help of family or friends to provide support. There’s also grief about the loss of a hopeful time that was meant to be celebrated with loved ones." "Surrogacy is an important family planning option, but be prepared for a lengthy, expensive and emotional process." By David Dodge| April 17, 2020 "This guide was originally on October 11th 2019 in NYT Parenting." "From the time they began dating as teenagers, Rita and Erikson Magsino, now 39 and 43, talked about the family they hoped to have together one day. Almost immediately after marrying in 2005, they tried to make that dream a reality.
But parenthood would have to wait — Magsino learned she had an aggressive form of endometriosis that made it difficult for her to become pregnant. For over a decade, the couple tried everything to conceive — including fertility drugs and advanced treatments like intrauterine insemination and in vitro fertilization. Twice, Magsino became pregnant, only to miscarry late in the second trimester. “After we lost twins at 20 weeks, we decided enough was enough,” she said. A generation ago, the couple’s attempts to have a biological child most likely would have ended there. Instead, thanks to improvements in reproductive medicine, they welcomed a baby boy into their home in May with the help of a gestational surrogate. Surrogacy has also created an avenue to biological parenthood for thousands of others who can’t conceive or carry children on their own, such as same-sex couples and single men. As a gay, H.I.V.-positive man, Brian Rosenberg, 54, figured biological fatherhood was forever out of reach. But thanks to surrogacy, and a technique known as “sperm washing,” which prevents H.I.V. transmission, he and his husband, Ferd van Gameren, 59, welcomed twins, biologically related to Rosenberg, in 2010. “It’s still hard to believe,” Rosenberg said. “I thought this was a door that was shut to me.” Still, would-be parents need to be prepared for a process that is far longer, more expensive and emotional than many people expect — it’s called a “surrogacy journey” for a reason. For this guide, I interviewed the types of experts you can expect to encounter during a surrogacy journey, including two fertility specialists, a lawyer, a psychologist and an agency caseworker." New CDC Report Shows 10-24% of Women Suffered From Maternal Mental Health Disorders in 20186/22/2020 May 19, 2020 in Policy "A new Center for Disease Control (CDC) study finds that around 1 in 8 women report experiencing symptoms of maternal depression. The analysis, which looked at 2018 Pregnancy Risk Assessment Monitoring Survey (PRAMS) data from 30 states and Puerto Rico, found that rates of “postpartum depression” symptoms ranged from a little under 10% in Illinois to almost 24% in Mississippi.
The majority of women reported making at least one visit to their physician after giving birth, and most reported being asked about their mental health during this visit. But this also varied by location: Women in Vermont were almost always asked about their mental health, while those in Puerto Rico were among the least likely to be asked. At the same time, women who were younger than 19, or white or Pacific Islander, or had a history of depression during prenatal visits were more likely to be asked about depression during a postpartum visit." "Miscarriage happens in up to 15 percent of pregnancies. Why aren’t we talking about it?" By Jyoti Madhusoodanan| April 16, 2020 Photo: Kit Agar "Lizette Galvan’s home pregnancy test was positive a few days after her expected period. But at her first ultrasound, she heard the words: “This is where the heartbeat should be.” Just six weeks into her first pregnancy, Galvan — like approximately one in 10 pregnant women — had miscarried.
Most early pregnancy losses occur within the first 12 weeks. Although the risk drops with each passing week, a miscarriage can occur any time until the 20-week mark. (Later losses are considered stillbirths.) About 10 to 15 percent of all pregnancies end in such an early loss, according to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. “Miscarriage is the most common complication in pregnancy,” said Dr. Courtney Schreiber, M.D., an associate professor of obstetrics and gynecology at the University of Pennsylvania. “Many occur even before a woman has connected with a prenatal care provider.” Thanks to improved home tests, women like then 38-year-old Galvan learn sooner than ever if they’re expecting. “In the past, women would not even have known about a lot of pregnancies that would’ve ended in a miscarriage,” said Dr. Pamela Geller, Ph.D., an associate professor of psychology, ob-gyn and public health at Drexel University in Philadelphia. “They might have had a bit of pain and bleeding but would have just thought of it as a heavy menstrual cycle.” This early knowledge also means more women grapple with the emotional consequences of early pregnancy loss — which are often no different than the grief of losing a loved one. For this guide, I read through the science, and spoke with three practicing ob-gyns and a researcher who studies miscarriages to help you understand early pregnancy loss, treatment options and ways to optimize recovery." By: Karen Kleiman "The awesome responsibility of caring for a newborn naturally warrants a heightened sense of vigilance. Sometimes this necessary state of watchfulness can be confusing. At every turn, a new mother believes a crisis is looming. Afraid of slipping and dropping the baby, she holds them extra tightly while she goes down the stairs. Afraid of a disaster in the night, she keeps herself awake to hear the silent sounds of breathing. If she falls asleep from sheer fatigue, she dreams of causing the baby harm through her own negligence.
Here are some reasons why postpartum women don't share these scary thoughts: 1. The ambiguity factor One reason why postpartum women don't talk about the thoughts that are having is that they are not sure what is "normal" and what may be problematic. This is due to the overlapping experiences between women with postpartum anxiety or depression and women with no such diagnosis. For example: fatigue, loss of libido, moodiness, weepiness, changes in weight, sleep disturbance, and low energy can all be attributed to anxiety and depression, yet they are also considered to be within normal expectations for postpartum adjustment. Because moods and other internal experiences are expected to fluctuate following childbirth, women sometimes decide it is best to brave any discomfort and hope it goes away by itself. Unfortunately, scary thoughts are not easy to ride out. What's more, without proper assessment, a woman's worry about these thoughts can rapidly disintegrate from initial concern to panic. 2. The critical inner voice The shame that can accompany upsetting thoughts is unbearable. What is wrong with me? How can I be thinking these things? Good mothers don't think such terrible thoughts. Often, the only explanation that makes sense to a mother who is trying to reconcile this disturbing experience is that there is something profoundly wrong with her, something is broken inside. Maybe she is close to insanity. Or maybe she is not fit to be a mother. Either option, or anything in between, is a nightmare. This nightmare stuns many women into silence. They hope that if they can just hold their breath and carry off this role-play, their awful thoughts will somehow go away. In some instances, the thoughts actually do go away. Usually, they do not. Other women tirelessly try to push the thoughts out of their minds, but are distraught when the thoughts return in full force. Some women can express the horror of their thoughts along with the abysmal shame that accompanies them, but, for many, the actual articulation of the specific thoughts, the words they fear would somehow make the thoughts come alive, remain locked inside. Women say they are embarrassed, ashamed, mortified, humiliated and guilty beyond description. They say they feel hideously exposed, naked, repulsive, raw, nauseous, ugly and sickened by their own thoughts. Some say they feel so appalled by the nature of their thoughts that they feel inhuman, as if only a monster could possess and admit such atrocities. An important point here is that high level of distress indicates that the scary thoughts are ego-dystonic, or incompatible with the woman's sense of herself. Although it is never easy to experience such high levels of distress, there is considerably more concern when a woman expresses no such distress or displays no strong affect attached to this worry. Thus, a woman's agitation is often a signal that anxiety is the mechanism at work and not something more worrisome, like psychosis. Knowing this can reassure both the distressed mother and her healthcare provider. Shame-based barriers to disclosing one's thoughts can be fueled by the critic inside one's own head. With regard to the critical inner voice, mothers report they are reluctant to reveal scary thoughts because they:
"The pain of pregnancy loss lingers and can take a toll on your relationship." By: Mira Ptacin| April 19, 2020 Photo: Mira Ptacin and her husband, Andrew, wed one month after a pregnancy loss.Credit...via Mira Ptacin "Five months into my pregnancy and moments after we went in for a sonogram, a deafening silence filled the air. The image on the ultrasound screen revealed the child in my womb had a constellation of birth defects and no chance of survival outside of my body.
Right after doctors gave me the diagnosis — holoprosencephaly — I was given three options: terminate the pregnancy, induce and deliver a doomed fetus or wait for the tragedy to unfold on its own terms. Ten days later, I was no longer pregnant. One month after that, my fiancé, Andrew, and I got married. My breasts were leaking milk, I was wearing a trampoline-sized maxi pad and still bleeding when I said the words “I do.” Since this loss 12 years ago, I’ve seen my share of therapists and bereavement experts. As Andrew and I waded through the bleary stages of our sorrow, many of these professionals warned us that divorce rates after experiencing child loss are staggeringly high. “Up to 90 percent” was the common refrain — a statistic most likely drawn from one of the earliest books on grief and child loss, Harriet Schiff’s groundbreaking “The Bereaved Parent.” But this book was published in 1977, and Schiff’s study is hardly conclusive. First of all, she cites little empirical evidence. Also, it’s hard to statistically control for all the variables in a relationship; separating the influence of child loss from other causes of marital problems in bereaved couples is essentially impossible. Still, professional therapists, grief counselors and couples can agree on this: Marriage is difficult, and managing to stay married after the death of your child is incredibly, incredibly difficult. “You’re the only two people who have shared the loss of your child, and it feels like you can get lost in the pain,” said Anne Belden, M.S., a family planning coach who runs a private practice that focuses on women and couples who are going through infertility, adoption and child loss. “To look in the eyes of your partner and see equally deep despair — it magnifies your pain and can almost be too much to bear.” Being with your own grief is hard enough, Belden explained, but sometimes, sharing our sorrow with the person who has experienced the loss with us fails to promote healing. Quite often, the opposite occurs." By Jennie Agg| May 5, 2020 "After losing four pregnancies, Jennie Agg set out to unravel the science of miscarriage. Then, a few months in, she found out she was pregnant again – just as the coronavirus pandemic hit"
"I stepped out of Oxford Circus tube into mid-morning crowds and cold, bright sunshine. The consultant’s words were still ringing in my ears. “Nothing.” How could the answer be nothing? This was January 2018, six months since my third miscarriage, a symptomless, rather businesslike affair, diagnosed at an early scan. The previous November, I’d undergone a series of investigations into possible reasons why I’d lost this baby and the two before it. That morning, we had gone to discuss the results at the specialist NHS clinic we’d been referred to after officially joining the one in 100 couples who lose three or more pregnancies. I had barely removed my coat before the doctor started rattling off the things I had tested negative for: antiphospholipid antibodies, lupus anticoagulant, Factor V Leiden, prothrombin gene mutation. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but this is good news,” he said, while the hopeful part of me crumpled. We were not going to get a magic wand, a cure, a different-coloured pill to try next time. Now, my husband, Dan, was back at work and, for reasons I can’t really explain, I had decided to take myself shopping rather than go home after the appointment. I stood staring down the flat, grey frontages of Topshop and NikeTown and willed my feet to unstick themselves from the pavement. I ended up wandering the beauty hall of one of London’s more famous department stores. I let myself be persuaded to try a new facial, which uses “medical-grade lasers” to evaporate pollution and dead skin cells from pores to “rejuvenate” and “transform” your complexion. Upstairs in the treatment room, the form I was handed asked if I’d had any surgery in the past year. I wrote in tight, cramped letters that six months ago I had an operation to remove the remains of a pregnancy, under general anaesthetic. When I handed the clipboard back to the beautician, she didn’t mention it. I wished that she would. As I lay back and felt the hot ping of the laser dotting across my forehead, I thought how ridiculous this all was; that this laser-facial is something humans have figured out how to do. How has someone, somewhere, in a lab or the boardroom of a cosmetics conglomerate, conceived of this – a solution to a problem that barely exists – and yet no one can tell me why I can’t carry a baby? There is no doctor who can reverse a miscarriage. Generally, according to medical literature, once one starts, it cannot be prevented. When I read these words for the first time, three years ago, after Googling “bleeding in early pregnancy”, a few days before what should have been our 12-week scan, I felt cheated. Cheated, because when you’re pregnant you are bombarded with instructions that are supposed to prevent this very thing. No soft cheese for you. No drinking, either. Don’t smoke, limit your caffeine intake, no cleaning out the cat’s litter tray. I had assumed, naively, that this meant we knew how to prevent miscarriage these days, that we understood why it happened and what caused it; that it could be avoided if you followed the rules. You learn very quickly that the truth is more complicated. After a miscarriage, no medic asks you how much coffee you drank or if you accidentally ate any under-cooked meat. Instead you find that miscarriage is judged to be largely unavoidable. An estimated one in five pregnancies ends in miscarriage, with the majority occurring before the 12-week mark. Seventy-one per cent of people who lose a pregnancy aren’t given a reason, according to a 2019 survey by the baby charity Tommy’s. You are told – repeatedly – that it’s “just bad luck”, “just one of those things”, “just nature’s way”. Just, just, just. A fatalistic shrug of a word. But this is not the whole story. “There is this myth out there that every miscarriage that occurs is because there’s some profound problem with the pregnancy, that there’s nothing that can be done,” says Arri Coomarasamy, a professor of gynaecology and reproductive medicine, and director of the UK’s National Centre for Miscarriage Research, which was set up by Tommy’s in 2016. “Science is trying to unpick that myth.” Unfortunately, the roots of this myth run deep. It’s an idea reinforced by the social convention that you shouldn’t reveal a pregnancy until after 12 weeks, once the highest risk of miscarriage has passed. It goes unchallenged thanks to age-old squeamishness and shame around women’s bodies, and our collective ineloquence on matters of grief. The bloody, untimely end of a pregnancy sits at the centre of a perfect Venn diagram of things that make us uncomfortable: sex, death and periods. An impression persists that, while unfortunate, miscarriages are soon forgotten once another baby arrives – that you’ll get there eventually. It’s true that the majority of people who have a miscarriage will go on to have a successful pregnancy when they next conceive (about 80%, one study carried out in the 1980s found). Even among couples who have had three miscarriages in a row, for more than half, the next pregnancy will be successful. Accordingly, the prevailing logic seems to be that not only is miscarriage something that cannot be fixed – it doesn’t need to be fixed. There is little research or funding for trials, and only glancing attention from the healthcare system. What is not being heard, in all this, is that miscarriage matters." By: Megan Richardson, LMFT, NCC "There is no doubt that COVID is putting a strain on a lot of aspects of our life, one of them being our relationships. While some couples may find that spending extra time with their spouse is creating additional problems in the relationship that once did not exist, many couples are also finding prior relationship concerns are now being placed into a spotlight that may have been easy to avoid or ignore before.I am a strong believer in the fact that the goal of relationships is surprisingly not to feel happy all the time, as it can be easy to blame unhappiness on a partner when there may be other contributing factors. Instead, it is important to acknowledge what you may be feeling in your relationship so that you can take action to address your emotional reactions.
Aside from being in a relationship where you or your children’s safety is at risk, unhappiness may not actually be a good reason to end a relationship. Our partners were not created to make us happy, just like we should not be expected to make our partners happy. Couples often find relief in learning most relationships go through seasons where they do not necessarily feel happy but can still have a satisfying experience in the long term if they remain committed and work on their relationship concerns. Happiness can be worked on. Couples who end relationships because they are unhappy often continue to find themselves unhappy outside of the relationship, as well. So while it can be easy to blame your unhappiness on your partner, it may not be all of their fault. If you find yourself feeling especially irritated with your spouse since the start of the quarantine, you are not alone. But it also may not be their fault." By Meghan Holohan| April 20, 2020 "After experiencing infertility for almost four years, Sarah and Brian Piett felt thrilled to welcome their new son, Brooks, on February 26. Soon after, the COVID-19 pandemic dramatically changed life. Now friends and family can’t meet the baby or offer to babysit. As the quarantine lingers, Sarah feels more listless, worried and frustrated. “Our whole family has really been waiting for Brooks forever and have been on this journey with us. We finally have our baby and nobody can even see him,” the 29-year-old recovery room nurse from Canonsburg, Pennsylvania, told TODAY Parents. “I’ve cried a lot.” "After facing infertility for almost four years, the Pietts were excited to finally welcome a baby. But that feeling lessened as stay-at-home orders means Sarah feels isolated." -- Courtesy of the Piett family "Sarah struggled to breastfeed and a phone call with the lactation consultant made her feel guilty about pumping and supplementing with formula. She wishes she had a little more help around the house or could even go to a moms group or walk around a mall.
“I love my baby and I love holding him,” she said. “Sometimes you wish that somebody was here just to hold him for like five minutes to give you a break.” At her six-week follow up appointment, she scored high on a diagnostic test for postpartum depression. Her doctor gave her a prescription and a therapist recommendation. She feels like being isolated is making her depression and anxiety more severe. “It sounds so selfish but I keep thinking this isn’t the maternity leave I envisioned. I thought I’d be able to see friends and they’d be able to see my baby and enjoy him,” Piett said. “It just totally all around completely sucks.” By Anne Miller| April 15, 2020 "When the first pregnancy arrives with little effort, struggling to conceive again can come as a shock." "The doctor sketched a rough outline of my reproductive organs and nearby anatomy as she talked. The black lines on white paper seemed so sparse, when in reality they represented our hopes for the future. My husband and I had a healthy, smart, sassy, thriving preschooler; but we wanted another child. And with the relative ease of our first pregnancy — three months of trying followed by a clockwork 40 weeks (and three days) of pregnancy — we assumed the second would come easily.
Instead, it took us a little more than two years to conceive. The process hit us like a shock wave, draining our savings and deflating our dreams. The doctors called it secondary infertility, a sometimes nebulous term that’s often given to women (or couples) who have successfully given birth but are struggling to get or stay pregnant again. As with regular infertility, it’s diagnosed in women who can’t seem to conceive after trying for a year or more (if they’re under 35); or for six months or more (if they’re 35 or older). For many women, a secondary infertility diagnosis can come as a shock — if you’ve had a baby once, why shouldn’t you be able to have another? “I had heard that secondary infertility was possible, but I never thought it would happen to us,” said Shannon Stockton, a mom of two girls who are more than eight years apart. “I had gotten pregnant so easily the first time.” Stockton, who works as an executive assistant for a medical nonprofit, had her first daughter at 28, and hoped to have a second child four or five years later. She and her husband started trying again when she was 33, but she didn’t give birth until she was 37. “Why couldn’t we figure out the timing? Why wouldn’t our bodies do what they were supposed to do?” they wondered. Their diagnosis: unexplained secondary infertility." Sixteen women on their personal transformations. "I Started Saying Yes to No" By Casey Wilson "I am a yes person. Shonda Rhimes lived a “Year of Yes” and I have lived a lifetime of yes. In fact, I prided myself on coming from a place of yes, emotionally, whatever that means? Yes, I'll take a red eye to be at your bachelorette party. Yes, I'll help the male stripper round up his lose clothes after the music has stopped and everyone else stands around in horrified silence. Yes, I'll co-lead a self-help retreat for friends in Joshua Tree, despite the fact my own life is in utter shambles. Yes, I'll hurt when no one wants to attend! Yes, I'll go to couples therapy with a boyfriend for a year after we stop dating to "tie up loose ends." Yes, I'll suport your pyramid scheme and buy your chalky shakes and bad jewelry and Flat Earth pamphlets. Yes, I'll sell those items myself, to little success. Yes, I'll host. Yes, I'll speak. Yes, I'll march. Yes, I'll give. Yes, I'll be there. And here. And everywhere. And perhaps most upsetting: Yes, I'll go to your one-person show. And then I had children. Two spirited little boys. Suddenly I was barely getting to or even halfway doing the things I cared about most: working, deepening my marriage, tending to my precious female friendships, fighting for change and watching every episode of "The Real Housewives." Something had to give, and it wasn't gonna be The Housewives. It became clear I had to drill down on what was truly necessary. That meant only doing the things it felt (as a friend puts it) "joyful for my spirit to do." I imposed a Marie Kondo-like approach to social commitments and anything that extended beyond the rewarding (yet relentless!) work of motherhood. It's still hard for me to say no. It's simply not in my nature. I hate to disappoint people, be they a boss or a male stripper. But nothing forces you to create boundaries like having kids. We have only so much energy. I have, maybe, almost...none? Because that sound we have always been aware of, that dim hum that has been running under our entire lives, grows louder as children are ushered in. It's the hum of mortality. There's only so much time. We must say no in order to say yes to what is most essential. Until the time comes to say goodbye." "I Started to Worry About Failure" By Nikole Hannah-Jones "I grew up in a dysfunctional household because my father was an alcoholic, and when I was young, I would lie in my twin bed next to the window and write out the life I planned to lead when I grew up and gained control. I still have the battered, sunshine-colored notebook in which I plotted my future.
Our family was working class. We had no wealth and no family connections to open doors, but the one advantage I can claim was unwavering confidence in my ability to change my circumstance. I did not trust many people, but I trusted myself absolutely. Even as a young child, I believed in my mind, my work ethic and my ambition. And so, my journal did not record my hopes for the future. It recorded what would be. I have been afraid of many things in my life, but failure was not one of the. Until I had my daughter. Because of my childhood, I have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about all the things I would never do as a parent, all the ways I would be better. I had a determination to create the home life for my dhild that I wished I had growing up. Yet before she breathed her first breath, when she was just a flutter in my stomach, I began to feel a tightness in my chest driven by a fear that I would not be up to the task. That no matter how much I loved her, I would make so many mistakes, mistakes I likely would not even know I was making, mistakes that would somehow scar my child the way that I feel scarred.I likely would not even know I was making mistakes that would somehow scar my child the way that I feel scarred. The confident control I have exercised over my entire life feels so tenuous now that I am in charge of raising another human being who is witnessing me and all my flaws while her personhood is being formed. Even now as I now have more empathy for my own parents, I am consumed by the fear that in the most important venture in my life, I will fail. So when my daughter was just a baby, I started writing a journal to her. Over the pages, I tell her how much I love her, how much she means to me, how she has changed my life, and own up when I make mistakes. My hope is that one day when she is grown up, this journal will allow her to extend me some grace for the failures I know I will make. It is a strange conversion. As a child, I did not find hope a useful thing. But now that I have my own, I often feel as if hope is all that I have." By Alexander Sacks, MD + Catherine Birndorf, MD| May 9, 2019 Photo: Michelle Kondrich"Thoughts like these are completely normal, but many new moms feel ashamed of having them. Here’s how to let go of self-judgment and too-high expectations, from reproductive psychiatrists Alexandra Sacks and Catherine Birndorf.
I’ve have been working in women’s mental health for the past decade and my mission has been to educate people about the identity shift that occurs with motherhood, a phase called “matrescence.” Like adolescence, this developmental transition is hormonal, physical and emotional — all at the same time. But unlike adolescence, this transition hasn’t been part of the public discourse, and new mothers often end up judging themselves for these natural feelings. Of course, this conversation also includes the transitions of fathers, partners, and non-birthing parents. To cover the experience of matrescence from pregnancy through motherhood, I coauthored (with reproductive psychiatrist Catherine Birndorf, MD) the new book What No One Tells You; below is an excerpt. If you’re interested in learning more about the subject and hearing real women’s stories, I invite you to listen to my new podcast “Motherhood Sessions,” where I sit down with mothers and share therapeutic conversations about guilt, perfectionism and many other human struggles. My hope is that by reducing stigma and shame around these topics we can all start to better understand the mothers in our lives — whether it’s yourself or someone you know and love. —Alexandra Sacks, MD We often hear moms whisper in hushed tones something they’d never tell their friends or partner: “Sometimes I wish I had my old life back.” Or they wonder, “Am I a bad mother because sometimes I’d rather take a nap than nurse my baby?” These ambivalent thoughts are completely natural, yet many moms feel ashamed of them. We call this the push and pull of motherhood — sometimes you’ll feel pulled toward your baby’s needs and your identity as a mother, and sometimes you’ll want to push it all away. Motherhood, like all complex experiences, is a mix of both positive and negative. Loving your child doesn’t change the fact that sometimes the work of caretaking is not fun. Yet for many moms, admitting that there are moments, days or weeks when you want a break is scary, because it can make you ask yourself: “Am I trapped with this feeling forever? What if I made a mistake? Does this mean I don’t love my baby?” Ambivalence comes up when you find your attention is pushed away from your baby to care for yourself and others in your life, and you don’t know how to make it all work. With every choice, someone gets shortchanged. How are you not going to feel guilty about leaving a meeting at work to go to the pediatrician? Or sleeping an extra 15 minutes while your baby is fussing, only to find him lying in spit-up? And what about when you’re with the baby but really thinking about returning a friend’s call, replying to a work email, eating dinner with your partner, or sleeping?" How to shift your mind-set from giving so much of yourself to others. By Pooja Lakshmin| May 5, 2020 Photo: Dadu Shin"I was teaching a group of new mothers a few years ago how to recognize postpartum depression and anxiety when a woman raised her hand. “My work is letting me take an extra two weeks of paid maternity leave. I don’t know what to do. I feel bad if I take it. My team will have to pick up the slack. I feel bad if I don’t. I’d be giving up precious time with my daughter.” I responded, “Is there any option you wouldn’t feel bad about taking?”
As a perinatal psychiatrist who takes care of women coping with the transition to motherhood, I meet mothers who lean into their guilt like it’s a security blanket and hold up their self-sacrifice as a badge of honor. Adopting a martyr identity doesn’t always correlate to clinical depression or anxiety. It’s a role that women can inhabit even without a diagnosable mental health condition. I don’t blame those mothers for shielding themselves under a cloak of suffering. Appearing too well adjusted can be a liability. Leaving your kids in the car for three minutes to get a coffee can be grounds for a call to Child Protective Services and daring to bottle-feed your baby without trying to breastfeed can lead to criticism from strangers. In 1996 Sharon Hays, Ph.D., a sociologist, coined the term “intensive mothering” to describe parenting that is “child-centered, expert-guided, emotionally absorbing, labor-intensive and financially expensive.” Two decades later, the mental load describes the invisible labor that goes into running a family. We still find ourselves living in a world where most mothers, even while working outside the home, bear the brunt of household work. The coronavirus pandemic only seems to be intensifying that pressure." Postpartum is already changing. What about during COVID-19? By Margaret M. Quinlan, Ph.D., Bethany Johnson, MPhil, M.A.| April 22,2020 "Maggie and I are both fascinated by social media discourse, and particularly any conversations that center around bodies and health crises. We've researched the infertility community on Instagram (Bethany never thought to turn to Instagram during treatment), and then we had to make an account for work. This was a very awkward endeavor for us (trained academics who don't have experience marketing our research), but the upside is we've met some incredible people. Today we are interviewing Chelsea Skaggs of Postpartum Together. Not only does she have an excellent Instagram account with relatable, vulnerable images, but she fosters necessary dialogue about the difficulties of the postpartum period, and she runs an online group for newly postpartum folks. We began by discussing COVID-19 and the postpartum experience, then we asked about her work. As someone who works with postpartum women, how do you think COVID-19 is changing postpartum experiences right now? We are seeing a lot of changes for women who are entering postpartum during this season. First of all, many women are grieving the loss of a picture they had in their mind—from the birth experience to bringing baby home to meet the family to have more in-person support. We must have permission and space to grieve that loss while also holding the gratitude women have for this time of their lives. (I remind people that grief and gratitude are not mutually exclusive!) We have to get more creative with support—how do we stay connected to friends and family and other aspects that make women feel like themselves? Postpartum can be an isolating time already, so adding on social distancing means women need, more than ever, more access to virtual supports and resources to keep them connected. On the flip side, some women have the chance to embrace the slow-down of postpartum. So many other cultures prioritize a slow transition, and in America, we are typically more fast-paced. With COVID-19, many women have the chance to step back, slow down, and have that time to rest and restore while having intimate time with the immediate family." "How are you and your family doing in all this?
Every day is different for us. I know personally having things I can't control is an anxiety trigger, so I have been extra mindful to carve out time for joy and being present. I am also tempted to measure my value in how productive I am, and right now, my brain needs a lot more time to restore (more sleep and downtime), and I've had to challenge the belief I've held all my life about productivity. It has been very introspective. Some days feel heavy—seeing the impact on our family, our friends, and extended family, but it also feels so refreshing to be living with fewer complications. The pandemic allows us to remove some of the stressors our family was falling into that aren't part of our values; ultimately, we have "sifted out" things, and I appreciate that. I wish it weren't because of such tough circumstances." By Allana Akhtar| February 7, 2020 Photo: Finland Prime Minister Sanna Marin just approved 7 months of parental leave for both parents. Reuters. "Finland may have made a significant move in reducing postpartum depression among new moms.
The country's government, led by 34-year-old Prime Minister Sanna Marin, will give both new parents seven months of parental leave after childbirth. Pregnant women get an additional month of leave before giving birth. The updates will replace the country's current policy that provides gender-based pay for four months for new mothers and two months for new fathers, according to NPR. The new policy will go into effect in 2021. Marin says the move will improve gender equality and is part of her government's plan to pass wide-sweeping social reforms. Marin is the youngest female prime minister in the world, and a majority of her cabinet members are women. Along with giving fathers more time with their newborns, the progressive policy can improve new mothers' physical and mental health, research suggests, and prevent postpartum depression. Research finds that having both partners at home after childbirth improves a new mom's anxiety and wellbeing. While everybody is focused on the baby after it's born, mothers are acutely at risk. Worldwide, 17.7% of new mothers experience postpartum depression. While the potential causes of maternal distress are many, new research on Sweden suggests that simply having fathers more available to help out with the newborn can lead to huge gains in mental health for mothers. Sweden has Europe's most generous parental leave, NPR reported, at 240 days per parent. Mothers are 14% less likely to visit a doctor for childbirth-related complications when fathers are present for the first few of a baby's life. They are also 11% less likely to require antibiotic prescriptions, and 26% less likely to need anti-anxiety medication. The new National Bureau of Economics working paper, authored by Stanford economists Petra Persson and Maya Rossin-Slater, focused on the impact of parental leave policies in the Nordic country, which offers some of the world's most generous parental leave." By Allison Aubrey| February 4, 2020 Photo: Chelsea Beck, NPR"Have you ever noticed how tough it is to be present? We spend so much time planning and worrying about the future or dwelling on the past.
"We're in a trance of thinking. We're time traveling," says Tara Brach, a world-renowned psychologist and mindfulness teacher. "We're in the future, we're in the past." And all this ruminating gets in the way of enjoying life — we can miss out on the good stuff. If you reflect on your life, Brach asks, how often can you sense that the fear of failing or not being good enough "was in some way dampening or contracting or pulling you away from real intimacy or spontaneity or enjoying a sunset?" Life Kit host Alison Aubrey spoke with Brach about her latest book, Radical Compassion: Learning to Love Yourself and Your World with the practice of RAIN. The book outlines the mindfulness tool, RAIN, an acronym for a four-step process: recognize, allow, investigate and nurture. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. What is mindfulness at its core. Can you describe mindfulness in a sentence or two? Mindfulness is paying attention to what's happening in the present moment without judgment. What is the purpose? What is the benefit of paying attention to the present moment? We step out of our thoughts about the past and the future, and we actually start occupying a space of presence that is bigger than the particular emotions or thoughts that are going on. Mindfulness gives us more choice as to how we want to experience things, what we want to say, what we want to do. So instead of reacting, we can actually respond from more intelligence, more kindness. It actually lets us inhabit our best selves." |
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