My life changed forever on February 11, 2012, the day my daughter Sofia was born. She has taught me and challenged me more in the last five weeks about mindfulness than I ever learned on a cushion with limited distractions. It’s easy to meditate in silence, when you are in control of your own schedule. These days my schedule is her schedule, which is still fairly unpredictable, and it’s rarely silent for very long. If I were to sit now to meditate, I’m almost certain I would fall asleep within seconds.
So how does one stay mindful as a new parent? I am not speaking as an expert, mind you, but as a fellow student going through a trial-by-fire, on-the-job training in both parenting and mindfulness. What I can say is that mindfulness has given me a foundation for how to relate to the nature of conflict, to my thoughts and emotions, and how to maintain equanimity in the face of change. It seems this is where the proverbial rubber meets the road.
In the beginning, new parents rely heavily on the books they’ve read, the Internet, medical professionals, and the advice of their family and friends on how to properly care for a new infant. Even though there is a vast library of resources available to new parents, your baby doesn’t have his or her personal owner’s manual. So you have to be present and pay attention. I quickly learned the difference between Sofie’s discomfort cry, “Eh. eh.” and her hungry cry, “ah-nah, ah-nah!” Being responsive to the needs of an infant is a here and now responsibility. Their happiness is elusive, just like their quasi smiles, which you must be fully present to have the privilege of witnessing. And by the same token, so is their distress. Thus, it is a mindfulness lesson in transience to be fully present for the pleasant parts as well as the painful parts, and everything in between.
It’s easy to slip into automatic pilot at 4:30 in the morning to make a bottle or change a diaper when you’re going on two hours of sleep. In this mode of thinking your mind pulls forth old scripts; habitual thinking from the past. In this passive state your mind follows the path of least resistance, and associations with pain, discomfort, and frustration come barreling forth. I recall thinking one night when she was too sleepy to fall asleep, “Why does she hate me?” Of course I knew she didn’t, but I was connecting with my sense of helplessness and frustration. And although my actions were gentle and calming on the outside, my insides were beginning to boil. That means my “gentle” outside was not coming from inner gentleness or tranquility, but in the service of fear; fear of my own inadequacy as a parent; fear of my physical limitations; fear of my negative evaluation of the situation. She did finally sleep. And in retrospect, my fears seem to have been the product of a passive mind on autopilot, rather than an intentionally mindful one. How different our experience might have been if my outward gentleness was a direct outpouring of my inner calm.
The real challenge is that this parenting gig is a constant and relentless one. There is little respite from the ongoing responsibility of caring for a fragile newborn. One must draw on the support of outside help, like family and friends, a spouse, or perhaps a nanny. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be a single parent with no outside resources. But even these external supports are often not enough. We must find a way to tap into our inner reserves, and nurture ourselves so that we maintain the optimal mental, emotional, and physical health required to provide 24/7 care to another wholly dependent individual. Mindfulness provides a practical way to reduce stress and minimize the clutter of an anxious mind so that one is better prepared to take on necessary stressors associated with being a full-time caretaker.
You might think it would be reasonable to be able to take a shower or eat a meal when you want to, but you’d be wrong. She doesn’t care about reasonable. And while reason is often upheld as a virtue of modern thought, we are wise to hold it lightly. There are truths that cannot be reached through rational means and can only be touched in states of openness and vulnerability. Expectations come out of reason. It’s not that we shouldn’t have expectations, but we should hold them lightly. For myself, I expected to continue my meditative practice every morning, to eat healthy foods at regular intervals, to sleep, to work from home with minimal distraction, to never get frustrated with the baby, to be a supportive husband without sacrificing connection and intimacy in my marriage, and a whole slew of expectations I had for my child, like not waking up the second I put her down. It’s not that my expectations are foolish or unreasonable. It’s just that if I try to fit my life into those rigid and self-created parameters 100% of the time, I am guaranteed to be disappointed and fall short. Real life happens outside my expectations, or is at least ambivalent to them. Often times life happens outside of what I consider reasonable. Being mindful is being open to and fully accepting of what is, whether or not it fits my mold.
Sofia means “wisdom.” And to date, she has been my wisest teacher, a powerful Zen master from birth. She is a mirror that reveals my ego, my attachments, and reminds me to continually let go and let be. She touches a truth inside of me that tears down any pretense like a house of cards. She inspires me to dig deeper. She is my own personal Buddha.