by Amina Babirye in Culture & Lifestyle on 11th August, 2026

When I was pregnant with my first child, I tried to prepare myself as much as possible. I read so many books, watched so many birth vlogs. I took birthing classes, I practised breathing, I made the birth plan. I was, by any reasonable measure, a woman who had done her homework.
Then I was induced, and my homework set itself on fire.
Everything I had so carefully assembled – the mindset, the techniques, the tools, the laminated plan (yes, it was laminated to make it waterproof) evaporated the moment labour decided to show up on its own terms. The anxiety, the adrenaline, the exhaustion, the excitement and the pain that felt like all of the earth’s gravity was being pulled through my bones – none of it left any space for the things I had learned. I forgot it all. Not gradually. Instantly.
What I did not forget was Allah ﷻ.
In that space between worlds, and any woman who has been through childbirth knows precisely the space I mean, the only thing that rose up through the noise was du’a. Not a technique. Not a visualisation. Not a single thing from the folder I had colour-coded. Just me, calling on my Rabb, seeking His forgiveness, begging for His mercy. And alhamdulillah, we made it. My son arrived, and I was grateful in a way that no word I know is big enough for.
But I have been sitting with that experience ever since. Because what became clear to me in that labour room is that my preparation had been thorough and incomplete at the same time. I had prepared my body. I had prepared my mind. I had not, in any meaningful way, prepared my soul.
Now I am planning for my second, and I want to try something different. I know more this time. I have fewer illusions and, crucially, no laminated plan to mourn. To be clear, planning around the practical, physical realities of birth still matters, and women can and should keep doing it. But I want that to sit alongside something else: to be rooted, mentally, physically, and spiritually, in a way that means when the plan inevitably does something unexpected, what rises to the surface is intentional rather than instinctive, which is what led me to Islamic hypnobirthing.
First things first: hypnobirthing has nothing to do with being hypnotised into thinking you are a chicken. Nobody is coming at you with a swinging watch. You will not wake up confused.
Hypnobirthing is a method of birth preparation that uses relaxation, breathing techniques, visualisation, and mindset work to help women approach labour with less fear and more calm. The core premise is rooted in the work of Dr Grantly Dick-Read, who in the 1940s proposed that fear causes tension, and tension causes pain, what is now known as the fear-tension-pain cycle. When we are frightened, our muscles tighten, our adrenaline surges, and our bodies essentially fight the very process they are designed to perform.
Hypnobirthing works to interrupt that cycle, replacing fear with knowledge, tension with breath, and panic with presence.
Partners are also actively involved, which means it is not just a tool for the birthing person, but a shared practice for the whole family. When you weave Islamic principles into that foundation, tawakkul (trust in Allah), sabr (patience), and the incredible spiritual status of the labouring woman in Islam, what you get is something that does not just prepare your body, but grounds your soul.
The conventional hypnobirthing world is not without its complications for Muslim women. Visualisations often ask you to “connect with the universe” or “find your inner goddess.” The music is frequently panpipes and ambient sounds that feel, to put it diplomatically, a bit chakra-adjacent.
Islamic hypnobirthing, by contrast, is built from the ground up with Islamic theology at its centre. Breathing techniques may be paired with specific adhkar (remembrance of Allah). Visualisations draw on Qur’anic imagery, gardens, flowing water, light. The miraculous experience of Maryam AS, who laboured alone under a palm tree and was sent sakeenah and provision from Allah, is often explored as a source of profound reflection and strength for Muslim mothers.
“Islamic hypnobirthing is rooted in tawakkul, ibadah, sabr, amanah, haya and fitrah, concepts well known in Islam but rarely linked to birth preparation in the UK,” says Hajera, a UK-based midwife and founder of Muslim Hypnobirthing®, the UK’s Muslim birth preparation programme.
“The core techniques are often similar to a conventional course, but the language and framework differ. Conventional hypnobirthing tends to root relaxation and visualisation in psychology and neuroscience, and some courses lean on a generalised source like ‘the universe’ or ‘energy.’ Islamic hypnobirthing adds one thing conventional courses don’t: purification of the heart. The affirmations and visualisations are linked to Allah’s mercy. The relaxation methods are dhikr, Qur’an recitation and du’a, and the mother and father decide which du’as, ayat and dhikr resonate with them.”
“Lastly, there’s something in the Islamic hypnobirthing course that I think is the most important part of all,” she adds. “Amanah with tawakkul. I teach Muslim women how to protect their bodily autonomy, their birth rights, advocacy and informed consent. I even teach useful conversation prompts that aim to reduce the chances of facing coercion, bullying, system discrimination, Islamophobia and racism in maternity care. Hugely uncomfortable but necessary to learn. I can only hope a Muslimah will not encounter discrimination, but it is always good to be prepared. When you make decisions that are all for the sake of pleasing Allah ﷻ, then that’s all that matters. But you need evidence-based information and non-judgemental guidance for this.”
Islamic hypnobirthing also speaks directly to something many Muslim women carry into the birth room: the understanding that pain in childbirth is not punishment, but expiation. The Prophet ﷺ said that no fatigue, sorrow or hurt befalls a Muslim, even the prick of a thorn, without Allah expiating some of their sins for it (Bukhari). For Muslim women, reframing labour within this understanding is not naive positivity; it is theologically grounded transformation.
As Hajera’s client said, “I’m someone from a healthcare background who was somewhat sceptical of hypnobirthing at first, but I trusted Hajera’s advice as a midwife with over ten years’ experience.”
I know what you what you are thinking. We are Muslim women. We ask the fiqh questions first and download the app later.
The short answer: yes. Hypnobirthing does not involve any beliefs or practices that contradict Islamic theology when taught through an Islamic framework. There is no seeking of supernatural forces outside of Allah, no practices that compromise aqidah, and no trance states in which a person loses consciousness or agency, which would be the primary Islamic concern with anything involving the mind.
“I only ever facilitate reflection on ayat, du’a and dhikr,” says Hajera. “I don’t use hadith in my teaching, and I’ve kept the content anchored strictly to the Qur’an and the names of Allah for that reason.”
But permissibility is only the first question. The second is how deeply that theology is actually woven in, and this is where practitioners vary. For Hajera, Islam isn’t a layer added on top of the birth prep; it’s built into the structure of every session.
“Islamic theology is not separate in my sessions,” she says. “I don’t teach birth preparation and then move on to Islam; every session has Islamic reflection, practice and theory within it. When I teach the function of the uterus in labour, I also reflect on the fact that the womb is called rahm in the Qur’an. When I teach birth rights and informed consent, we discuss those rights through an Islamic lens of bodily autonomy. When I teach breastfeeding, we reflect on the ayah about it. And when I teach breathing, visualisation, affirmations and fear-release, Allah ﷻ is present in all the language I use. My guides, my audiobooks and my hypnobirthing tracks are built the same way; every reference is to the Qur’an, the names of Allah, and du’a, dhikr and adhkar.”
A client of Hajera’s shared, “My husband knew exactly what to do with Hajera’s clear lists, encouraging me to change positions, keeping my Qur’an playlist constantly playing, applying counterpressure just as she’d taught him.”
That’s worth holding onto when you’re choosing a practitioner: it’s not enough that a course avoids anything haram. The better question is whether Islam is woven through the whole thing, or bolted onto the side of it.
What Islamic hypnobirthing involves – controlled breathing, positive thinking, du’a, dhikr, knowledge of the birth process, partner involvement – are all things that are not only permissible but actively encouraged in our tradition. We are instructed to use the means available to us (asbab) while placing our trust in Allah.
Beyond the theology, the evidence base for hypnobirthing is genuinely compelling. Studies have found that hypnobirthing is associated with reduced anxiety in labour, lower rates of epidural use, shorter active labour, and higher rates of positive birth experiences.
A new mother shared,
“My labour story began at 40 weeks pregnant, when I felt reduced movements. I went into the hospital just for reassurance. A member of staff told me, ‘The plan is you don’t leave the hospital until you have the baby now.’ Having done Hajera’s course, I felt confident declining any induction. Her course empowered my husband and me to make that decision. Hajera’s MP3s helped me so much during my labour, along with everything she’d taught me, breathing techniques, rebozo, TENS machine, counterpressure from my husband. By the end of that day we went into hospital, where I had my first VE and was told I was “only” 2cm dilated and sent home. I was determined to stay at home as long as possible, just as Hajera had advised.”
A 2013 randomised controlled trial published in the British Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology found that self-hypnosis training helped women cope with labour pain. A separate study in the American Journal of Clinical Hypnosis found hypnosis interventions reduced women’s experience of pain during labour. And a 2016 Cochrane review of nine trials found that women who used hypnosis in labour were less likely to need pharmacological pain relief, though the review is also honest that the underlying studies varied a lot in how they measured pain, so the findings should be read as promising rather than definitive.
None of this means hypnobirthing is a guarantee of a pain-free birth. What it does mean is that how you enter the birth room, your mindset, your preparation, your nervous system, matters enormously.
And for Muslim women, having a framework that holds both the science and the spiritual is not a luxury. It is a need that is only just beginning to be met.
“It’s just for women who want a natural birth.” Not true. Hypnobirthing tools are equally valuable for inductions, caesareans, and high-risk pregnancies. Breathing techniques and mindset work are useful regardless of how your birth unfolds.
“It means you can’t have an epidural.” Absolutely not. Hypnobirthing is not an ideology. It is a toolkit. Whatever choices you make in that room are valid, and a good hypnobirthing practitioner will tell you the same.
“It only works if you really believe in it.” Partly true, but not in the way the sceptics mean. Every study shows that preparation and mindset affect outcomes. Believing that your body is capable and that Allah has designed you for this is not wishful thinking. It is informed faith.
“‘Hypnobirthing is haraam.’ ‘Hypnobirthing is for hippies who believe in astrology.’ ‘Hypnobirthing is only for unmedicated births,'” says Hajera, listing the objections she hears most. “I’m always glad when a woman is sceptical, it means she’s thinking for herself, and that’s a good thing. But then I ask her to do something about that scepticism and actually find out what hypnobirthing is. All of those misconceptions are untrue. Islamic hypnobirthing only ever involves Qur’anic reference, dhikr and du’a, every tool is anchored in Ar-Rahman and ibadah. And the idea that it only belongs to unmedicated births is outdated. I have plenty of past clients who’ve hypnobirthed through planned caesareans, epidurals and medically managed labours.”
A common assumption is that hypnobirthing is only for a first pregnancy, or that it’s too late once you’ve already had a difficult birth. Hajera sees the opposite, some of her most meaningful work is with second-time mothers carrying real fear from what happened the first time round.
“I’ve seen it be particularly powerful for exactly those women,” she says. “One mama came to me after a traumatic emergency caesarean and complications that made postpartum recovery and bonding really hard. It took her six years before she felt ready to have a second baby. She’d done a general hypnobirthing course the first time. This time she did the Muslim hypnobirthing signature weekend programme with her husband, and she had a successful VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean), most of her labour was at home, using hypnobirthing and non-pharmaceutical pain relief. She had an empowering birth. She looks back on it with joy now, and her recovery and bonding with the baby felt so much easier.”
“Another mama came to me after a forceps birth that led to rare postnatal complications. She was terrified of history repeating itself, and she wanted to properly understand her options, the pros and cons of spontaneous labour versus induction, so she could feel prepared rather than just hopeful. She did the signature weekend programme, made informed decisions, and declined induction. Her labour started spontaneously; she hypnobirthed at home for three days in early labour, then hypnobirthed again with an epidural once she was in hospital, and had a joyful birth. She messaged me the same day, elated. Her recovery was uncomplicated, and more than anything, it was a positive experience — for her, that mattered as much as anything else.”
The field is still growing, but practitioners are out there. When looking for a course or a practitioner, look for someone who:
Hajera puts it simply, as four things she tells every Muslim mother-to-be:
On her own approach, she’s direct, “It’s non-judgemental, holistic, calming and fun. Birth can feel joyful and hard at the same time, and I want couples to feel that. I share all the information so Muslim women can make the decisions that feel right for them, and I teach the traditional midwifery practices that increase the chances of the birth they want, while making sure their husbands are properly involved, not just present, in the birth room.”
When I had my son, I went in with good intentions, some breathing techniques I had loosely practised, a colour-coded folder of things I immediately forgot, and a lot of du’a. Alhamdulillah, we survived. But I will be honest with you: “surviving” is not the bar I am setting for next time.
What I know now that I did not know then is that there was a framework out there that could have held both things together: the preparation and the faith, the science and the sakeenah.
Allah ﷻ describes the sacrifice of the labouring mother in the Qur’an with extraordinary tenderness. Our tradition has always known that what happens in the labour room is not merely physical; it is spiritual, it is profound, and it is honoured.
Muslim hypnobirthing is one more way we are catching up to what our deen already understood.
So if you are expecting, or planning to be: it might be worth looking into. Not because it will guarantee you the birth you imagined; nothing can do that, but because you deserve to walk into that labour room as prepared as possible. Scientifically, that means understanding your body, your options, and what’s actually happening at each stage, rather than being caught off guard. Spiritually, it means having something steady to reach for when things move faster or differently than expected, so you’re not left scrambling for calm in the moment. That combination of knowledge and trust won’t remove every challenge, but it can help you meet whatever comes with greater confidence, peace, and resilience.
Amina Babirye is a global health advocate and Senior Advocacy Advisor driven by a passion for health and social justice. A nutritionist-turned-policy expert, she champions health equity while juggling career, family, and the beautiful chaos in between. She finds joy in cooking and sharing recipes—because food isn’t just nourishment, it’s a connection. Her writing unpacks the complexities of global health, nutrition, and women’s well-being, blending expertise with lived experience to challenge norms, spark conversations, and highlight the million things women navigate daily.