Content note: this article contains discussions of miscarriage that readers may find upsetting.

It’s amazing how mainstream breathwork has become in the past few years. Once the preserve of yogis and meditation experts, you can now find breathwork podcasts on BBC Sounds and pranayama classes at most yoga studios. 

Breathwork boasts a lot of benefits, but really, it all comes down to turning your intention inward and using the speed and depth of your in- and exhales to change how your body feels and reacts. And despite having done yoga for well over a decade, as well as being an avid Wim Hof devotee, I had no idea how powerful dedicating time to breathing could be for body image and self-confidence until I went on a 24-hour breathwork retreat at Down Hall in Hertfordshire.

A couple of months before, I’d had a miscarriage. And while gruesome and disappointing, it wasn’t wholly unexpected (one in four pregnancies end in baby loss). I gritted my teeth through the painful, bloody bits and then pushed to get back to normal. I didn’t want to dwell on what I saw as a wasted three months – I wanted to get back to feeling my usual, energetic self. But while it didn’t take that long to go back to work or start running again, my body image continued to decline for weeks after the initial process was over.

I couldn’t face looking in the mirror or catching a glimpse of my body naked (which is unusual as I spend a lot of time showering in communal gym changing rooms). My clothes all looked wrong and I felt horrible walking from the lido lockers to the pool in just a swimming costume. My diet hadn’t changed, I hadn’t consumed any alcohol in over 12 weeks and I was back to exercising, but I felt hugely embarrassed that I no longer looked like me.

And then the Down Hall retreat popped up. Unlike other retreats I’ve been on, which are all about pushing you to your physical and mental limits, this one had a refreshingly short and simple itinerary: turn up on the Friday afternoon for a spa treatment and then enjoy an hour’s breathwork workshop. After that, guests would dine together before relaxing in a sound bath. Saturday morning was for yoga, breakfast and a woodland walk. It all sounded gentle and relaxing and, importantly, would mean spending 24 hours in a sumptuous hotel surrounded by nature.

So, I turned up and went straight to the spa for a 30-minute back, neck and shoulder massage – the perfect way to detach from busy London life. And after that, I went straight to the breathwork room.

Led by Camilla Sheeley, yoga teacher, sound healer, wellness coach and founder of Glow Wellness Events, the weekend was aimed at anyone curious about getting into wellness. Never done yoga or not that mobile? She’ll give you seated options. Not sure you can concentrate through a 90-minute sound bath? All she asks is that you lie there.  

Knowing that the weekend was geared towards all levels but was especially welcoming to beginners, I wasn’t sure quite how much I’d get out of the breathwork workshop. A few months ago, my husband and I went on a super-intense Wim Hof retreat, which saw us holding our breath for over three minutes umpteen times a day and enjoying all the weird tingling sensations caused by controlled hyperventilation (not to be tried at home!). 

Nevertheless, I took my place on a mat and agreed to be open to anything. We began by simply becoming aware of our breath before Sheeley got us breathing in for a count of four and breathing out for six – one hand on the belly, the other on the heart. I never cry during yoga – I never feel anything that deep during exercise – but after about 10 minutes of this very gentle breathing practice, I was on the verge of tears.  

Breathwork is often used to release stuck emotions and promote emotional regulation, and while there’s no concrete answer as to why we might feel more sensitive after a session, a lot of it has to do with the parasynthetic nervous system and the body’s ability to release stress. 

Think about it: when you’re stressed, you tend to shallow breathe or hold your breath without even realising. You could be doing that all day or all month; a bit of bloating, fatigue or the need to sigh could be your only signs. Conversely, if you’re trying to calm someone who’s crying hysterically, you might ask them to do some deep breathing, focusing on lengthening the exhale. That release is a pain killer and slows the heart rate. After a traumatic period of pain and stress, perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that breathwork would have a more profound impact.

And in my case, I think a lot of that emotion was even more surface-level: that workshop was the first time that I’d willingly touched my own stomach since leaving A&E. It didn’t matter that I was in a room full of strangers, sitting on the floor miles from home. I felt safer in my own body than I had before. 

The session then moved on to a more energising breath practice that I used to do at the end of every hot yoga session (and hated). At my very fittest, I’d do hot yoga at least once a week; I enjoyed the poses but struggled with kapalbhati (skull shining breath), which involves taking very short, fast breaths in and out of the nose then mouth. I’d always fall behind or start to feel dizzy before the end. 

Sheeley walked us through the process, and this time, I was able to complete the set easily. It’s a brilliant breathing technique to learn: not only is it energising and mood-lifting, but it’s also great for digestion and endorphin production. This time, instead of simply holding my belly with my hand, I could feel my abs working to push air out and drag it back in, which served as an excellent reminder of how strong that area is.

The rest of the retreat passed in a peaceful haze. The sound bath was dreamy and was followed by squares of intense dark chocolate and mint tea, while the Saturday yoga was probably the most inclusive class I’ve ever been to. Quite a few people from the local area came to join in with the flow and it was brilliant to see such a diversity of yogis coming together to move so early on the weekend.

When we finally departed, I left amazed at how impactful such a short stay had been. It wasn’t just the amazing bed, the delicious vegan food at Down Hall or the wonderful onsite spa. That breathwork class marked the start of the mental recovery process – and it’s convinced me more than ever that our breath holds more power than we think.

The next Breathwork Weekend at Down Hall is in April. Prices start from £205.

If you’re struggling with miscarriage or baby loss, you’ll find lots of support on the Tommy’s website.

Images: Getty; Down Hall