Hopes and fears of mums-to-be as coronavirus risks increase
Pregnant women are officially placed among the ‘vulnerable’ people who need to take more care than most during the coronavirus outbreak. Advice from individual health boards has changed on an almost daily basis, with women in some areas now being told the
Chiara Rinaldi, 36, is due in June with her second child. She’s from Porthcawl and lives in Cardiff.
This week I left the house for the first time in 11 days and finally saw all of the rainbows painted by my neighbours’ children. It was a sanctioned journey to the surgery for an appointment with my midwife.
I was quite shocked when Boris Johnson announced pregnant women were on the list of those who should start social distancing more than others. Up until then I had been reassured by what I’d read. Everything suggested we were at no more risk from the virus than anybody else, when the reality now seems to be that nobody knows.
That day, my pyjama bottoms went on permanently and a newly bought maternity bra went back in the drawer.
We made the difficult decision to take my fouryear-old out of school and childcare right away as, despite the official advice, it made no sense for me to lock myself indoors if she was out socialising with 100 other children.
My partner and I are both lucky enough that we can work from home, so the main challenge so far has been the stress of juggling our jobs with looking after our daughter. There is no downtime and it’s tiring. While some parents have been creating home school timetables, we’ve paid £13.99 to download Frozen 2, blown up the paddling pool and let her loose on the House Party app. But I’ve no doubt she’ll emerge unscathed.
This has certainly not been the pregnancy I imagined. I’ve never been one of those women who loves being pregnant. I’ve lost my appetite, my craving is wine and, just like the first time round, I spent the first trimester sick as a dog. When the sickness stopped in the second trimester, it was immediately replaced by a shattering family health diagnosis that was to take over life for some weeks. Then, the third trimester timed with the lockdown. At least his memory box will be interesting!
While I’m grateful for being pregnant, I haven’t had much time to think about it, which perhaps isn’t such a bad thing in the circumstances.
I’m not feeling anxious about catching coronavirus and I’m following all the rules to the letter and beyond. The appointment with my midwife left me far more reassured than any post I’ve read on Facebook. I won’t be treated like ET.
But hearing the news my partner may now not be allowed to stay with me during early labour or on the postnatal ward is upsetting. This is when you are at your most emotionally vulnerable and need them most.
My heart goes out to those giving birth for the first time, who will no doubt be scared by the prospect of being alone. Even in “normal” times, maternity wards are busy places where it can sometimes be hard to get attention or answers for what you need, while dealing with heightened hormones.
My greatest fear is the unknown. Nobody can predict the pressures the NHS will be facing in a few weeks as I get closer to my due date. Or perhaps it’ll all be over.
My family living in the epicentre of the pandemic in northern Italy have given me some hope. While their hospitals fight this crisis on an unprecedented scale, they’ve also somehow managed to provide my uncle with a kidney transplant and care for my young niece with a non-coronavirus related illness.
Ruth Mosalski, 32, is due in April with her first child. She lives in Cardiff. It’s just under two weeks since I left work on a halfday, fully expecting to see my colleagues again the following morning.
Ahead of our second antenatal class, we used the spring sunshine as an excuse to go to Barry Island, have a walk in the sun (and, obviously, eat chips). This was the first of many plans being scrapped – a sign on the door at Barry Hospital saying the class had been cancelled.
We stopped at B&Q on the way home to buy shelves for the nursery and as we left I had a wave of messages from people asking if I was OK. And that was it. I was now classed as high-risk, and should stay home.
By 10pm that night, my husband’s boss had (brilliantly) told him he too would be homeworking to protect me. We’re now housebound except for our daily walk which gets slower and slower as I get bigger and bigger and I spend a large percentage of time wondering if popping into our local shop for an ice cream is an essential trip out.
That same week, I had a midwife appointment at my GP surgery and a scan at the Heath hospital. Both were carried out in vastly different circumstances to normal, but I cannot adequately explain how brilliant the midwives have been at giving us information.
On good days, my answer to messages asking how we are is that we’re lucky, our baby is kicking away, we have a garden where I can sit in the sun and we’ve had tens of offers of help from friends, colleagues and neighbours. There is a fabulous Facebook group where midwives from all Welsh health boards are posting daily videos with the latest situation and a group of pregnant girls in a WhatsApp group sharing tips.
I’m still working, which is a brilliant distraction, but as my maternity leave creeps nearer, I’m worried about having too much time to think. While I’d initially moved my maternity leave forward slightly, I’ve now pushed it back just to keep myself busy.
Until this week, I’ve been pretty positive (with weepy moments) but that’s getting harder as the reality hits home. I’m trying not to think about what it could be like if this rolls into May, June or even beyond.
I’m hoping and praying the latest advice from my health board – that could see me go through at least some of labour alone – changes. I dread that my husband could miss any of those crucial hours during or after labour. And given the ever-changing circumstances, I know we just have to wait for the crucial moment to see what’s happening, but the answers we have right now are pretty scary.
Both of our families live hours away. I’m upset for them that they won’t see their grandchild, niece or nephew and cousin and for us that the help we knew we could rely on won’t be there. The classes and drop-ins that the girls told me would save me on bad days are all cancelled.
But, we’re trying to make the most of it. We know we’re incredibly lucky that, all being well, our team of two will soon become three and we’re going to have quite the first few weeks.
And as the child of two journalists, I guess we should have known this baby was always going to be a newsy one.