In pregnancy, I need Mum more than ever
As she enters her third trimester, Sky News presenter Sarah-Jane Mee laments the loss of normal family life
Last week was meant to be so different: a babymoon to the Caribbean with my fiancé, Ben, to celebrate the start of my third trimester, as we’re expecting our first child together. But like so many families our plans – in fact, our whole lives – changed on Monday when the Prime Minister announced an end to all non-essential travel and, more importantly, that us pregnant women are now in the “at risk” group. I would have to avoid social contact for up to 12 weeks.
Being pregnant for the first time can make you feel vulnerable in all sorts of new and unexpected ways. But I could never have imagined something like this. I’m now in a group that includes over-70s and those with underlying health conditions. People like my mum.
So here I am, on Mother’s Day, unable to see my own mum, Lynda, when I’m about to become a mother myself.
I’m lucky that we only live half an hour apart – me in London, her in Essex – and, if I’m honest, I’m starting to realise how much I have taken that for granted. It feels so poignant, frankly upsetting, that we won’t be able to go out for lunch today, as we would normally on Mother’s Day, or treat her to the things we “shouldn’t have”, and get her giddy on bubbles.
Mum, who is 71, has a weakened immune system and is always the first one to pick up any kind of bug. It’s hard to know what to do. What if I have Covid-19 without any symptoms and give it to her?
I want Mum to be able to put her hands on my tummy. I want to chat to her
If I don’t see her for the next 12 weeks, that will take me to the end of my pregnancy – just at the time when I need her the most for hugs, advice and cups of tea. I want to share this experience with her and create a different sort of bond between us.
Even sitting on my sofa, today, the baby dished out its first kung-fu kick. I want Mum to be able to put her hands on my tummy. I want to chat to her, over her favourite Bakewell tarts, about how on earth to become a mother myself.
As well as being a daughter and a mother-to-be, I’m also a stepmother to six-year-old Teddy. But being labelled as “at risk” – and with my fiancé, his dad, having had cold-like symptoms for the past few days – we don’t know whether we should see him, either.
Teddy is lucky to have two loving homes, so he is safe and well with his own mum and nana on Mother’s Day. But the thought of not seeing him for 12 weeks – right before his new little brother or sister arrives
– is heartbreaking. And if we do see him, does that totally rule out seeing my mum? I feel as though I have to choose between them. The chain of possible infection that we are all finding ourselves in is mind-boggling.
Just writing that makes me burst into tears and his dad is struggling with the mere thought of not seeing Teddy – let alone the reality.
Ben runs businesses in London and has had to send everyone home to work from their front rooms, with no certainty about the future. Like households up and down the country,
I’m there for him as he supports his workforce. He now faces 12 weeks’ isolation just to keep me safe. The impact it could have on his business, and family, is hard to describe.
As for me – this is the worst time imaginable not to be at work, as a Sky News presenter with my own afternoon show. Under normal circumstances, I’d be on the other side of the screen, keeping everyone up-to-date. I’ll admit, I desperately want to be there. These sorts of stories are what news teams live for – to inform, educate and provide some perspective, as well as reassurance, on what is probably the biggest event we have faced in this country since the Second World War.
I had planned on presenting right up until my due date, at the end of June. Now, I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll be able to go back into the studio. My bosses are supportive, but the priority is to keep us safe. So, like so many, I will have to find a new way of working from home – or face the longest maternity leave in history.
Believe me, I know we have it so much easier than a lot of people – the front-line NHS workers facing an invisible enemy, the many workers who lost their jobs overnight, and the families who won’t make rent.
We all have different battles. Right now, being a new mum in these unsettled times is mine.
I need to see my midwife and go to hospital appointments, and while the official advice is to attend as normal, I can’t help feeling that it’s like walking into the eye of the storm.
There is so much to learn and I definitely need help. I’m sure arrangements will be made for Zoom or Skype, but I was secretly looking forward to making new mum friends (despite rolling my eyes whenever anyone mentioned it) and every mother I speak to says that network is vital in the first few months. We’ve been told to act like we have coronavirus, not like we are trying not to catch it, but that involves missing out on the most social and fun part of pregnancy – the bit where you browse the shops, move house (did I mention we’re supposed to do that in three weeks?) and see loved ones. What did feel like the most exciting final chapter of this journey suddenly feels pretty perfunctory and lonely.
I’m trying as best I can to look after my mental health and stay positive, which has meant rationing social media. Being at home with so much time on my hands, it would be easy to disappear down the rabbit hole that is #coronavirus. My advice is to limit yourself to only reading advice from official sources, news outlets and that shows how you can help others.
Try to cut out the rest of the online noise. Ignore the pictures of empty shelves, lockdown rumours and fake prevention techniques – it only causes anxiety and makes all this far worse in the isolated space we now occupy.
I’m giving myself a couple of windows each day to check in, see what is happening, and then get out. There will be a huge psychological effect of all of this on all of us.
Of course, there will be lighter moments. Such as our FaceTime with Ted, who announced rather importantly that “it is scientific fact that if there were no horses in the world there would be no love”. My dad learning how to send GIFs, which are mainly cats freaking out at people sneezing. Or persuading Ben to do pregnancy yoga with me because he is THAT bored – and yes, those videos did go up on social media, because we all need a laugh.
As our community increasingly moves online, it’s these moments of laughter and kindness that are getting us through.
So today, on Mother’s Day, instead of our usual lunch, flowers and cards, we’re going to have a virtual family gathering (if I’ve managed to teach Mum and Dad how to use Zoom). We will chat and raise a glass in separate houses, but very much together. What is keeping me going is the thought that, next year, we’ll both be celebrating together under one roof as happy and healthy mums – one new, and one proud grandmother. To me, that will be worth the wait.
Going to hospital feels like walking into the eye of the storm