Being a pregnant healthcare worker during a global pandemic

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how concerned are you about this COVID virus?” - a question from a non-medical friend in early March. I was managing a busy emergency list, and my answer didn’t fully encompass a properly dedicated thought process. A little later, reports started coming out of Italy about how the virus was affecting their healthcare system, and I realised, that oh, oh dear. 

I was around 25 weeks pregnant, working full time on a busy general on call rota in a trauma centre in London. Suffering from 24-hour sickness, being at work was a welcome distraction and a challenge. A few weeks later, the first COVID cases started to be reported in the UK. It still seemed like a distant risk, but one that was coming. Reported cases of COVID in pregnancy had been reassuring. I found myself focusing on the Public Health England case report website, weighing up my risk in my head. As the case numbers increased, I adjusted my self-risk assessment. I spoke to my managers and occupational health, but no one had very clear advice except that from Public Health England: to wash my hands more often. I searched for more robust guidelines but was working with an unknown. The first patient was diagnosed in the hospital and a close friend became unwell. I started to rationalise my decisions in my head, “I’m young! I’m healthy! I’m female”...but the little voice in the background said... “yes and pregnant”. I struggled with wanting to be at work, with my friends and colleagues, my professional identity. People around me kept saying little things that stuck in my head, “you stay safe”, and “you need to look after yourself”. My husband started to tactfully hint that maybe work wasn’t the safest place for me to be.

I attended antenatal classes and listened to how other expectant mothers wanted their labour room to be lit, smell and sound. I could feel my own thoughts bubbling up, “what is labour ward going to be like? What about potentially not having a birthing partner allowed?” COVID wasn’t on their radar yet but I could feel it looming. Not wanting to say anything and ruin it for others, I cried to myself walking home in the rain.

The government announced high-risk groups late March, which included pregnancy, but that healthcare workers should continue to work. I found this conflicting. To me, intubating unknown potential carriers was high risk. Luckily a few days later the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists released a guideline advising healthcare workers over 28 weeks pregnant to have no patient contact and to socially distance. I felt much more comfortable removing myself from clinical work, as it wasn’t my decision. I had not contemplated the effect that contracting COVID would have on the maternity services. I suddenly felt terrible for the midwives having to deliver babies in a hot labour room in full PPE. 

I didn’t think I was unduly stressed or worried about COVID while I was at work. Later I reflected that I had been quite tearful and snappy at my husband. Once at home, I made a conscious decision to keep a workday structure. I am at my desk working at 8am. I have completed guidelines, wellbeing initiatives, educational supervision and online shopping during my breaks. Home working is definitely not for me. I’m finding that I’m worrying about things that wouldn’t even cross my mind if I was focused on clinical work. The emotional trauma of John Lewis not having that particular elephant in stock is ridiculous, but real. I wonder if lockdown will be over for my family to visit the baby. The things I miss most about not being at work are feeling useful, laughing, seeing friends and feeling like part of a team. Whatsapp, zoom etc have been fantastic for my connection to reality, support networks and sanity.

Mariese Cooper