I’ve had a couple of pregnancy blogs in my drafts for a while, but they can wait because I think I need to do this one next.

Trigger Warning: A big dip in mental health.

About 6 weeks ago, I got what felt like a couple of sudden and debilitating pregnancy symptoms: anxiety and depression.

A brief history: I first went on medication during my curacy as I learned to deal with the highs and lows of ministry and work with people who had different working styles to me. When I fell pregnant with Sophia in 2020, I came off them straight away. There were some risks, albeit small, to the baby and I figured that I’d be all over the place anyway, so I may as well stop my meds.

I went back on them again within a couple of months of Sophia being born when I began to struggle with the overwhelm of motherhood and the shed loads of conflicting unsolicited advice. I slowly adjusted, went back to work, changed my job and six months later, once I was truly thriving again, asked my Doctor if I could come off them.

So I’ve managed well over a year with no medication at all. Have I felt anxious during that time? Yes. Have I felt down? Yes. But I’ve had perspective and been able to deal with it, and it has passed.

So I was very surprised when I seemed to plummet so late in my pregnancy. You’re supposed to struggle at the beginning, aren’t you? Don’t the mood swings calm down once the placenta is fully developed in the second trimester?

But no. Here I was, unless I was leading worship or with Sophia (and sometimes not even then), I was crippled with anxiety and unable to function. A variety of different circumstances led me to believe that I was nobody’s priority, everybody else too busy or involved with their own thing to see that I was sinking beneath the waves, or to give me the support I needed in this pregnancy.

Add to that the strain of needing to find my own maternity cover for my time off and desperately not wanting to put any more on my amazing volunteers who already do so much, yet knowing that some of this stuff needed delegating. I have also done more childcare this summer, which has added pressure to all the rest of my work.

I have also been trying to lead church through some big conversations over summer and I felt big pressure to get these conversations absolutely right, even though it was the very last thing I wanted, or had the capacity, to do.

And then, knowing how much other people long to be pregnant, how much some women would gladly take this symptom in exchange for their pain, made me feel guilty and ashamed. I’m not sure I will be pregnant again, and I wanted to enjoy it, but I just couldn’t.

A perfect storm, really.

Eventually, it all came tumbling out to Nathan one night, and not a moment too soon, because the next morning we went to see our midwife. I said I was struggling and in the mental health quiz, I scored as high as you can for anxiety and got a personal best for depression.

This has set me on a path of being referred to different teams and medical professionals. At various points it’s been suggested that I get signed off. But, although church has added significantly to how I’ve been feeling, at the same time, my one consistent place of joy has been leading worship. How could I agree to be removed from that?

In the end, I had a few days away at my Mum and Dad’s. I didn’t stop working, I actually worked more, but being away from the house where all the baby stuff needed sorting, and church where there’s a lot going on, I managed to make a big dint in my To Do list.

In apologising to my predecessor that I was slow in replying to an email due to a week with some tricky appointments, she offered to take the Sunday morning services for me, which was a big help.

Talking to people more openly about it has helped too. These things can be so taboo. I’ve been amazed at the team of people who have been ready to listen, support, help and direct me to what I need. We’ve just got three weeks until due date now, so working out what longer term support for me might look like is a bit tricky, but I think I’m in the hands of the right people.

After that slightly lighter week, I’ve managed to steady the boat a bit and I’m hoping to make it to the finish line and start my leave as near to baby coming as I can.

One moment in all this I will remember for the rest of my life was sitting on the edge of my bed, sobbing and unable to move for who knows how long. I really felt like I had nobody to lean on (on reflection, I do see that this isn’t true). But right then, I believed it. And then this kind, gentle presence just put his arm around my shoulder and said ‘I am here’. It was the biggest and most wonderful comfort. And that’s my faith. That’s my king. That’s my brother and my friend. That’s Jesus.

Anyway, I’m not really sure how to round off. It’s been a tricky few weeks but I’m starting to feel more myself again, enjoying the feeling of those kicks and getting things done. I’m going back on my meds to help see me over into those newborn days. I was living in fear of all those words, those unhelpful, unasked for words that come with having a baby. I hope the meds will help me shake it all off a bit.

I’m also hoping that my confidence will return, knowing that I’ve done this before and that it will be alright. My diary is easing off this week, which should allow me some time and space to start to enjoy the waiting and anticipation of the days to come.

Thank you for reading x