This story contains sensitive topics that may be triggering for some readers, including:
- Terminal illness and the loss of a parent
- Postnatal mental health struggles (including postnatal anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and PostNatal OCD)
- Experiences of grief and emotional distress
Please read with care and take breaks if you need to. If you’re currently struggling with your mental health, you’re not alone. Support is available through your GP, health visitor, or organisation such as NHS 111.
As part of our Love the Water campaign, we’re sharing the stories that sit at the very heart of Water Babies, the real, raw journeys of families whose time in the water has transformed life far beyond the pool. For many new parents, baby swimming classes become more than a place to learn skills, they become a sanctuary during the overwhelming early days of parenthood. Beverley’s story is one of those rare, powerful journeys. Through the challenges of an unexpected pregnancy, the weight of postnatal anxiety and intrusive thoughts, and the long road to understanding her postnatal OCD, she found an unexpected lifeline in Water Babies swimming lessons with her little boy, Rhys. Her story is a reminder that the water can offer confidence, connection, and moments of calm at a time when new mums often need it most.
An Unexpected Pregnancy
Hello. I’m Beverley, Bev to most people, but most importantly I’m Mummy to Rhys, and this is our story.
I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant. The test flashed ‘Pregnant 3+’ and I was in complete shock. I had never imagined that becoming a mum was part of my path. I loved children, but the idea of being responsible for shaping a little person’s entire childhood felt completely overwhelming. I wouldn’t say I wasn’t maternal, but I wouldn’t say I was either. I’d always pictured myself as the ‘cool aunty’, the one all the kids loved spending time with during the school holidays.
I enjoyed being able to take spontaneous trips abroad, had a very organised work life and an obsession with chasing the life I thought I wanted. But suddenly I was pregnant, and there was a whole little person completely relying on me. How was I supposed to make this work? Scared and terrified of the unknown, I kept it to myself for a while. And underneath it all was a heavy sense of guilt, because I didn’t believe I could ever be a good mum.
My Mum’s Diagnosis
her third cancer diagnosis in my life, but this time it felt entirely different. She looked at me and said, ‘This is it. I think I’m going to die this time. I always knew I was going to die young.’ I was heartbroken. Part of me kept thinking that my secret news could give her something to hold on to, a lifeline. But at the same time, I was still struggling to come to terms with it myself. I didn’t have the words to reassure her because she was always the positive one.
My mum was in and out of hospital, and I was struggling to stay awake, let alone keep up the momentum of what was usually a very fast paced life. On the 4th of June, she had an appointment with her oncologist to find out whether her treatment would continue or come to an end. I knew this was my opportunity. Whatever the outcome, I could either soften bad news or make good news even better. Thankfully, this time it was good news. The treatment had slowed her cancer, and she was doing really well. I gave my mum a scratch card (she thought I was about to announce an engagement!), and as she scratched it, her face filled with emotion, ‘She’s having a baby.’ We all cried together, shocked and overwhelmed, but my mum was absolutely delighted.
I remember that evening as clearly as the day I first found out. It felt happy but also incredibly heavy, because the news that day could have been so different. My mind began to race. Will she make it? What if she doesn’t? How can I be at the hospital when she needs me if I have a newborn? It became a constant cycle of wanting my baby but worrying about my mum. I felt selfish for wishing she would get better, just so we could all enjoy the baby news together.
A Pregnancy Driven by Anxiety
When I hit 30 weeks pregnant, I was so consumed by wanting to keep Rhys in my belly. I used to think it would just be easier if I stayed pregnant forever, or that’s how I felt. I was being monitored daily because of high blood pressure but, in my head, he was safe in my belly. I could keep him safe in there and we could both be at the hospital in a second if my Mum needed me.
Everyone thought I was crazy for wanting to stay pregnant but, to me, this was the only way I could keep him safe. I had changed my routine from regular gym classes to lengths of the pool where I would feel him kick. I would read my book sat beside my Mum’s hospital bed with her hand on my bump as he would kick. To me, this was safe. This was the only way I felt in control of my life throughout my pregnancy.
Just days before my induction date, which had already been brought forward, my mum became unwell and was told she might need an operation she may not survive. She was my birthing partner. She needed to be there. I had advocated so hard for a natural birth so she could share that moment with me. I remember my mind racing, selfishly thinking, we are so close, yet she may not even make it to meet him. As a family, we sought a second opinion and chose palliative radiotherapy instead. It felt like breathing space, but now more than ever I found myself torn. I needed him to stay safely in my belly, but at the same time I wanted him here, so she could meet my baby.
On the 28th of September, I was scheduled to be induced earlier than expected because my blood pressure was dangerously high. The consultant caring for me was wonderful. She had already arranged specialist support for my mental health and had always backed the choices I felt were right throughout my pregnancy. But this time she said, ‘I am sorry, Bev. I know you want to reach the end of your mum’s treatment, but we need to throw in the towel. Rhys is not growing properly, and your blood pressure is through the roof.’
I trusted her, and through the tears I agreed. I chose the latest appointment possible so I could be with my mum for her final round of treatment. I remember feeling, in that instant, as though I had lost all control. I went into overdrive, trying to pull myself together.
Welcoming Rhys
I went into the hospital overly organised but with a mind that was spiralling. It was September, and for reasons I couldn’t fully explain, I had a strong superstition about my baby being born that month. I felt he needed to arrive in October. At the time, I told myself it was because September was always a busy period in my job, but deep down I wasn’t sure that was the real reason. If I’m honest, this was the moment I began to realise I was having intrusive thoughts.
At 00:13 on October 1st, Rhys, my baby boy, was born. There were some minor complications during the birth, but he arrived safe and sound with everything happening quite fast in the end. I often joke that he took the first chance he could to be born in October! As he entered the world, my mum walked into the delivery room. It was a moment I had prayed for, seeing her hold my baby for one of his very first cuddles.
From the moment I first held Rhys, I just knew I was destined to be his Mum. I’d searched my whole life for purpose in my career and being overly organised but amongst the chaos in the weeks we faced post birth, I knew my purpose in life was to be his Mum.
The Quiet Struggle I Didn’t Expect
Rhys and I spent some time in hospital post birth just while things were seen too, and it quickly became apparent that Rhys had Reflux. I tried every remedy in the book to help him, but nothing seemed to. Although I found elements of motherhood to be pure joy, I found large parts of it only describable as drowning in guilt, exhaustion and a sadness that I didn’t want to verbalise to anyone. I kept it all to myself and, after self-diagnosing with Dr Google, I was convinced I was in some sort of psychosis. I was scared that if I told anyone about my overwhelming thoughts and shared how I felt, they would take Rhys from me. I didn’t know who they were, but I was convinced they would.
One morning, I remember being at home after what felt like seeing every single hour of the night. I was standing by the window holding Rhys when a consuming thought hit me: I felt as though I couldn’t do it anymore. I wondered what it would be like if we just were not here anymore, if the two of us simply disappeared, as though we had never existed. I didn’t think I was cut out for motherhood. I was having intrusive thoughts three or four times an hour, and the weight of them was crushing. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Rhys – I loved him fiercely. But the thoughts were becoming completely debilitating.
I was terrified to leave the house because of the vivid images and thoughts I was having. I was too embarrassed to take Rhys to a baby class because he never settled unless he was being held or in a baby carrier, and I convinced myself that if he cried, people would think I was a bad mum, and that someone might take him away from me.
I felt trapped with no way out. Everything felt dark and heavy, and I just didn’t feel like I could cope. I put on a brave face while isolating myself even more from people and the outside world. I felt judged, but I wasn’t even sure by who, because I was constantly surrounded by people who only wanted to help. I was scared to accept that help because I thought it would expose how weak I believed I was as a mother.
I had an appointment booked with the mental health midwives, and even though I was planning to avoid it, I knew deep down I needed to go. But when I arrived, I was told I didn’t have an appointment anymore and that I’d been taken off the list because I’d presented well when I was discharged from hospital. I took it as a sign from the universe that I didn’t need help and that I should just carry on.
But I was still struggling and began confiding in my sister regularly. She’s always been one of my best friends, but during my post-partum months I realised she was genuinely one of the earth’s angels. She listened to my worries, respected my boundaries, encouraged me to get up, get washed, and helped me meet the little daily milestones I couldn’t face on my own. But when she left and I was alone again with my thoughts, everything slipped back into that darkness.
The Baby Class That Opened a Door
My sister sent me an Instagram post about a baby class local to me. It took everything in me to agree to go, but I did. I felt pulled towards it because it was led by an NHS professional. At this point I wasn’t sleeping and I was surviving behind a brave face, but I got up and, with my sister’s encouragement, we went along.
I met some of the most amazing mums there. Some were on their first baby like me with Rhys, and others were on their second. There were so many incredible stories around the circle, but none felt close to mine. I remember sitting next to a lady who was so gentle with Rhys, she felt like a cheerleader for me from the moment we started talking. She spoke to me like I was a real human being, not just a mum on autopilot. I even remember pinching my leg, wondering if she was really seeing me or if I was imagining it.
The conversation flowed easily, and eventually we started talking about what classes I planned to do with Rhys. I stumbled and said swimming. She smiled and told me she guaranteed it would help his reflux, strengthen his muscles, and that before I knew it the reflux would be a thing of the past. I laughed because I didn’t even remember telling her he had reflux!
When I booked the class, I’d signed me and Rhys up for several weeks with the same group of mums, so I did have to actually go and find a swim class to make it real. I first took Rhys to a community centre pool. He was so settled in the water, but I was tense the entire time. I kept thinking, is he going to get sick from the germs, what if he drowns, what if something goes wrong? For the three weeks we went, I fought those thoughts every single time. But for those thirty minutes when he was in the water, he would settle, and because I had to focus so much on him, my mind finally felt quiet. Then, when the pool closed for refurbishments, I almost used it as an excuse and told myself, I’ll just wait until it reopens. But after more restless nights and intrusive thoughts, I decided I needed to find another swim class.
Discovering Water Babies
I found Water Babies and called the office to book a class. Alison answered the phone and told me about her own Water Babies journey. I instantly felt like it could become another place where I could escape the reality of everything that was consuming me. During the call, I opened up to her and said I’d been experiencing some anxiety as a new mum. She was so gentle with me, and even shared her own experience, reassuring me over the phone.
On the 13th of February, the following Monday after the phone call with Alison, I packed our bag and off we went to our first swimming lesson with Mairead at Penketh Pool. I was greeted by Alison with a warm hug which reset my whole nervous system, and Hazel, who cooed over Rhys and even helped me get him into his Happy Nappy. Together, they made sure I was supported as an anxious Mum and provided a safe and welcoming environment.
As I walked out to the pool, I found myself in a group of mums who’d started just one week before. My first thought was, I’ve made a mistake, I’m never going to fit in. Then I was greeted by someone I can only describe as one of the most incredible humans I’ve ever met: Mairead, our teacher. She smiled and said, ‘Pass him over, Mum, while I have a cheeky cuddle and you pop yourself in safely.’ Without even thinking twice, I handed Rhys over.
I’d struggled so much with that before. I was terrified of people passing on germs or even taking him away from me. But in that moment, I don’t remember any anxiety at all. The only thing I remember is Mairead’s attentiveness as she looked at Rhys, taking in all his little features, and the way she welcomed me with open arms. As the weeks went on, the routine become easier. I looked forward to the changing room chats, the interaction with Mairead and how much she felt like pure sunshine to me and Rhys.
I can’t remember how we got onto the subject, but one week in class we spoke about post-natal mental health. I felt exposed, but in a good way. I know now that, because of Mairead’s background, she probably introduced that conversation on purpose to support us mums. That week, I left the class and finally made the phone call to reach out for help through my health visitor. I told her I was terrified someone would take Rhys away from me, and that I thought I might be experiencing psychosis. She laughed down the phone and said someone would be in touch.
The weeks went by and we kept swimming. Some weeks Rhys would fall asleep floating on his back, completely relaxed. He loved the splashes, and he became so responsive to Mairead’s instructions, getting used to the skills we were learning each lesson. She used to call him a ‘little fish’ because he loved the water so much. I’d encourage family members to come along and watch the lessons, almost using it to validate myself as a mum, because at the time it felt like this was the only part of motherhood I was getting right.
The Hardest Goodbye
It was around April when my mum was admitted to hospital again. This time I had a really uncertain feeling. I tried to carry on as normal, but deep down I felt like we needed to be at the hospital as much as possible, spending every second we could with her. She adored Rhys, and he’d grown so fond of their daily cuddles. In a bid to keep some sense of normality, I kept going to our baby classes and our Water Babies lessons, even though it was one of the most difficult periods of my life.
On the 24th of April 2023 we went to our usual class and afterwards called into the hospital. Sadly, this was this day I lost my Mum. I’d taken one of my favourite photos of Rhys just before the lesson, and it’s one I hold so close because it ended up being the last day we ever had with her.
The following week, I turned up to class as usual. The mums gathered around me instantly, and I was met with the biggest hug from Mairead. She told me we’d get through it, and then we carried on with the lesson just as we always did.
Losing my Mum only heightened the dark and intrusive thoughts I was already having, but week after week our Water Babies class became a safe space that felt light. I can’t put into words the role Mairead has played in my life. She’s so much more than a Water Babies teacher, she gave me hope when I had none. She held space for me when I needed it most, and she made me believe I am a good mum.
Mairead started out as our Water Babies teacher, but now she’s my friend, my teammate, and someone my whole family holds firmly in our hearts. My story wouldn’t be what it is without her, and that’s something I’m absolutely certain of.
Shortly after the loss of my Mum, I began intensive therapy and was diagnosed with Post-Natal Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I didn’t have Psychosis, but learning about my condition helped me understand why my brain was working the way it was. Water Babies gave me an outlet, a safe space and, if I am completely honest, a lifeline. Week after week, Mairead made me believe in myself. She would comment on how happy and content Rhys was and it filled me with a hope, confidence and determination to continue showing up for myself, even in the darkest times of my life.
Swimming through the Wobbles
We’ve now been at Water Babies for nearly 3 years and it’s still the anchor in our week. It hasn’t always been easy though, we’ve had peaks and troughs with our love for the water. After Rhys finished Team Pearl and moved into Team Saffi he began to cry and refuse to take part in his lesson. I would spend lessons getting upset and wondering if we would be better giving up entirely. Mairead always offered us reassurance, as did Alison and Hazel when I would ring up to book catch ups sessions to try to give Rhys extra time in the water.
‘Ah, it’s water wobbles, we’re very familiar with those at Water Babies’. I found myself on the phone with Alison again, and she talked me through the stage Rhys was going through. She told me to stick with it and that he’d come out the other side. I’ll be honest, at times I questioned it. The phase went on for about nine weeks. Rhys would cry, cling to me, and refuse to do anything that even resembled swimming. But whenever it was time to jump or splash into the water, he’d be the first one out of the pool and the first one to leap back in with the biggest grin.
Mairead guided us through this with patience and attentiveness, and the team in the office offered constant reassurance over the phone. With catch up lessons and brilliant advice, we got through the wobbles and now he’s the most confident little boy in the water. What we love most about Water Babies is how it’s so much more than just learning to swim. It’s because of Water Babies that I’m a confident Mum who can now advocate for other Mums and I have the most amazing bond with my little boy. Without the safety net of Water Babies, my story may not have looked this way.
Each week, as we approach the area where Penketh Pool is, Rhys shouts ‘Yay, it’s swimming!’, as he recognises the journey. He always seeks out a high-five from Mairead, and you won’t ever catch him far away from his best friend Ben who he met through his classes. I’ve also made a very special friendship with Ben’s Mum. As we’ve both lost a parent, I find we’re able to relate to one another in ways I just can’t with others. Together, our boys love the mini challenges that Mairead sets up in class, especially if it includes teamwork. They love to go surfing and one of Rhys’ personal favourites is ‘Ring a Roses’ as his favourite place to be is under the water.
Becoming a Water Babies Teacher
Mairead has inspired and supported me more than I could probably ever write about. In late 2025, I saw the franchise we swim with had a teacher vacancy. I asked for more information through Instagram and started the process in secret. I didn’t want to make it a thing if it wasn’t going to be, but I was offered the job after a very teary (in a good way!) interview. The interview was almost like a platform for me to share my journey and, in that moment, I was able to look back and actually realise how far I’d come.
I wanted to become a Water Babies teacher so I could offer new parents the same safe space I’d been given, a place where they could learn to swim with their little ones and truly bond. For our family, our Water Babies journey became so much more than swimming, and I wanted to give that back. When parents first sign up, I don’t think they fully understand the magic of the lessons until they experience it themselves.
When I spoke with Alison after being offered the job, she told me Mairead was delighted for me. I didn’t need the validation this time, but it felt like a silent nod I never expected or even realised I needed.
My training was the first time I had ever been away from Rhys, and I was really wobbly before going away. However, I was supported incredibly by my sister, by the franchise, especially Alison and Hazel, and by the girls and the tutor on my course. They were all amazing. Every hurdle we faced, they climbed with me, and every high, we celebrated together. I know I’ve not only gained a career I’m going to love but also friends for life.
I’ve studied many times throughout my life, but I’ve never taken part in anything quite like the Water Babies training. At every checkpoint there was someone cheering me on to the next stage. The training is intense and it requires a lot of time and patience, but it also helped me face some of my fears in life. I challenged them, and I overcame them.
I’m due to start teaching at my own pool in the next couple of weeks, and after spending the last week getting to know my families, I honestly can’t wait to get started. The clients have already welcomed me with open arms, and the support around me has been indescribable.
I’m so proud of every part of our journey, even the parts that have been difficult to talk about. If my experience helps even one other family, then every step has been worth it.
After everything Beverley and Rhys have navigated together, their story is a powerful reminder of just how much comfort, confidence and connection can be found in the water. If you’re looking for a safe, supportive space to bond with your little one, especially during those wobbly early months, our lessons are here for you too. When you’re ready to begin your own journey, we’d love to welcome you to Water Babies and help your family fall in love with the water, one small splash at a time.
