How I survived the record Paris heatwave while seven months pregnant

Megan Clement, seven months pregnant, walks her dog in a park in Montreuil during the record-breaking heatwave over the weekend. Photograph: JB Russell/Panos Pictures View image in fullscreen Megan Clement, seven months pregnant, walks her dog in a park in Montreuil during the record-breaking heatwave over the weekend. Photograph: JB Russell/Panos Pictures How I survived the record Paris heatwave while seven months pregnant It feels as if we are being abandoned to our fate by those in power, with further extreme heat expected next week I n the summer of 2019, I had a “fun” idea for a piece. Paris was due to experience its hottest day in history, and I proposed travelling around the city trying out its various cooling-off strategies to see if they would help. Reader, it was not fun and they did not help . Last week, Paris experienced its worst period of catastrophic heat on record, worse than that day in 2019, and worse than in 2003, when a sustained heatwave killed nearly 15,000 people. I now live in a neighbourhood in Seine-Saint-Denis, the poorest département in mainland France and one of the most exposed to extreme heat, and, to add to the complications, am seven months pregnant. So how did my week go this time? Tuesday When I found out I was pregnant, my greatest anxiety was the fact that I would be giving birth in summer – many French hospitals are not air-conditioned and not built to cope with heatwaves. I plan to ask about the extreme heat plan at an information session this afternoon, but the session is cancelled due to the heatwave. View image in fullscreen A passenger on a Paris Métro train during last weekend’s hot weather. Photograph: Annice Lyn/Getty Images A friend who is a couple of weeks further along than me has checked into an air-conditioned hotel with her husband because the heat in their apartment was giving her contractions. They tell me the place is full of other pregnant women, although for most this is not an affordable option. For all of us pregnant Parisians the priority is clear: do not give birth this week if you can avoid it. I’ve rented a portable air conditioner that will arrive tomorrow, and I hope it will get me through to the weekend, when the heat is expected to finally break. Wednesday I have a meeting at the public healthcare office this morning. It is already 30C (86F) at 9.30am and for some reason they are making people queue outside in the baking heat, though I am shown mercy on account of my condition and let in straight away. While I am going through the forms, a woman falls ill with apparent heatstroke in reception. “We need water in here!” a staff member calls as people rush to attend to her. A friend who is away has offered me her desk in an air-conditioned office, a godsend. At a childcare centre nearby, staff have taped reflective recovery blankets over the windows as they spray down toddlers in the courtyard with a hose. Under a shaded archway, a man has set up his belongings and a mattress where h