Mother says she phoned dealer and binged on cocaine after learning she was pregnant, highlighting rising use among mothers

When she first saw a positive pregnancy test in 2018, Sarah Ibrahim said her immediate response was not to stop using drugs but to call her supplier and binge on cocaine for several days.

Ibrahim, 43, who asked that her son be referred to by a pseudonym, said she continued to use after he was born and eventually developed a nightly habit that she hid from family. She stopped using for the remainder of that pregnancy after six weeks, she said, but relapsed when her baby was about three months old and again during the Covid-19 pandemic, when she told reporters she began taking a line after the child’s bedtime to relieve stress. She said she took a final line in May 2021 and has been clean since.

Ibrahim, who grew up in Essex and worked in administrative and City roles including as a PA and later for major firms, described the pattern as high-functioning addiction: using privately after the school run or once the child was asleep so she could carry on with work and family life. She said the habit escalated over about a decade, at times costing more than £1,000 a month and, overall, roughly £150,000. She now runs a remote virtual assistant company and works as a recovery coach.

Her account reflects a trend reported by services and commentators: cocaine use in the United Kingdom has risen over the past two decades, and support organisations have seen growing numbers of women seeking help, including mothers who use the drug as a means of coping with the pressures of work, childcare and social life. Ibrahim described a culture in which occasional social use could become a ‘‘pick-me-up’’ to manage stress and lead to dependence.

Ibrahim said she began using cannabis in her teens and later cocaine in her late 20s. She described a period during university when she used daily and depleted a student loan on the drug. After graduating and working in the City, she said cocaine became woven into social and professional life. She recounted increasingly visible physical and emotional effects, including pale skin, tiredness and mood swings.

Upon learning she was pregnant at age 36, Ibrahim said she binged for several days before deciding to stop for the rest of the pregnancy. She called the birth of her son a turning point and said the early months after his birth felt ‘‘perfect’’ and provided a focus that helped her remain abstinent until an offer from a friend when the baby was asleep in a pram triggered a relapse.

Ibrahim said the Covid-19 lockdowns intensified her use. Isolated at home with a toddler and working remotely, she said she felt overwhelmed and turned to cocaine for temporary relief, often after bedtime. She described a cycle in which the drug’s effects left her too wired to sleep, causing fatigue and irritability the next day and leading her to use again to cope.

She told reporters she hid the extent of her use from family until May 2021, when she went cold turkey and disclosed her past to her mother. Ibrahim said she received clinical hypnotherapy and has shared her story publicly and on social media to reduce secrecy and shame around addiction. She said other women contacted her with similar experiences and that she now supports some as a recovery coach.

Ibrahim acknowledged ‘‘intense guilt’’ about taking cocaine while pregnant and while responsible for a young child. She said she is motivated to stay clean by a wish that her son not remember her as an addict and by practical goals such as providing for him.

Medical literature has linked prenatal cocaine exposure to potential developmental and central nervous system effects, although outcomes vary and researchers note difficulties in isolating the drug’s direct impacts from other factors such as socioeconomic conditions, polydrug use and prenatal care. Public-health agencies and treatment providers caution that no level of prenatal exposure to Class A drugs is considered safe.

Data aggregated over recent years indicate a long-term rise in cocaine consumption in Britain. Those monitoring substance use say patterns of use have broadened beyond stereotypical portrayals of addiction, with middle-class, employed people increasingly visible among those seeking help. Treatment services report that stigma and secrecy can delay or prevent people from accessing support, particularly parents who fear legal or child-protection consequences.

Ibrahim said that, unlike the stereotype of people living rough or completely marginalised, many users are ‘‘high-functioning’’ and maintain jobs, social lives and housing while struggling privately. She urged others in similar situations to seek help and said that telling her story has helped reduce shame and prompted women in comparable circumstances to come forward.

Her recovery plan, she said, includes ongoing therapy and accountability through public disclosure. She described the process as gradual and said cravings persist at times, but added that confronting grief and stress without resorting to drugs has been a major milestone. She said the experience has informed her work as a recovery coach and her advocacy for services that acknowledge the diverse profiles of people with cocaine dependence.

Ibrahim’s account illustrates the complexities of maternal addiction and the challenges of balancing parenting with recovery. She said she now focuses on everyday family life and on providing experiences for her son, and she hopes her story will encourage others to seek treatment and support. She acknowledged that the risk of relapse remains and described recovery as a long-term process that requires ongoing vigilance and support.