2. The Before - Before You Don't Know

 Before I didn't know what I didn't know.

And when I learned to know what I know now, it was time to share.

I knew I had issues the moment my second child was born, 9 years ago. My second child, a beautifully easy birth, but a recovery which never came made me very aware something wasn't quite fixing how it was meant too inside.

A month after birth I still bled clots the size of my hand. I assumed I had some placenta still in me, but this was dismissed. 6 months post partum I told the health visitor my periods didn't really end, they just stopped or eased for a few weeks and then returned the same as the week before. I was told give it a year.

A year post partum I told a GP I was struggling with such heavy periods I was tired, and not able to cope too well, and was told I was a mother of two.- this was life.

I knew it wasn't right - but was so dismissed and gaslighted when I raised my concerns, that you learn, very quickly, to push those concerns down, Because truly - there were so many more pressing concerns to prioritise as a new mum of two.

Fast forward 5-6 years and again whilst passing out in pain when having my period, in front of my toddlers and children, I decided to enquire again what was going on inside.

My Gynaecologist offered a laparoscopy for the search of endometriosis, and this was not found - but suspected adenomyosis was offered. For certainty a hysterectomy and biopsy would be done, but I was far too young for that.

At 35, at 36, at 37.... I still could possibly want, or, dear lady - my husband may want, another child. I was dismissed. Deterred. Turned away.

Again years pass and you learn to hold on to the side of the sink as you pass blood so clotted it makes you wince, or call your partner if you are going to faint from pain, or move the children to the TV as you cry. you learn, you cope, you go on. Until

Until you can't.

This year my second born was sick - so scarily sick only in hindsight and reviewing reports do you acknowledge how sick - and so again, all is placed on hold. But as he recovered, I found my own health toppling over in to itself. Bowel pain and uterine pain, and bleeding all the time became so consuming it was life altering.

I knew I had to do something.

I knew that I had something, I knew my uterus wasn't right, nor my bowel, nor my mental health at this point. I knew I had pain. I knew I was bleeding more frequently, more heavier, large clots the size of a thumb every two weeks. 

I knew I had developed anaemia. I knew I was tired, worn out from a normal day, struggling with shooting pains, a low dull ache, and uterine ligament stretches and agonising period pain. 

I knew I was bloating daily, for weeks, hormonally which affected my eating, which affected my hormones and bowels, which affected by bloat. The bloat pinched my skin, forcing my non--pregnant uterus to swell and push against my intestinal wall causing adhesions and scarring as they pulled and tore.

I knew I had once been fun, manic, physical, and able to do so much more. A mum of two, a boss of a small local company, a volunteer had various charities. I knew I was losing to be it all, all those things I adored and enjoyed.

I knew I could not go on coping.

By the time my condition had completely overtaken my life, the NHS could only offer an 18 month wait to help. A hysteroscopy was provided to check, finally after 8 years, that I did not have uterine or ovarian cancer; but a small tear in the procedure set my uterus to swell, my bowel to enlarge and I was left bloated, sore and unable to eat sleep or drink or move without quite a lot of searing pain for months.

My mother, who watched her daughter fade and crumble, and cry at 40 most times they met, and if not cry - grumble and hurt, offered to pay to get the pain removed. Without a father, who had departed the year before, this offer would not have been possible, and with reluctance but gratitude, I accepted. The mental relief was unfathomable.

In the private world, within weeks I was MRI'd and confirmed all I knew I had, but had been dismissed. I was diagnosed with advanced cystic adenomyosis, hyperplasia and ovarian cysts, growing quicker than they could dispel themselves. Cystic sacs were covering my ovaries and filling with fluid, pushing on my intestines and with the swollen adenomyosis uterus, this too weeped into my bowels causing constipation and forming scarring as they would push together and then pull apart as my uterus would retract. 

My outlook was to have a radical and total hysterectomy - removal of the ovaries which were becoming pre-cancerous cysts, a uterus growing cysts and lumps my consultant said 'would or could turn' soon, and a cervix where my adenomyosis was spreading too. I agreed with it all if it meant I could be the mother I thought I use to remember being could return. It was such an easy and grateful decision.

You don't know what options are available to you - before you have these issues. Just as in if you have never had a broken leg - you don't know whether you will be offered a cast, a boot or surgery. Once you're in pain, you also have to fight to keep the system aware of you and being placed in the waiting line for support. You don't know how long you have to wait - you just know it needs sorting.

So I bit the bullet and did all the pre-op necessities, whilst massively bloated, deep low hung pain in my pelvic area and stretched uterine ligaments. I am so grateful I was seen so quickly.

I looked a little into menopause, a little into the types of surgery I may have, and a little into the recovery. i didn't really want to know what could happen, but just be slightly prepared for what may come. I also didn't want to scare myself out of having anything done for fear I would be in a worse place than I currently was. Ultimately it got to the point, nothing could be worse than where I was.

And so it begins.