I should consider myself so lucky, I had amazing parents and had a great childhood. I am an only child and I spent a lot of time playing on my own but my doll, my baby girl Caroline came every where with me. She had a drawer full of clothes that I would dress her in, her cot was beside my bed and I was so proud to take her up and down the road in her beautiful silver cross pram. It was a given that I was going to marry and have a baby when I grew up.

I was the child that was always around the woman that had the baby which progressed in to the one that was always happy to baby sit. Childcare at school was my favourite subject and I went on to complete a diploma in childcare and development, loving to be surrounded by children. Children were my way forward and after gaining my childcare diploma I got a job as a nanny to 2 preschool children.

My parents were loving, caring and supported anything I wanted to do and but I don’t think motherhood came naturally to my mum and I found growing up difficult. I was always the shy child that stood behind their mum, that cried and was inconsolable when my mum left me at nursery or school and I didn’t speak much if I wasn’t at home, just the 3 of us. I had friends but not a wide network, I didn’t attend birthday parties or sleepovers and a weekend brownie camp left me homesick.

Talking about growing up was not discussed at home, boyfriends, puberty, sex became an embarrassment to me in front of my parents. My first bra was handed to me in a paper bag for wearing when it was cold. When my periods started and I had had only the basic information from school which really didn’t make that much sense to me, I didn’t feel I had anyone to ask, and each month became something I dreaded. I felt dirty.

As much as I loved being a nanny, I became restless and needed to learn more so I took the step to become a children’s nurse.

Moving away from home to go to University was massive for me, I was always home sick and went through the same heart break of not wanting to leave my parents every time I came home to visit and had to leave again.

I was 18, not worldly wise and not coping with living away from home but I made friends and partied as is compulsory when you are a student. Parties however meant alcohol and men, something that was not on my radar. I couldn’t call a quick kiss in the shopping centre lift, so no one would see me when I was 15, a relationship. A few drinks to loosen me up and I became “party girl”. I met men with whom I spent the night. However in the throes of passion, a voice in the back of my head was telling me what I was doing was wrong, if I got pregnant my parents would be disappointed in me, I would have to give up my career and return home to face the embarrassment and shame. Each time this happened, ouch!! The most awful pain would happen and I would have to tell my aroused partner that I wasn’t able to continue. Some were angry and others left me! 

I carried on like this until a few years later a bout of depression got my GP asking why I was still single. I plucked up the courage and told her. After examination I was given a diagnosis of vaginismus and referred for help. Unfortunately, this help retired and there was no replacement so I was back to square one and again did not do anything about it for some years despite it continuing to be a problem.

A couple of major gynae ops later and I was still holding on to my womb as I still wanted children. At age 41 I was asked on the morning of surgery, “why are we not doing a hysterectomy”?  I replied that I still wanted children. The looked at me as if I was crazy but I wasn’t ready to end my dream. At my post op check the consultant confirmed my ongoing vaginismus but advised me there were no resources available to help with this. I had to battle on alone.

Last year my life was being impacted so much with gynaecological issues I had to give in and have a hysterectomy. In my 2 weeks of isolation leading up to my surgery day, I was counting the days I had left to get pregnant. 14, 13, 12……. But I was single and vaginismus made sex too painful but all the time I had my womb, there was hope.

My whole outlook on life changed when I came out of theatre, I was childless, all hope was gone and I plummeted in to a massive pit of desperation. Being in the medical field I asked my surgeon for a photograph of my womb which he duly did and emailed to me. My heart broke when I saw it, it looked like a baby wrapped in a blanket. How cruel the body can be!

Another post op check and yet again my ongoing vaginismus was confirmed. Whether resources have changed or I have a more understanding gynaecologist I don’t know but I have been referred for and am receiving ongoing psychosexual therapy to change my thoughts and physiotherapy to dilate my vagina so that I can aim for a pain free sex life. Yes I want to enjoy my body and have the confidence to meet someone to spent my life with but as far as having my baby is concerned it is too little too late. Why was this not offered when I was younger and had a chance? I feel so angry and as if I wasn’t taken seriously. It may have not been important to my previous Dr’s but it was important to me and I feel let down by them. I initially felt let down by my own body but with help I have learnt to see it wasn’t mine or my body’s fault, I just needed help and that this is something I can get over.  I continue with therapy but now I have no womb, I am having to reconfigure my mind for my plan B but I need to dig myself out of my pit of childlessness depression first.

Anonymous

TRIGGER WARNING: Some people may find the below image of a womb triggering.