Our son was born in 1984 at the Paddington Women’s Hospital which has now been converted and redeveloped into housing I believe. I had been in hospital for over a month with Pre Eclampsia. My blood pressure went extremely high one night and the decision to induce was made.
I had been under a Professor there since the mid seventies. We trusted and were confident that everything would go well. My bestie from school was coming after she finished her shift at POWCH. She is a maternity nurse and had been involved in lots of births so I was happy she would be there as my support person. Especially since my husband was a little squeamish and not much involved in the antenatal care etc.
I was transferred down to the maternity delivery area and very quickly induced by my waters being broken with something I described as a knitting needle being shoved up my vagina. And I love knitting. In fact I was totally obsessed with knitting back then! I was told later that it was more like a crochet hook!
All the nurses who worked with my friend (whom I had got to know very well over lunches in their staff room) agreed with her that nothing would be happening as it was a first birth and was going to take a while. So she arranged to come straight over at five pm. She did not make it in time because unfortunately when they put the drip in which causes the contractions I think someone must have sped it up by accident. It was going very fast. Within thirty minutes I had horrid backache. Was not dilated enough though so the nurses and Prof and Dr took off. It was an unusual day. High high volume of births. There were women in the corridors giving birth.
Three and a half hours later and our son was born. And almost strangled to death. The only help we had was early on. After I was given gas (which did not agree with me) and then an injection, the only person to help us was a young med student who had never witnessed a birth before. Luckily he was there and he managed to hold onto our son as my husband ran to get help.
They managed to get his cord from around his neck. It was very hard to hold for so long without pushing. His head was literally out and I had to stop pushing. Not sure if that had anything to do with my issues later. The whole delivery process certainly did though.
Within months I had bladder incontinence and also our son was very ill. He developed a Proptosis and was sent to a lot of specialists. He became so ill at nine months it was not known if he would be retarded or not. Because of the lack of support from family here (my friend had moved to Northern NSW so was unable to help) my husband decided we should go back to the UK to live.
Once over there I was tested by a Urodynamics team at a big London Hospital. They said my bladder had been dislodged by the birth. They suggested I wear the huge pads that old people wore in nursing homes. They would not operate to repair this as I was too young and might want other children.
During the next year our son became much better in that we knew he would not be retarded by the hundreds of Myoclonic Jerks he had daily…. however he became afflicted by severe head pain. Cluster migraines in a three year old are not very pleasant. I spent many a day with him laying across my lap with him putting my cold hands on his forehead bless him. I will not go on about that. It is his story and it’s still with him even now. He is on a disability pension and has been since he was fifteen when the school system basically gave up on him.
When he was four a different surgeon asked if I wanted more children. Due to our son’s illness. I said I could not put another child through it. So he scheduled a Hysterectomy and Burch Culposuspension to move my bladder and remove my uterus. It was an horrifically painful operation and especially so as it was in the days before PCA machines. After the surgery I was given a shot of Pethidine before doing anything so I was able to move.
The surgery was successful. I think I was in for about ten days. Once I returned home my husband went back to work and I looked after our son while I recovered. It was gruelling but I was young enough, 32, to recover quickly. Sex was better than it had been for a long time. Hard to keep my husband off me actually.
We returned to Australia a few years later when our son was in year one at infants school. In the early nineties we started working at the church we attended. High Anglican and just across the road from our son’s school. I had already been helping the Female Deacon with Scripture in the local schools and also with Sunday School so becoming Co Vergers seemed a logical move. Especially since my husband had always professed to want to train for the priesthood. In the end I actually was more suited to the Pastoral kind of work and my husband looked after the church. I looked after funerals during the week when he was at his other job.
The whole time we were there. Ten years, I had more and more trouble with incontinence. Bladder and bowel. I just loved taking scripture classes. There were so many needy children who loved and needed extra attention and love. They actually used to stop me in the street and introduce me to their mums. Who knew who I was apparently! However I was so nervous of having a bowel accident in class, of which I had many outside in the street, that I said I would have to give it up.
We were problem solvers so I ended up assisting our very first female Anglican priest. A young girl in her late twenties who was sure she had God’s ear. Or rather he was talking into her ear! She was sure she was not meant to marry and not to work with the ill or elderly. God told her so. I said I think God has different plans for you. I see you as a Chaplain. She laughed. No way.
During our ten years living and working at the church she met a divorced man and fell madly in love with him and married him. She was then basically not allowed to work within the church. And she became a Chaplain. At a huge hospital I attended. And she was and is brilliant at it!! We had many a laugh about her profession that she was called not to marry over coffee in the hospital canteen.
In 1999 I had a sudden gallbladder operation and then I went into surgery with the lovely Dr Eisenberg who was consulting with my then bowel surgeon, the late Dr Philip Douglas. I had been diagnosed with a rectocele and an enterocele by then. He pulled out during surgery after finding too many adhesions and also not knowing how to do a complicated surgery without shortening my vagina. He said I was too young for that.
My husband wanted me fixed. He liked me to be on top. He liked deep penetration. He like to go doggy. He liked to hurt me and he could not do that with two prolapses filling the vagina. He had always wanted anal sex and so he started that. Without lube. It was horrendously painful. Especially now that I know I had a weakness of the wall between vagina and rectum.
So the next year my GP sent me for a second opinion. A top surgeon Dr Andrew Korda at RPAH. And his colleague the wonderful Prof Michael Soloman. Dr Korda said I could not go on like that. He said the backache and bowel incontinence would get worse. That this would fix the structural problem and should hopefully help the rectal incontinence. Dr Soloman was not so sure. He said there was a colostomy in my future. Not too distant either.
The surgery was horrendous. The pain off the scale. I nearly went mad with it. I was a patient at the POW pain clinic then. Had been for some years for my spine. The glorious Dr Khor, whom I still communicate with by email and who insisted I make him one of my lush quilts, told me afterwards that it’s one of the most painful surgeries there is. I had the Posterior Repair done using my own tissue. No mesh which we now know to be causing so much trouble in women all over the world. Dr Korda folded over my vaginal tissue and sort of seamed it. All the way up. Not sure how long the vagina is cause it stretches. As a Quilter/designer I understand the mechanics of it. No mesh was fabulous but unfortunately the seam became a huge ridge which pressed even more on my rectum so my rectal incontinence became worse, much worse. Dr Korda felt or hoped it would settle down but unfortunately my husband decided he could not wait for the healing. He forced sex on me. While the stitches were still in there and while I was still in incredible pain in the wound. So much so that I could not sit on my right buttock for many many months that year.
All this was happening to the backdrop of the Sydney Olympics. Our son being told he would not have enough work in to sit his School Certificate. He was doing Distance Education by then as no school could cope with his absences due to his pain. He was well ahead of himself. Doing HSC level in year nine. But he was going to be short a few packages. So he pulled out of school and continued to educate himself with the help of the internet.
Our church was changing a lot of things around so after a family conference we decided to leave. My health was not good. Not after the surgery and my birthday present from my husband. A really nasty sexual assault. Number two but much worse. Well he thought he was wishing me a happy birthday. But I was crying and I inched myself backwards trying to get away from him until I was trapped between him and the wall. There was nowhere to go. I had cried and pushed him and pushed him and he did not notice, too involved in his personal pleasure. His pleasure involved my pain after the first few years of our marriage so this was nothing new. But I had an open wound. It really hurt already. Obviously no lube. My god the dryness. It hurt so much. There was blood everywhere. Stitches came out. It was in my mind a brutal rape. My therapist later said it was. She was disgusted by him. Did not really want me to discuss him. I have only told a few people and that is in the last few months.
He finished and pulled himself out of me and went to the bathroom. Very happy. When he came back I was doubled over in pain and crying. Trying to keep things quiet so our son did not hear anything. He asked what was wrong and I said I was bleeding and it hurt. He said oh it’s just not worth it. And stormed off. That was my birthday 2000. He never touched me again. Those brutal assaults were almost worth it. Except for the further damage they did.
So I am going to the surgeon on Thursday. No doctor has examined me for 17 years vaginally. It just hurt too much. But I need to get on with my life now that it is five years since I finally left “him.” I would like to experience penetration again. Not sure why but it was always my favourite part of sex. That gentle loving possession by another. I miss it. And the closeness. And would like to have some good, clean fun.
So am going to check if I need a reconstruction or just stretching with some sexy gadgets! I had similar to those through Professor Vancaille in 2000. But his ones gave electric type shocks through whole pelvic area. Not enjoyable at all. No fun.
I now have an incredible amount of scarring on anterior and posterior of vagina. Which is causing a lot of spontaneous orgasms. The ones in the middle of the night where I have a full bladder are excellent. Full on dream with being penetrated and made love to. Orgasm comes naturally and wakes me up and goes on and on. But the daytime one’s are really painful and I need them fixed somehow. I have read Botox can work on them. I also read these could have been made worse as I was sexually assaulted for many years as a child. Had many objects shoved up a very tiny passage. I can still feel the marbles she used to put up there that she made me hold onto. And the licking. I was less than eleven. It was from age seven years to eleven.
So I am going to be very frank with. $&$&$& on Thursday. I am told he is very very gentle. Which is great because last time I was examined it was agony. But that was a long long time ago, seventeen years. I am ready for this. The timing is right. The Small Fibre Neuropathy and Mesh pain is under control now using the nerve pain cocktail. I can handle this. So much so, I am going by myself. I am my own best support. I have always had to be. My son has been fabulous. But this is not something my son should be part of. He has enough on his plate with his own health. I know he will be thinking of me and wanting the best. He is very protective of me. Funny thing is if I get things working again he is going to be so embarrassed. Cause I will be sharing my sex ploits with him. As all mothers should. Not. We are very honest about these things. We can talk sex for hours. And I know one thing he was very hurt by with his father was that he did not take me up on my offer of having his own life many years ago. When I offered him his freedom after the surgery. My son lways thought this should be my time and there is a limited window now I am so old lol. That is me saying I am getting old, not him!