Tiffany’s story
I'm Tiffany, and I’m 31 years old. I had my first child at 20 and my second at 23. I had my firstborn age 20. The birth was quick, and I was in shock. I was young, scared and had no idea what to do. All I remembered from the birth was shouting odd things like “sweaty flip flops” and “Jaffa cakes.”
My daughter was born back-to-back so she came into this world looking around at the carnage she was making. All I can remember is the midwife telling my mum to get ready to hit the red button. A number of people dashed in and all I recall is my legs up in stirrups and this pain was worse than before. Pushing the baby out was the easy part but lying there in agony was beyond frightening. I felt like I was being tortured – no one could have prepared me for this feeling. My mum put me in the shower and I just felt like a robot in slow motion. I was stitched for a second-degree tear but in fact had a missed fourth-degree tear. At my six-week check the doctor examined me. As I explained I was in severe pain, he said, “Ooh my love, they've made a right mess of you down here”. I was mortified.
None the less a referral was made to a gynaecologist and at three months postpartum I went in for a Fenton’s procedure. This is probably the worst day of my life. I was awake throughout, tears rolling down my face, the nurse squeezing my hand, the surgeon telling me to stop being a silly girl and laughing at me. The nurse spotted I had rips all over my gown just to add to the lack of dignity. The treatment I received fell below a minimum standard of competence and I was continuing to bleed after her repair so she stuffed me with gauze. I was sent to the recovery room and within 10 minutes I was told I could leave. I had to get my things together and walk out. I felt like a zombie walking out. Time stood still for me while everything was going on around me. I soon realised I hadn’t even passed urine before they discharged me, so when I got home it was the first thing I did.
The day’s dose of traumatic events wasn’t over and I was about to go through possibly the worst thing in my life. I started peeing anxiously and suddenly I tore open. Blood was pouring out of me. The morning’s repair surgery was so bad it had now caused me to tear further than before and I suffered an injury as a result. It could have been avoided or been of less severity with proper treatment. I was rushed back to hospital only to be shoved in a side room of the maternity ward, with the door open and people walking past for the baby scans, including male partners. I had no covers on me and the consultant came in and said, “For god’s sake I haven’t got time for this.” Yet again I was stuffed with gauze. She told me she would be back in five minutes. Luckily a midwife saw me and gave me a cover and pulled the door to. After what felt like an eternity the consultant returned with something and said, “Oh, it’s not stopping bleeding,” and without warning she used sticks to “stop” the bleeding and seal the tear.
I screeched as shockwaves went through my body, and said, “Oh my goodness, that really hurts.” The response was, “Don’t be so silly, don’t be a baby.” The consultant said she was done with me now and asked me to leave. Yet again I was in shock. For months on end, I suffered with abnormal bleeding, pain in my entire pelvis, bleeding from my back passage, a sensation I was tearing whenever I sat down. When I was in the car and we went over potholes or bumps in the roads it felt like I had shards of glass cutting me below. This is where my bowel issues really began. I would have no control. I would poo myself while out and have to rush home, hoping no one could see or smell me. I needed a third operation 18 months post-delivery and was finally given general anaesthesia so as not to endure any further trauma.
But there was nothing that could be done to mend the missed fourth-degree tear, the damaged muscles and scarring. A third- or fourth-degree tear should be repaired in theatre with either regional or general anaesthetic. This allows the anal sphincter to relax so that the torn ends can be retracted and brought together without tension. Women should also be given antibiotics and a laxative and then at 6-12 weeks they should be offered physiotherapy, and have their condition reviewed by an experienced obstetrician and gynaecologist. None of this happened.
I have endured years of incontinence, suffering, endless tests, treatments, ongoing mental illness, PTSD, bladder and bowel dysfunction, fibromyalgia and ME. I don’t know if I had a second-, third- or fourth-degree tear at birth but I do know that the Fenton’s procedure caused me significantly more serious injury. I was referred to gastroenterology and colorectal.
The injury has impacted on my quality of life, including relationship issues with my daughter and husband. My second child was born three years after my first by emergency caesarean. I have a mild congenital scoliosis and this wasn’t considered when placing my epidural. Many attempts were made and I ended up with a spinal block with an epidural running through it. At this point the focus was on delivering my 7lbs 11oz baby three weeks early. His shoulders were stuck in my pelvis after I was left in labour in a delivery room for seven hours.
Eight minutes after birth it was clear he was poorly. My back was black and blue with bruising and it was later discovered I had bruising to my spinal cord and nerves. My mobility was impacted. But more to the point my bowel had gone the opposite way to before and it was now taking weeks for me to pass any motion.
I've had multiple tests over the years but to cut it short my entire large bowel is damaged, and I have slow transit constipation. Faecal compaction is my issue, and can leave me in agony, doubled over, restless. Night times are a challenge – when I'm lying down it’s like there’s a baby trying to escape but in reality it’s just a giant poo that can't move in my bowel. I've tried numerous medications, drinks, suppositories, enemas – nothing works! Even a double dose Picolax bowel prep for a colonoscopy didn't work so I had to have the virtual colonoscopy test that’s reserved for the 80+ year olds. I have tried irrigation and that makes everything drop and go swollen. I have even fainted as a result of the sudden pressure.
I am now told it’s a case of switching up my bowel meds every so often to try and get the bowel moving. My only option is to “bomb” myself with a six-pack dose of Movicol. Ultimately I'm told that at some point it’s going to stop working completely and hopefully it will be a planned ileostomy rather than an emergency. I feel so scared because I have OCD and the thought of that going wrong and me leaking poo everywhere is haunting. I don’t know what path my life is going to take now but I feel alone. My body is a mess, I have ME. My exhaustion is insane, and I can hardly function enough to live in my own home. I miss a lot of occasions and even day-to-day situations because of my failure of body. I'm so ashamed. I’m not the mother, wife, daughter, sister or aunty I want to be and I just can’t see that I am ever going to be me'. Who even am I? I’m just a couch potato – that’s how I feel anyway.
Since then I’ve had two miscarriages, but after those I haven’t fallen pregnant again, so I think my body has decided for itself that I’m just not able to produce any more children. My mind is frazzled, my body is fudged and all I can do is wake up each day and just try to be the best I can for my family. So much uncertainty – I think I deserve a tummy tuck after all this. At least I haven’t lost my sense of humour, just my sanity and good looks.
