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The day I realised I had a prolapse, I had a sinking feeling. As women who have a prolapse would know, the feeling was literal. I felt like everything in my body was, well, sinking down to where it didn’t belong.
I did what any self-respecting woman with an uncertain health concern would do: I turned to Doctor Google.
There it was in black and white. A word to describe the feeling: Prolapse.
I made an appointment with a women’s health physio who, when asking her many and varied but all intensely personal questions (is there no end to the indignity of having a baby?), initially buoyed me. I didn’t have many of the awful-sounding symptoms. In fact, other than the sinking feeling, which she called ‘dragging’, I had none. Maybe I didn’t have a prolapse after all! But I did. Bladder and bowel. Mild, but still there. Oh, and a nice friendly bit of nerve damage to go along with it.
I was devastated.
I hadn’t had difficulty losing my baby weight. My friends were being very kind and commenting on how well and how quickly I had ‘recovered’ after having my baby. But on the inside, I felt as though my body was ruined forever. I felt as though I would be uncomfortable for the rest of my life. I’ll admit it: at times, I would look at my newborn son and think, “Are you worth it?”
When I was pregnant and in the weeks following the birth, I had medical advice from a GP, two midwives, a student midwife, an obstetrician and a gynaecologist. I also did an extra birth course. Not one person mentioned the word prolapse to me.