Real Life My Mother’s Day miracle
Despite her doctors giving her a devastating diagnosis, Ellen Picton refused to give up on her dreamé
staring at what felt like the hundredth pregnancy test, my hands started to shake. Grabbing the box from the side, I compared the diagram on the back to the two, faint lines that had appeared.
A positive result – I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Suddenly, the heartache of the past few months, all the trying and failing, drifted into insignificance. What remained was a realisation that instantly made my world brighter. I was going to have a baby.
a devastating diagnosis
For as long as I could remember, I’ve felt certain I was meant to be a mother. But then at 18 I started experiencing a painful throbbing sensation in my stomach, and my periods became very heavy and irregular. My weight also started to creep up. I went to the GP, who prescribed a combined contraceptive pill.
But when that played havoc with my moods, he referred me for an internal scan, which revealed I was suffering from the condition called endometriosis. The doctor explained it causes cells that usually line the womb to be carried elsewhere in the pelvic region, causing pain and inflammation.
‘In the worst cases, it can lead to infertility,’ he continued. My body flooded with fear. I knew I was only young, and far from ready to start a family right now. But the idea that my future would be any other than one that involved children just seemed impossible. ‘What can I do to prevent it?’ I asked, my hands shaking with fear. The doctor explained it was impossible to tell how the condition would develop. ‘For now, all we can do is try to control it by stopping ovulation,’ he said. And so for the next few years, I tried contraceptive pills and hormone patches. I had regular examinations with my gynaecologist. But still the pain was only getting worse. By the time I was in my early 20s, and just starting out in my career in advertising, I was suffering excruciating agony three out of every four weeks of the month. Bent double over my desk at work, I’d rely on painkillers and a hot-water bottle to try and relieve the ache. But it was no use. While the rest of my friends were going out clubbing, I’d be huddled under my duvet in agony. Dating became an impossibility.
As I progressed in my career, it became harder to hide my condition from my colleagues. Going into long meetings, I’d have to carefully tuck a TENS machine in the waistband of my trouser suit to help control the pain. Although I found some prescription painkillers that seemed to help, they left me feeling lethargic and I started to turn to foods like pizza, pasta and chocolate for an extra hit of energy.
By the time I was in my late twenties, I weighed 13st – too big for my 5ft 3in frame. I was miserable, and my hopes of ever becoming a mother seemed just an impossible dream.
The cruellest fate
Then in October 2015, I was referred for a laparoscopy. The results revealed my endometriosis had caused so much scarring that I was effectively infertile at just 26. I felt like I’d been punched.
The doctor laid out my options: a drug-induced menopause, which involved being injected in the womb
‘dating became impossible’
every month with a needle. Or I could have a full hysterectomy.
Back at home, I burst into tears and fell into my mum’s arms. ‘You need to take some time to decide,’ she said, gently.
Then two weeks later, I met Anthony at a friend’s party. We swapped numbers and, after just a few dates, I knew I wanted to be with him forever.
But the fact I couldn’t give him a baby hung over me. I didn’t want to get six months down the line and then say. So after one month, I confessed. He took my hand. ‘You’re enough for me,’ he said.
It seemed the cruellest fate – just as I found out I’d never be able to conceive children, I met the only man I’d imagine myself having them with. I’d considered going through with the hysterectomy, but now I couldn’t bear the thought. As long as I had a womb, we could at least try.
And, the following January, I bumped into a client at work. I’d known her for years and, like me, she had severe endometriosis – something we’d bonded over one day as we’d filled up hot-water bottles in the kitchen. Only now, she looked fantastic. ‘I’ve been following a diet by Dr Zoë Harcombe,’ she said. ‘For the first time I’m not in pain.’
That night, I did some research. Although it sounded drastic – I’d have to cut out dairy, sugar and all processed food – I decided to give it a go. I crammed my diet with vegetables, olive oil, meat, fish and wholegrains and by the time I went for my next gynaecological appointment, I felt brighter and more energetic. The pain was lessening day by day.
That’s when I told my doctor I wasn’t going to go ahead with treatment. ‘I need to see if I can help myself first,’ I said. He looked absolutely stunned.
The best possible news
Although the pain was disappearing, every month I still faced a negative pregnancy test.
So when in July 2011, two lines appeared, I thought I was imagining it. Anthony and I screamed with delight. But the doctors weren’t nearly as positive. ‘Your cervix isn’t strong enough to sustain this pregnancy,’ the consultant told us at our first scan.
For the next few months, we took each day as it came. I bought a heart monitor, so I could keep track of the baby. And we didn’t buy anything for the nursery until I was almost eight months pregnant.
Finally at 42 weeks, I was induced. On 18 March 2012 – Mother’s Day – my beautiful baby girl Isabelle was born. The next day I walked out of the same hospital that had told me I’d never have a baby, with my daughter bundled in my arms.
After nine months of pregnancy, my endometriosis symptoms had almost completely disappeared. When they did finally come back, the pain was a fraction of what it used to be.
In 2014, I retrained as a nutritionist and set up a health centre in South Wales based on the principles of the Harcombe diet. I’ve since released a cookbook with Zoë herself.
Today, I still follow the Harcombe diet, and I’ve slimmed down to 11st. When I think how close I came to giving up on having a baby, I shiver.
I’ll never underestimate my body again. Despite what the doctors said, I cured my infertility and it gave me the Mother’s Day miracle I’d always dreamed of.
✱ The Real Food Cook Book, by Ellen Picton and Zoë Harcombe (£15, Columbus Publishing) is out now.
‘They said i was infertile’