My baby dream is over
My desperation for a baby nearly killed me... Laura Battrum, 35, Birmingham
Opening my eyes, I scanned the hospital room, confused and in pain.
Then I remembered why this would all be worthwhile.
It was January 2017 – and after years of failed diets, I’d gone for a gastric sleeve.
The surgery, while extreme, was my last resort.
Paving the way for us to start a family...
Big my entire life, I’d even been taunted by strangers in the street.
‘Elephant! Rhino!’ they’d shout out.
I hated myself even more after my marriage of two years had imploded.
Then, in October 2010, I met Steve, 29, online.
For the first time in years, I was happy.
So much so, we started trying for a baby. But there was a snag... At 22 stone and suffering with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), I went around in circles.
The bigger I was, the less likely it was I’d fall pregnant.
PCOS made it hard to conceive, even harder to lose weight.
If only I could lower the number on the scales, we might stand a chance.
I hit the gym, tried every diet, even took weight-loss pills.
‘No matter what I do, nothing changes,’ I cried. ‘Maybe it’s time for surgery.’
‘Whatever you decide, I’ll support you,’ Steve said.
Steve had lost 16 stone himself, after a gastric sleeve. He was trim and healthy.
I’d resisted doing the same, wanted to lose weight naturally.
But maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all...
Desperate for a family, I took the plunge.
The night before my op in January 2017, my nerves kicked in.
‘Am I doing the right thing?’ I asked Steve.
‘It depends how much you want it,’ he said.
With my arms aching for a baby, I braved the surgeon’s knife.
Afterwards, I was in agony, and I couldn’t eat a thing.
Exhausted but excited, I was soon discharged.
Following doctor’s orders, I stuck to a strict liquid diet.
Recovery was tiring – and with Steve at work, I went to stay with my mum Alison, 55, nearby.
I took a hot shower and then Mum helped me dress.
‘Look at your back, it’s all red, love,’ she said.
My shoulders and arms were blotchy, too.
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘It’ll fade when I cool down.’ Only, it didn’t. I was prescribed antihistamine cream and antibiotics for a water infection.
I tumbled from one ailment to the next… My hands swelled, then I felt sick and developed a fever.
But the GP wasn’t concerned, so I slept as much as I could.
It’ll all be worth it in the end,
I told myself. But late one night, my eyes flew open. It felt as if an elephant was sitting on my chest. I called for Steve – well, croaked... When he saw me gasping for breath, he dialled 111. An ambulance rushed me to hospital, as everything blurred. Next thing I knew, I was being prepared for surgery. I’d developed sepsis, a potentially deadly infection. There was just one thing on my mind. ‘Will you reverse the sleeve?’ I asked, desperate not to go back to square one. ‘I won’t know till I get in there,’ the surgeon said. Then everything went black. When I came round, Mum was next to me, her eyes wet with tears. ‘Oh Laura!’ she cried. I tried to speak but realised there was something blocking my throat. I learnt I’d been in a coma for six weeks,
a machine helping me breathe.
Though the gastric sleeve was still in place, I’d needed five operations.
The sepsis had attacked my organs and tissues. Almost killed me. If we’d have left it just a couple more days, I would have died.
Now, I had a catheter, stoma and a scar running down from my chest to my pubic bone.
In shock, I struggled to take it all in.
After a week, I could finally talk.
‘I can’t believe this,’ I sobbed.
‘I don’t understand it, either,’ Steve said.
How did Steve’s op go so smoothly? And mine such a complete disaster?
Quizzing the doctors, I tried to get to the bottom of things.
‘But what happened?’ I pushed. ‘Why did I get so ill?’ ‘We don’t know,’ one said. Stuck in hospital with a nasal feeding tube, I lost more than 10 stone in six months.
For years, I’d dreamt of being thin. But not like this.
The gastric sleeve should have made things better. Now, my body was barely functioning.
I had one medical bag for my wee, another for my waste. Two more collected leaking pus from my ribcage and abdomen.
In and out of hospital, my immune system was shot to pieces. So weak, I couldn’t even go to the loo alone.
I despaired. There were even times I wished the infection had killed me.
Until... In September, I had my first meal in nine months.
Macaroni cheese. A little plate of heaven.
It reminded me that life could still be enjoyable.
I ploughed energy into getting stronger, back on track. I’m slowly recovering. But the reality is, I’ll never be the same again.
My dream of falling pregnant is long gone.
Unable to work at the moment, I take antidepressants to help me cope with it all.
I feel dreadful for what I’ve put my family through, especially Steve.
Though my weight has dropped to 8st 12lb, I’m no closer to my dreams. Was the op worth it? No way. I’m taking legal action to find out what happened and why.
Meanwhile, I’m sharing my story to highlight the risk and signs of sepsis.
If you develop patches of discoloured skin, become confused, struggle to breathe or pass urine, or have a fever, seek help right away.
If we’d known what to look out for, things might have been very different.
Know the symptoms and don’t let sepsis ruin your life.
I dreamt of being thin for years but not like this