Pimmy, 33, shares her true life story
I was cradling my abdominal muscles have separated by 2cm,” she said, frowning.
I glanced down at the saggy, bloated skin and the deep groove that snaked along the middle of my stomach. I wasn’t surprised.
The moment my husband, Michael, and I had discovered we were expecting, I knew it would take a toll on my body.
At 146cm tall and weighing just 38kg, I had a naturally small frame and as my belly grew, it strained under the weight.
It was a relief when our son Tyson was born by emergency caesarean, weighing a healthy 3.25kg. Inspecting my wrinkly, sunken tummy, he’d certainly left his mark on my body.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” the nurse assured me. “With regular physio it’ll return to normal,” she said. It was a small price to pay for the beautiful boy sleeping soundly in my arms.
When we brought Tyson home, our world became a series of sleepless nights, feeds and nappies. Any thoughts of physio were quickly forgotten.
But with the muscles no longer sitting in the centre of my stomach, I had constant back pain so I started wearing a stomach support – a band of material that wrapped firmly around my waist. Slowly, it pulled everything into place.
Nine months pregnant with Alexander.
Six months later, I was changing Tyson’s nappy when I noticed blood in his poo. I rushed him to the doctor and he was diagnosed with an allergy to the protein in cow’s milk .
I cut dairy from my diet so it wouldn’t be in my breastmilk, but the blood in Tyson’s nappy continued. Doctors couldn’t tell what might be causing it.
Months later, he developed abscesses on his bottom, which then spread to the rest of his body – he was constantly crying from the pain. It broke my heart.
We spent several days in hospital while doctors drained the abscesses and did countless blood tests to try to find was wrong.
Three months later, just before Tyson turned two, they finally diagnosed him with a rare genetic disorder – chronic granulomatous disease.
“Most of us have a type of white blood cell that absorbs any germs then kills them,” the doctor explained. “But Tyson’s just absorb the germs.”
It meant his immune system was weakened, which was causing the constant infections. Doctors discovered I was the carrier of the disorder but because the disease doesn’t affect females, I’d never have symptoms. My son, however, would battle with it for the rest of his life.
I was riddled with guilt.The only cure was a bone marrow transplant to replace his white blood cells. Without it, Tyson’s life expectancy was just 20 years.
Michael and I held each other as we cried.
“We have no choice,” I sobbed. “We have to find him a donor.”
We couldn’t donate because I was a carrier and Michael didn’t have the complete genetic match. The doctor explained our best option was to have another baby, who would have the exact same genetics as Tyson.
“Your abs have separated”
Michael and I wanted a second child, we’d only put it off because Tyson was so sick.
To ensure the disease wasn’t passed on and that the baby would be a donor match, we went through IVF. Soon, I fell pregnant again.
The gap between my abs had only just closed but it didn’t matter, I had to save our boy. Thankfully, I had a smooth pregnancy and forgot all about my stomach muscles until the last few weeks, when I developed a bad rash.
My doctor said it was a simple stretch irritation and two weeks later, I gave birth via a planned C-section. The second I locked eyes with our second son, Alexander, my heart filled with love.
We had to wait until he was at least six months old to do the transplant, as he’d need to be put under general anaesthetic, but one day he’d save his big brother’s life.
“You’re a born hero,” I told him. A few hours later, the nurse did her routine check.
“Your abs have separated again,” she said.
I hadn’t even thought about them or noticed that familiar, dull ache.
This time the gap was 3cm, but with a newborn baby and sick child, I didn’t have time to worry about it. Besides, I knew my stomach band would bring it back to normal.
At home a few weeks later, my caesarean scar started to sting. Wincing in pain, I looked down to find blood dripping from the wound. I rushed to hospital and was diagnosed with a common staph infection.
After a course of antibiotics, my scar continued to heal.
Holding newborn Alexander.
But I couldn’t say the same for my abdominal muscles. After three months of wearing the stomach support, there was still a gaping 3cm hole in my tummy and the skin around it was more bloated and wrinkled than ever.
One morning I discovered an angry and itchy rash on my belly. I tried not to scratch it but it was impossible, and lotion did nothing to heal it. It felt like my skin was on fire!
My doctor didn’t know what was causing it and suggested using various steroid creams, but they didn’t work either. If anything, they only made it worse.
The pain was excruciating.
It got so bad I couldn’t sleep, and after being awake for 48 hours, I was at my wit’s end.
“I don’t want to live in my skin anymore,” I sobbed to doctors. A skin specialist told me that in order for my rash to heal it needed to be well moisturised, and prescribed me a special compound cream that was gentle and sensitive.
I was so desperate I forked out $60 for it, but that didn’t work either!
“I give up,” I said to Michael after months of applying it. I stopped using the various creams and finally, without all the lotions irritating the skin, the itchiness slowly went away.
Then the redness disappeared.
It felt like I could breathe again and I slept for the first time in weeks. But my heart still sinks when I look at myself in the mirror and see the big gap my separated muscles have left.
My family is everything to me.
Over a year later, it’s still 3cm-wide. I’m starting to think it will be like that forever.
My doctor says my stomach will go back to normal with time and he’s going to help me organise a care plan soon, but right now, my main priority is the health of our two boys.
With Alex old enough to have the surgery, Tyson has finally had his transplant. It’s too early to see if the surgery was a success but we’ll know if he’s been cured in six months.
Every time we’re at hospital, I explain to Tyson that his little brother had a special medicine in his body that helped him. He was worried Alex could get hurt but I promised him he’d be okay.
“Thank you for saving me,” Tyson says to Alex every day.
My torn apart stomach is just a physical sign of the harrowing years Michael and I have had, but we’d do it all again in a heartbeat to have our boys healthy.
They’ll always come first.
