I brushed off my worrying symptoms as extreme morning sickness

I didn’t think anything was especially wrong when I ended up in hospital in the middle of my second pregnancy, four years ago.  

I was violently ill with my first child, Reggie, so when I got the crippling symptoms of hyperemesis gravidarum – also known as extreme morning sickness – when I fell pregnant with my second, Connie, it came as no real surprise.  

I wasn’t worried that I was in and out of hospital for months, living off Lucozade and anti-sickness tablets – dehydrated and exhausted. Even after five months of relentless sickness, when I was hit with severe diarrhoea, I put it down to medication and pregnancy hormones. 

It was eight months into the pregnancy that I finally realised something was very wrong. 

I was at home and trying to get through the day with an active preschooler when I felt an intense pain rip through my belly and back. I didn’t know if it was labour or if I had an infection.  

Amidst the pain, I managed to dial my mum’s number, who called an ambulance and I was taken into hospital where I was given an ultrasound to check my kidneys.  

As I was being scanned by the sonographer, she paused. I was in so much pain and my heart was racing – something felt wrong. She went to get a colleague to check something she didn’t understand. 

The silent pause while I waited for both sonographers to check me over lasted for what felt like a lifetime. Then everything came crashing down on me when they told me there was a mass on my bowel.  

After that, everything happened in a blur.  

An MRI confirmed the insidious mass and more tests were ordered, including a sigmoidoscopy – an examination of the lower part of my colon – and a scan. I couldn’t have any sedation as I was pregnant, and I couldn’t have any family with me due to Covid.  

It was tough and lonely, but I just focused on keeping my baby safe. 

Following a biopsy, I was told I had bowel cancer and I needed to deliver my baby as quickly as possible.  

I think I went numb at that point. I don’t remember taking it all in. I was so focused on getting Connie out safely that I buried it and decided I would face everything else after she was born and safe.  

They told me I couldn’t have a C-section since they had to perform surgery for the tumour and couldn’t open me up twice. It was a startling thing to hear, but again, I dug it deep down. 

I chose to be induced on 21 December. It was a 12-hour labour and Connie was breech, but like a miracle, she turned at the last minute.  

I couldn’t believe it when she’d arrived after going through so much. I was so happy she was safe. 

My surgeon Kat Baker told me my operation was scheduled a few weeks later, on 17 January and that I should go home. She told me to enjoy Christmas as much as I could and allow my body to semi-recover before the surgery.

I tried to have a good time and be as normal as possible but the operation was lingering at the back of my mind. I was with Connie, my miracle, and so she got me through it, until Christmas Day. 

I cried for two days because everything I had been through came crashing down on me

I spotted blood in my poo and I felt so unwell I had to go back into hospital, where I stayed under supervision.  

For the first few days I was out of it. As I started to come round everything hit me.

Reggie came in at one point, but I didn’t want to scare him. The nurses gave him a stoma teddy to take him so he could understand what was going on. Connie was brought in twice, but those days were tough and very tearful.  

Two weeks later, while in hospital my bowel perforated, which can be fatal. The pain was unlike anything else and everything suddenly became an emergency. It was horrendous. For the first time I really thought I wasn’t going to make it. 

I don’t remember much that happened after that but I was rushed in for emergency surgery to remove the tumour, and a wash-out – where they wash the infection out of your abdomen.

When I came to, my body was still open from the top of my tummy to the bottom. Because it was an emergency, they couldn’t do keyhole surgery and they couldn’t close me up because they had to do the surgery in two parts. 

I had to lay there for two days with a line in my neck which fed me and gave me medication. I don’t remember much about this time. Two days later, I went back into surgery and they did another wash-out and put a stoma in. 

It was hellish but an incredible success. They removed the tumour completely and took 75 lymph nodes to check and not one of them had cancer in. It was the best of a rubbish situation but all the cancer had gone. 

On January 17, I was able to leave the hospital and go to my mum’s house to recover. I cried for two days because everything I had been through came crashing down on me.  

I couldn’t wait to spend some time with Reggie – he was only four and didn’t really understand what was happening. I had barely seen him since and couldn’t wait to hold him and my newborn daughter. 

It was so hard missing those first few weeks of Connie’s life. When I got back, I was still in recovery and unable to be the mum I wanted to be. It was five weeks before I could hold her properly or change her nappy.  

I started preventative chemo on my birthday in February for three months all while navigating being a new mother again. Luckily, I had no horrendous side effects from the infusions and tablets but mentally, the juggle was incredibly tough. 

In May, I finished my chemo and celebrated with a break with my family to Warwickshire and later I had a cancer-free party.  

I had another operation in July, carried out by the same surgeon via keyhole surgery and I am now stoma free.  

I feel incredibly lucky that the cancer was found later on in my pregnancy so that Connie had the chance to arrive safely. She is my miracle child. 

But then we experienced further heartbreak. In June 2023, My dad, who was a massive part of my support system helping look after the kids while I was in hospital, had been told he had three months to live after his cancer returned.  

We had only 17 days together and I was devastated to lose him. There was so much trauma happening around me at a time I was supposed to be enjoying motherhood. 

I am now on a five-year surveillance programme, which means I have blood tests and yearly scans. My aim now is to live as healthy and happily as possible and raise awareness about stoma use. 

It’s been a tough road – I have been verbally abused for changing my stoma bag in a disabled toilet, which left me feeling scarred by it all. 

To celebrate, two and a half years after the diagnosis, I got ‘lucky’ tattooed on my arm – now every time I look at it, I’m reminded of everything I survived. 

I have been raising money for Macmillan and Cancer Research UK with sponsored walks and I am raising awareness about ultra-processed foods online – I want younger generations to be mindful about healthy eating.

I am part of the purple sticker campaign, which aims to raise awareness and encourage businesses and public spaces to improve disabled toilet accessibility. 

The doctors and the support I have had have been incredible, and I am now in counselling as I process what I have been through. 

But going through something like that – it stays with you. It’s traumatic. 

I still get anxious when I have to go to the hospital. It was the worst thing that could have happened but I had the best outcome.  

And for that I am ever grateful. 

As told to Sarah Ingram.

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