Translated material
I received disability after childbirth
Akerke Beisenbek, a 28-year-old from Kazakhstan, blogs about motherhood and living with a disability due to complications during childbirth. To facilitate childbirth, doctors cut her perineum, and Akerke later discovered that the contents of the intestines were coming out through the vagina. Now the girl is forced to live with a stoma - an opening in the abdomen to which a bag is attached to drain the intestinal contents. Akerke told Kholod her story and explained why she decided to talk about it publicly.
The doctor cut my crotch and said “oops.” Now I live with a poo bag
At the time of pregnancy, in 2021, I was 25 years old. This was my third attempt to give birth to a child - two previous pregnancies were miscarriages. On the day of birth, I was already 40 weeks. I started having contractions, and my husband and I went to the hospital at about four in the morning. After examination, the doctors said that there was no dilation of the cervix, which is necessary for the passage of the child. Usually it reaches ten centimeters, but in my case it was not there at all.
I was admitted to the emergency room - from that moment all hell broke loose. I lay there until nine in the morning, the contractions did not stop for five hours. Due to unbearable pain, I could not walk, eat or sleep. By evening I was still not taken to the maternity ward and it became clear to me that something was going wrong. I turned to the midwife for help several times, but she dismissed it dismissively, as if I was interfering with her work. She told me to go back to the room and be patient.
I had to call my husband, and through friends he got me examined again. By that time, almost a day had passed, and there was still no disclosure. The contractions became stronger, the intervals between them were reduced to three minutes, and the pain came in waves - it seemed like it would never end. I screamed and moaned, but no one paid attention to me. By morning, another midwife came in and, seeing my condition, helped - she manually stretched the cervix to two centimeters. But she told the doctors that the dilation had reached four centimeters - only thanks to this I was finally transferred to the delivery room.
"Okay, no big deal"
My husband came to the maternity hospital to be there and support me. I received an epidural in my lumbar spine, which is often given during childbirth to relieve pain in the lower part of the body. Thanks to this, I was able to get some sleep, but when the anesthesia began to wear off, the pain became unbearable. Fortunately, the baby's heartbeat remained stable.
I don’t remember how long this torment lasted. I only remember that I was ready to do anything to stop the pain - I just wanted to jump out of the window. I didn’t think about the child or myself, only that this would all end as soon as possible.
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To speed up the process, I had my amniotic sac ( a sac filled with amniotic fluid that surrounds and protects the baby. - Kholoda's note ) pierced and an episiotomy ( a surgical incision in the perineum to avoid vaginal rupture during childbirth. - Kholoda's note). ). And then I heard the doctors say, “Oh,” and the nurse tried to reassure the midwife by saying, “Okay, it’s okay.”
Then they gave me labor stimulation: they caused strong, involuntary contractions of the muscles of the uterus. They were supposed to help the baby move through the birth canal. I was told to push as hard as I could, but the midwife periodically went into the next room, leaving me alone in agony. My husband was nearby all this time and was forced to shout to the staff to come back.
A nurse, a doctor and a midwife came into the delivery room. Someone pressed on my stomach, someone supported me, and in the end I gave birth. I thought that was all over, but a few minutes later they took me away to stitch up the tears. It seemed to me that they were doing this without anesthesia: I felt every puncture and every sore point. They sewed for about 40 minutes: I screamed, cried, begged to stop. When I was returned to the delivery room, I enjoyed the welcome silence and respite from the pain. They left me with the baby in my arms, but I could barely move.
There are days when I hate my body
Returning to the ward, I experienced severe weakness: I could not go to the toilet on my own or even stand upright. Every time I tried to raise my head, I felt dizzy and almost lost consciousness. Later it turned out that I had a rectovaginal fistula - an opening between the vagina and intestines. His treatment required a complex three-stage operation.
First, I had a colostomy installed - an opening in my abdomen to drain the contents of my intestines into a special bag that is attached externally. I then had a fistula repair to close the hole, and finally had to close the colostomy hole to get my bowels moving again. Everything went well, but after the plastic surgery there was a recurrence of the rectovaginal fistula. Now I have a third group of disability. Perhaps a new operation will help improve the situation, but I am in no hurry to do it - I understand that a relapse can happen again.
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A colostomy requires careful daily care: the colostomy bag needs to be changed one to three times a day. The care process includes several stages: first I clean the skin around the stoma with an adhesive remover, then I apply a protective paste against leaks. After this, I use a soothing powder to protect the skin from damage and finish everything with a moisturizer, which helps the skin better tolerate contact with the colostomy bag.
Despite all the difficulties, you can live a full life with a colostomy bag: work, travel and enjoy every day. I'm learning to accept my condition. Sometimes I hate my body and it seems that everything is bad, and there are days when I just live a normal life, almost not noticing the peculiarities of my condition.
I am very lucky that my husband is a doctor. He understands my condition well and helps me take care of my stoma, supports and cares. One day he even decided to try wearing a colostomy bag himself in order to better understand my sensations. After this experience, he said that he felt not only physical discomfort and heaviness, but also a constant worry that the bag might come off or tear.
I receive dozens of messages from women
I started blogging after I had a colostomy. Then I felt very lonely, as if I was the only one in the world with such a problem. Everything changed when I accidentally saw a video of a guy from America who openly shared his experience of living with a colostomy. His courage inspired me: if he is not afraid to talk about it, then I can too.
When I started sharing my experience, there were unexpectedly many responses. I realized that there are many people around with postpartum complications, and we all lack support and information. That's why I created a telegram channel for ostomy patients - there we exchange useful tips and help each other with care products. And the blog has become a place of support for those who have gone through similar trials and are striving to return to a full life.
Every day I receive dozens of messages from women about the shortcomings of our healthcare system. I am amazed by the scale of the problem and how often we are left alone with our pain. We deserve better - quality medical care and respect for our rights. While this is difficult to achieve, it is important to talk about it openly, to share our experiences so that our stories do not remain in the shadows. Only by understanding the true scale of the problem can we make the necessary changes and prevent similar tragedies in the future.
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Author: Kholod editors Photo: akerkebeysenbek / Instagram