Once a month, Carla’s mental health deteriorated. In a bid to recover, she did something drastic…
As I watched two blue lines form on the pregnancy test, a wave of relief washed over me.
‘It’s positive,’ I said to my husband.
I was delighted to add to our brood, giving my daughter Isla, two, a sibling.
And knowing I had nine months of pregnancy ahead was a dream come true.
Since my periods started, aged 10, I’d suffered from premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), a severe form of PMS.
For two weeks every month, I suffered anxiety, mood swings and depression.
Ovulation sent my hormones haywire – one day I could be happy as Larry, the next I could feel suicidal.
I was forced to plan my life around my menstrual cycle and I was in and out of jobs because of my condition.
Over the years, I’d tried birth control, antidepressants and an implant in an attempt to ease my symptoms.
But nothing worked as well as pregnancy. It stopped my hormones fluctuating and, as a result, my mental health improved.
Nine months later, I gave birth to my precious son, Harry.
Only then my symptoms returned with full force.
I spent the first few weeks of Harry’s life in tears, once again unable to cope with the world.
‘I want a hysterectomy,’ I told my doctor.
It was an extreme option, but having my womb and ovaries surgically removed would fix the problem once and for all.
I felt like my family was complete and I’d deliberately had babies in my early 20s for this reason.
Eventually, my doctor agreed to give me hormone suppressing injections.
‘If these work, we can perform a hysterectomy,’ he told me.
Once we’d worked out the correct dosage, my mood lifted and I was given the go-ahead for the operation.
Before the surgery rolled around, I split with my husband.
Eventually, I decided to re-enter the dating scene, but vowed to only see men who had kids, to avoid any sticky situations further down the line.
Luckily, I met Ashlea, who already had two children from a previous relationship.
On the day of my operation, I felt pure excitement.
Before the surgery could begin, the consultant had one last reminder for me.
‘I want to check you understand the implications of this surgery,’ he said. ‘It’s going to age you overnight.’
With my ovaries gone, my body would enter menopause – meaning wrinkles, weight gain and joint problems.
I’d be 27 in the body of a 50-year-old.
‘I don’t care,’ I replied. ‘I need this.’
The surgery lasted nine hours after I suffered internal bleeding, but, four days on, I arrived home, ready for a second chance at life.
Within a fortnight, I felt lighter and brighter. It was like a weight had been lifted.
I’m still going through the menopause now, and although it’s been tricky to navigate at times, it’s better than what I had to cope with before.
PMDD can be hereditary and now my daughter is nearing puberty I sometimes worry she might have it too. If she does, I’ll support her no matter what.
My journey has inspired Ashlea and myself to set up a community interest company to support children and young people with emotional regulation and mental health support.
I’m living proof that things can get better.
By Carla Blanksby, 31, of Boston, Lincolnshire