Fibroids During Pregnancy

Artwork by Richard Kahwagi. Photos by Annie Spratt and Ella Jardim on Unsplash

Not a lot of people know what fibroids are. I certainly didn’t until I was diagnosed. They are non-cancerous tumours that grow in or around the uterus. Even then I didn’t think they were a big deal, but my mindset changed as time went on.

I was early in my pregnancy with my daughter, around 10 weeks. Due to my history with miscarriages, I was already a nervous wreck during that period. It’s said that 12 weeks is the “safe zone”, where you’re unlikely to miscarry from then. Of course, I knew better than to follow that analogy. One of my previous pregnancies unfortunately ended at 14 weeks, when I thought I was “safe”. Although I tried to be optimistic, the devastating events made me extra cautious this time around. 

For the first 9 weeks, everything was plain sailing. No morning sickness, a healthy heartbeat detected at 8 weeks, no real concerns other than my history; but when I got to week 10, that’s when everything changed. I started getting sharp pains in my abdominal area that wouldn’t go away and they were almost crippling. I called 111 to seek advice and they advised that I take myself to A&E. Even after I explained how much pain I was in, the operator insisted that ambulance services near me were stretched beyond their capacity that night, so it was best that I took myself. I was terrified that I was having yet another miscarriage, so I didn’t want to call my partner. He was happy about the pregnancy so all I thought about was possibly disappointing him. It made sense at the time that I go alone and inform him once I knew what was happening. Nevertheless, I made my way to the hospital which wasn’t far, but considering I was barely able to walk properly, it felt like it was miles away. 

The A&E department was chaotic! Bear in mind it was a Saturday night so I knew I’d possibly be there for a while, but I assumed that pregnancy would be treated as a matter of urgency. I was wrong! I was promised painkillers that never came, I wasn’t offered anything to drink or checked on. It was at least 3 hours before I was seen for the general blood pressure/temperature check, but overall, it was 6 hours before I was seen by an actual doctor. When I was finally called in, he apologised for the wait and even let me know that he was the only A&E doctor working that night. At that point I took a mental note to make sure I didn’t give birth in that hospital because it was terrible! 

When it came to my diagnosis, off-the-record he said he thought I had fibroids just by looking at me. He came to this assumption because I was already showing even though I was only 10 weeks but looked like I was at least 20 weeks. When he did examine me, he explained that fibroids were non-cancerous tumours and I had nothing to worry about, but they needed to check the location of the fibroids and make sure they didn’t interfere with the growth of the baby. He then made a call to another department, and I’ll never forget when he said, “Yes, she’s Black”. That completely threw me off because what has the colour of my skin got to do with anything? It wasn’t funny at the time but now I look back and laugh because I really thought I was being set up or something. He must have saw the expression on my face, because when he got off the phone, he let me know that fibroids are more common in Black women so he wanted to let the midwife know what to look for when I went for an ultrasound. He then sent me to the other side of the hospital. Considering I was still in pain, I’m still shocked that a porter wasn’t arranged to take me down. Even during the ultrasound, there was still no sense of urgency. “Yes, baby is fine, but you have 3 fibroids so when you go for your 12-week scan, tell them.” Then I was prescribed codeine to take home. That was it.

From then on, I was in hospital pretty much every week until I reached 34 weeks, which is when I eventually gave birth. I was a primary school teacher at the time so I felt like I was letting my kids down, and although most of my colleagues were supportive, I couldn’t help but think that they thought I was being over the top. When other members of staff were pregnant, they only had time off for appointments and even worked up until the last week before due! So why was I different? It seriously affected my self-esteem. 

Each time I did have to go to the hospital, the lack of urgency just got worse. I would literally be on the floor in agony, and no one would check on me. It was only when my partner started getting angry and fighting on my behalf for me to be seen immediately that more was done. It’s like they definitely could have seen me sooner but didn’t want to. Each trip always ended the same, with more painkillers to take home. I felt helpless. This outcome didn’t change at all, and my fibroids were doubling in size and quantity as time went on.

The day I gave birth was so dramatic and didn’t need to be if I’d just been seen sooner. My waters broke at 33 weeks due to the largest fibroid resting in my birth canal and preventing my baby from turning. After a couple of days in hospital, I was sent home to wait it out. But less than a day after being sent home I was back in hospital. I went into labour and had contractions that were seconds apart but once again wasn’t attended to until my partner made noise. When I was checked over by the doctor, he said they would need to prep me for surgery and my uterus was close to rupturing. I went into full panic mode and even as he delivered this news, there was so much nonchalance in his demeanour like it was no big deal. I’m basically being told that if I was left for any longer, I would have had internal bleeding and it’s no big deal?! 

The aftercare wasn’t any better. The recovery room was freezing cold, and my premature baby’s crib was placed right under a vent. According to midwives on site, there was nowhere in the hospital for me to go as a lot of women gave birth that day. I was appalled. But luckily for me, one midwife didn’t give up on me. It was even the end of her shift, but she stayed and called around for hours until a room on the ward was ready for me. It just so happens that she was a BLACK midwife and was also disgusted that I was going to be left in a cold recovery room with my premature baby. The difference in the way she treated me in comparison to the way I had been treated throughout my pregnancy by most of the healthcare workers (not all) was more than I knew was possible. She was urgent. She was caring. She was reassuring, especially with my partner who was so upset by the whole ordeal. She put my well-being before her desire to go home for the night and if she hadn’t, myself and daughter may have become really ill. 

Since then, my fibroids continued to grow even though I was told they were only growing due to pregnancy hormones and would most likely shrink after I had given birth. I was finally given a referral to have them removed during a myomectomy (a surgical procedure to remove fibroids) 8 months later and was relieved of the symptoms. But after doing my own research and speaking with other women who’ve had similar experiences, it’s clear that even doctors - well the majority of them don’t know much about fibroids themselves. Nutrition isn’t spoken about enough and I’ve noticed that cutting certain foods from my diet has helped dramatically. Surgery and pills are hasty remedies and do not deal with the root of the problem. In my opinion it’s lazy and I probably would have had a better pregnancy if I’d known more about what fuels the growth of fibroids and other tumours. For it to be common in Black women, it makes sense why it’s not treated as an urgent matter and the suggested treatment or “quick fix” as I like to call it, is surgery - in some cases a hysterectomy. 

I’ve read in a few articles that it’s assumed Black women can tolerate more pain than white women and this ideology is so wrong and dangerous. This article I read explains how some medical students believe that Black patients feel less pain than white patients: https://www.statnews.com/2016/04/04/medical-students-beliefs-race-pain/

Black mothers are more at risk of dying during childbirth due to this stereotype and it’s terrifying to think of myself as another statistic if I wasn’t seen to quickly enough, or what would have happened to my new-born daughter if the Black midwife hadn’t advocated for me. Let’s be honest, during that time I could barely advocate for myself. 

Black people shouldn’t be scared to go to their GP or hospital out of fear they won’t be treated well or taken seriously. We know our bodies and ultimately know when something isn’t right. Being told to wait longer than we need to or being seen as “dramatic” needs to be nipped in the bud. Our lives matter too. 

That being said, I strongly believe that the healthcare system needs updating in terms of their teachings. Nutrition is a huge factor that needs to be researched and considered more when diagnosing patients and exploring treatments. It’s also necessary to learn more about what different conditions look like on/within Black people. We all deserve the same level of care and if we are being encouraged to be responsible for our own health, we shouldn’t feel scared to seek the appropriate care. Black health matters.

For more information on Fibroids visit: https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/fibroids/