Your Health, Your Voice
The Things We Don’t Always Say Out Loud
There are some experiences in life that stay with you. Not always in obvious ways, but quietly, in the background. Shaping how you see the world, how you understand yourself, and how you respond to others.
This is one of those for me.
It’s something I wasn’t sure I would ever share. But days like International Day of Action for Women’s Health (coming up on the 28th May) feel like an important reminder that these stories matter – even the difficult ones, especially the difficult ones. Because somewhere, someone else might be feeling just as scared, just as alone, just as unsure.
And maybe this helps them feel a little less so.
I Was Seventeen
I was 17 when it happened.
Still a teenager. Still figuring out who I was, where I was going, what life even looked like beyond school, friends, and everything that feels so big at that age.
And then suddenly, I was faced with something I wasn’t prepared for.
At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I just knew I was in pain. Real, overwhelming pain. The kind that takes your breath away and makes everything else fade into the background.
I fainted several times. I was scared. Confused. Completely out of my depth.
And yet, I didn’t tell my parents.
Not because they wouldn’t have been there for me – they absolutely would have. They’re incredible. But I was 17. I was frightened. I didn’t know how to say the words out loud, let alone process what was happening myself.
So I went through a lot of it alone.
Have you ever been in a situation where you needed support, but didn’t know how to ask for it? Where fear keeps you quiet, even when everything inside you is telling you to reach out? That was where I was.
The Moment Everything Changed
I stayed in the hospital overnight. The pain didn’t ease. The fear didn’t go away. If anything, it grew.
The next morning, I had a scan.
And everything suddenly became urgent.
I was told I needed surgery – immediately. My fallopian tube was at risk of rupturing. It was serious. Potentially life-threatening.
That was the moment I called my parents.
They arrived just before I was taken into surgery. I remember the relief of seeing them, but also the weight of everything that had led up to that moment. The fear. The silence. The ‘what ifs.’
The surgery went well. Physically, I recovered.
But emotionally? That took longer.
The Things That Stay With You
For a long time, I carried a quiet fear with me.
What if this has affected my fertility?
What if I can’t have children in the future?
What if this moment at 17 has shaped the rest of my life in ways I can’t control?
I didn’t always say those thoughts out loud. But they were there. Lingering in the background as life moved on.
Through my twenties, through relationships, through all the usual milestones, that question stayed with me.
It’s strange how experiences like that don’t just end when the physical healing does. They follow you, in subtle ways, in quiet moments.
Where I Am Now
Today, I have two incredible children.
They are my entire world.
And I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to say that. Because I know that isn’t everyone’s story. And I know how close I came, at one point, to a very different path.
But when I look back at 17-year-old me, what stays with me most isn’t just the fear or the pain. It’s the reality that I hadn’t yet made a decision about that pregnancy.
I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what I was ready for. But deep down, I think I knew that at 17, motherhood wasn’t something I could take on.
And that was my reality. My life. My decision to make.
Not anyone else’s.
Why This Matters
Women’s health is complex. It’s physical, emotional, deeply personal. And yet, so often, it’s something we don’t talk about enough. Or when we do, it’s simplified, generalised, or spoken about in ways that don’t fully reflect the lived experiences behind it.
There isn’t always enough support. Not enough open conversation. Not enough understanding of what it really feels like to be in these moments – vulnerable, scared, trying to make sense of something overwhelming.
And when it comes to our bodies, our health, our futures, those experiences matter.
The choices we face.
The emotions we carry.
The circumstances we navigate.
They are not one-size-fits-all.
They are deeply individual.
And that’s why autonomy – the ability to make decisions about your own body and your own life – is so important.
Because no one else is living your experience.
A Space for Reflection
This isn’t an easy topic. And it’s not meant to be.
But maybe it opens up a moment of reflection.
Have you ever felt unheard when it comes to your health?
Have you ever questioned whether there was enough support available to you?
Have you ever carried an experience quietly, unsure if anyone else would understand?
You’re not alone in that. We’re not alone.
Moving Forward
Days like International Day of Action for Women’s Health aren’t just about awareness, they’re about creating space. Space for conversations. For stories. For honesty.
Because when we share, even when it feels difficult, we create connection. And in that connection, there’s understanding. There’s support. There’s change.
Looking back, I wish 17-year-old me had felt able to speak up sooner. To lean on the people around me. To not carry so much on my own.
But I also recognise the strength it took to get through that moment.
And I know there are others out there, navigating their own versions of this. Quietly, bravely, doing the best they can.
If that’s you, I hope you know this:
Your experience matters.
Your voice matters.
And your choices, about your body, your health, your future, should always be yours.
