SURGERY - PELVIC FLOOR RECONSTRUCTION

Lil cheeky snippet of my in my sexy op gear... these stockings are with me for 2 weeks!

Hey lovelies…

As promised, here is my post-surgery update to let you know how things went and how early recovery is going. I was so happy to receive so many messages from you following my last blog, where I touched on the pelvic floor, how to keep it healthy, and the ways in which you can support it. I also opened up about my own journey and how I found myself at the decision to have surgery.

Your messages have been wholesome and encouraging. They’ve reinforced, for me, the importance of talking about “taboo” subjects—those things we feel embarrassment or shame around when, really, we don’t need to. I’m so grateful for this body of mine, and that simple reframe has been extremely powerful in my journey toward self-love and acceptance.

The surgery was scheduled for Wednesday 9th April, and let me tell you—I was surprised at how much the lead-up impacted me. While I accept that taking time off work and doing this Kundalini course in parallel with surgery may have added to the stress, I really struggled to sleep the nights leading up to it.

In fact, the day before my course started—when I’d hoped to feel ready and prepared—I actually became unwell. But again, that’s not unusual for me before something big. It seems to be my body’s “normal”—a shutdown after an intense buildup.

While I’m absolutely blessed with the teachers who’ve been taking care of you all in my absence (and have ZERO doubts in their ability and nurturing energy), the studio is my baby. And, if I’m honest, I was dreading being away from it. The studio to me is a wholesome, safe place—something I truly cherish given my life experiences.

You guys are more than my students; some of you have become close friends. The community itself is simply soul food. Basically, I knew I’d miss the space, miss you guys, and miss my routine.

On top of that, as many of you know, I made a difficult staffing decision at the studio before taking time off, which took a serious toll on my energy. It followed a stressful 10-day period where I tried desperately to do right by everyone, yet somehow my efforts only seemed to escalate the situation. Eventually, it became clear what I needed to do—which meant saying goodbye. It weighed heavily on me, but it was a necessary step to stay aligned with the studio’s core philosophy: humility, authenticity, and compassion.

If life has taught me anything repeatedly, it’s that wellbeing thrives when energy is reciprocated. I talk about this a lot in class—the importance of noticing how your energy is impacted. So this was me doing just that—protecting my own energy and the studio’s. BUT… it wasn’t easy lol.

To sum up the build-up: it was intense.

Because my Virgo brain kept me mentally preoccupied, I hadn’t actually found time to mentally prepare for the surgery itself. So the day before, when I travelled to Manchester, it hit me like a tonne of bricks. I was kacking it (is that even a proper term? You get my drift). It took me all morning to pack my bag and prepare the animals—a task that normally takes 30 minutes.

Luckily, I had someone close with me who didn’t rush me, just held space, offering calm and grounding energy. Occasionally asking, “Are you okay?”—to which I replied “Yeah,” lol. Actually quite amusing in hindsight.

We got to the hotel, I finished my Kundalini classes, and started to wind down. I actually slept well considering, but the next morning I woke up like “sh*t, it’s happening.” Throw in a few intrusive thoughts about dying under anaesthetic, and you can imagine—I was radiating anxious energy. I even considered writing my daughter a goodbye letter, just in case.

Here’s the thing: even though I KNEW it was a routine procedure and I was in very capable hands, I realised I’ve probably watched too many episodes of ER and needed to just chill the eff out.

I got there for 9am, naively thinking I’d be straight in. I didn’t go in until about 11:30, so spent the next 2.5 hours not only growing hungrier (nil by mouth!) but also just sat waiting. Those 2.5 hours dragged.

I watched a few women go in and out of surgery, and the ward team were all wonderful. Eventually it was go time—the surgeon came for me to sign the consent form, the anaesthesiologist introduced himself, the nurses got all the info they needed. Then the curtain opened and the surgeon said, “Right Jade, are you ready?”

Gulp.

Being the people pleaser I am, my response was, “I sure am!” lol. Not a lie—but even then I didn’t want the surgeon to feel pressured by my nerves. EMPATH LIFE.

So off we went to theatre. On the table, stirrups and all. Within minutes, a cannula was in, oxygen mask on. A nurse said, “Think of something nice so you dream well.” I cracked a few nervous jokes and felt the cold liquid entering my hand… my last words were, “Oooh, it’s happening.”

I couldn’t tell you how long I was out, but waking up was very calm. In reflection, I think that says a lot about my healing journey.

The last time I was put under (for breast implants nearly 10 years ago), I woke up hysterically crying. That was before yoga, before healing work. I can categorically say I was a bloody mess back then—lost, and didn’t even realise it.

Maybe I’m overthinking (Virgo brain lol), or maybe this really does reflect how much calmer my life is now.

When I woke up, I was dosy and parched. I chugged water but it tasted awful—like ass. My throat was coarse, like Barry White. A nurse let me know I’d had a tube down during surgery—ah, that explains it.

Nurse Beth offered me Ribena. Yes please. Down went another jug. Still husky, they brought me two large coffees—soothing and, let’s be honest, I was craving caffeine. It was already 2:30pm and I’d had no fix.

“Would you like some toast?” Beth asked. I sure bloody would!

Eating it was a challenge. My throat was on strike. Every bite had to be chewed slowly and washed down with yet another jug of Ribena. Toast never took so long.

Here’s where it got tricky.

I couldn’t leave the ward until I’d had a wee. Considering I’d basically consumed the Pacific Ocean, I thought it’d be easy. Nope.

My bladder joined my throat in protest. Despite walking 100 laps of the ward (it was small!), I couldn’t wee. Eventually, a doctor gave me a catheter to release the pressure. Slowly but surely, the bladder woke up. Success—I weed. I was outta there.

I left with antibiotics (just in case), which I liked. Some surgeons have you take them straight away, but I've learned how vital our gut bacteria is—80% of serotonin is produced there. I didn’t want to throw my body off more than necessary.

I was also given codeine and paracetamol, and I’d brought enough ibuprofen to stock a pharmacy. So the pill-popping began.

The codeine helped initially, but later I needed ibuprofen too. This combo actually let me sit down. The thing with codeine, though? Constipation. REAL fear. So I took Laxido, as recommended.

I didn’t hold back.

Big mistake…

Fast-forward to 4:30am—I caved and took more codeine. Needed it. Slept a few hours.

The next morning, I was groggy and achey. I wanted to get home to my heated bag (should’ve brought it to Manchester!) and, of course, my own bed and doggy.

The journey back was uncomfortable. Legs up on the dash, trying to find some kind of comfort. We stopped outside Lincoln—pressure was building from needing a wee. Shuffled into the service station, sexy post-surgery leggings on, walking like a penguin. “Shimmy shimmy shimmy,” I said in my head as strangers stared.

Made it. Sweet relief. Grabbed a coffee, had some small talk about the weather (classic).

Once home, I slept like a baby. Woke up less achey. Had a friend swap places for support. Managed a number two—pain free. And let me tell you, the repositioning of my rectum was immediately apparent.

I was like, Jesus, is this how easy it is for other people to poop? Talk about alignment goals! 😂

It made me feel instantly at ease, because let’s be real—you always worry if surgery is actually going to make a difference. Happy days. My fear was over, everything was gravy, and I was nicely dosed up on my meds. I thought, “Ooo, a nice chill evening with my mate on the sofa.” Lush.

Ahem. This next bit—maybe others wouldn’t tell you, but what’s the point in blogging if I’m not going to be brutally honest? No shame here—just a learning curve for me, and hopefully a helpful heads-up if you’re considering this surgery.

So. I trumped in front of my friend and immediately apologised, saying I couldn’t control it… but that wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t control.

Looking back now, it’s like a full-blown comedy sketch. Rachel’s face went from shock, to kindness, to giggles, then confusion, followed by hysterical laughter—all in the space of a few seconds.

Just as I apologised for trumping, I began to poo myself—while maintaining eye contact. I screamed, “Oh no… help me… I’m pooing and I can’t stop! HELP ME!”

I couldn’t jump up, and there I was—a fully grown adult crapping herself while looking desperately into her friend’s eyes for support.

Through a fit of laughter, Rachel did manage to get me up, and I hastily exited the room to go sort myself out.

TUUUUURNS out, I had MASSIVELY overdone it with the Laxido. I still stand by the fact that I’d rather it go that way than the other (codeine constipation is no joke), but my God—what an experience.

Just when I thought I was getting back to normal… I shat myself.

Life. 🙃

Let this be a lesson to all: Laxido is not a joke. It is not to be taken lightly. I highly recommend you err on the side of caution. Unlike me, who was double-dropping sachets in every drink for three days straight.

Well—I paid the price. And now Rachel and I have a memory that has bonded us even closer… whether she likes it or not, lol.

Naturally, I wasn’t feeling too great at that point, so I took myself off to bed early and had another decent night’s sleep. I woke up sore, but less achey. The first few days were more “achey” than “sore”—like my insides were adjusting to the new and correct position of my pelvic organs. Now, it’s just soreness or the actual stitches.

I’m taking it very steady, but overall, I’m feeling good.

Advice given is: