“Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul.”

I was extremely lucky in my early 20’s. My youthful skin was mercifully spared from teenage scars and blemishes. The only indentations were remnants from a childhood bout of the chickenpox. Make-up was only used for special occasions. Little did I know that an imbalance was lying dormant. The second half of my 20’s has been hijacked by acne and braces. Somebody send me back to high school.

At 24 I visited a random GP wanting advice on my ‘hot-flush’ reaction to the pill. I was prescribed the alternative ‘mini-pill’ which put my system in complete chaos. Breakouts as far as the eye can see. This has never happened to me before. I started blaming the synthetic nature of the pill. Surely I can fix this on my own. Our bodies are apparently self-healing. Within a few weeks of visiting a naturopath for help, I had found myself pregnant the first time. Oops… We already know how that tale played out.

Within a few months again I was intentionally pregnant with Little One, and luckily, my skin returned to its ‘pre-pill-tampering’ state. I had heard pregnancy can do this. What a relief that no damage had been done and I could now enjoy my blemish and makeup-free face covering again. I was hopeful that my little season of skin hell was well and truly over.

Little One turned 6 months. My milk skin started to change again. The breakouts started subtly, but progressed with each passing cycle. What is happening to me? I continue to lay blame that the pill was merely masking an underlying issue that I could fix. I start exploring different skin products and solutions. Nothing seems to help. The skin specialist prescribes antibiotic gels. She’s conscious of my ‘child-bearing years’. Still, nothing seems to help. Vitamins, minerals and herbs. Nothing seems to help.  I alter my diet and adhere to a strict grain and dairy free regime. I drink my weight in water. I am a walking probiotic. I lose the last of the baby weight, but my skin… nothing seems to help. It’s explained that further medicinal interventions are not advised as I’m in my ‘child-bearing years’ and we want to have more kids in the reasonably near future.

My face aches and hurts from the ongoing flare-up of cystic acne eating away at me. I don’t want to leave the house. I’m closer to 30 than 20. This is a joke, right? I hold Little One afar, too afraid to press his cheek against mine when he snuggles in for a hug. How can hubby stand to look at me, let alone be near me? I’m gripped with tummy tightening anxiety when people greet me with the curtesy cheek kiss. Why would you even want to do that. I feel like a leper. Lots of people seem to have a solution or opinion. You don’t think I haven’t tried? So many times I’d cry in the car not wanting to be seen, pulling myself together in time for that gathering or meeting. My face is caked with makeup that I had never learnt to apply properly. I never knew I was so vain. I’m frustrated, and to top it off, my very expensive straightened teeth have moved during pregnancy (yes, another lovely pregnancy symptom) so now I harbour a toothy gap. Orthodontist booked. Someone just buy me a potato sack. Summer comes and goes with strappy dresses and singlets untouched. Swimming is out of the question for fear that my makeup will wash off. I’m not this person. I’m so disappointed in myself. It’s not like I’m dying! I never thought so much of my confidence was wrapped up in an organ. 

During this time, to relieve my inner angst, I treat myself to one of those cheap Chinese massage parlours that I had previously frequented. Within a few days my shoulders were blistering with spots, accompanied with spine tingling nervy pain. Seriously… wtf? I had contracted a Staph infection caused by exposure from the massage along with an apparent weakened immunity. My doc prescribed a general antibiotic hoping that it will do the trick. He’s conscious of the ‘child-bearing years’. It doesn’t work. It’s only going away if I endure an extended course of antibiotics, plus an extra 3 months to allow my system to ‘clear it out’. He shortens the dose to only 3 months as he’s conscious of the ‘child-bearing years’. The catch with these types of tablets is that they come with a firm disclaimer: NO PREGNANCY! This specific antibiotic causes severe foetal defects, so baby number 2 is off the cards for at least the next 6 months. I can live with it, as I don’t think I’m ready yet anyway.

Within a few weeks it’s all cleared up, but I still have to complete the entire course. I continue to flinch when people greet me with a hug. It’s not just the face I’m weary of now. The 6 months pass but within a few weeks, it’s back again. The lovely nature of ‘the Staph’ *insert vomit emoji here* I can hear the angry masses from here; “Unclean!, Unclean!” Ok the face was one thing, but this is just taking things to a whole other level. I’m then put on the extended course. Another 12 months: NO PREGNANCY!  Well, what can you do? The decisions made for us. It’s a sign. The truth is, I’ve found one to be an immense test of my capacity, so how would I possibly cope with two?

I need a shirt made up:  “So… when’s baby number 2 coming?” I don’t know. Ask my skin.

I obviously have a lot more soul searching ahead of me.

“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.” –Victor Hugo