I’m glad they zapped abnormal cells on my cervix, but wish I’d been told of the risks

I REMEMBER very little about my first smear test – other than being incredibly alarmed when, afterwards, I was called by the doctor and told they’d found abnormal cells on my cervix.

A further test – a colposcopy – was required, and then there was worse news. The cell changes were graded CIN3, one of the worst kinds. It wasn’t cancer, but there is a high chance these cells can become cancerous if left untreated.

My doctor recommended I have surgery to ‘scrape them away’, and I agreed without a second thought.

There was a bit of bleeding afterwards, and I took a couple of days off work. At a followup appointment they told me they’d got everything. Smear tests after that were clear. And that, I thought, was that.

I got pregnant just under a decade later, in 2012, aged

34. Everything was going fine until, at four months during a routine scan, the obstetrician asked: ‘Have you had surgery on your cervix?’

I explained I had, and she told me she believed the operation had caused my cervix ‘to shorten quite significantly’, and this would affect its ability to stay closed. This meant, basically, there was a quite significant risk that my cervix wouldn’t hold out for the remainder of my pregnancy, and I could miscarry or give birth very prematurely.

It was terrifying. We had spent years struggling to conceive before opting for IVF, which had been successful first time. Now I was facing the very real prospect of losing my baby.

If a shortened cervix is picked up early during pregnancy, there’s a procedure to insert a stitch that holds it closed. But this wasn’t an option at my stage, as that operation could also trigger a miscarriage.

I was told sex was out of the question, as was exercise that involved any kind of impact, such as running. I was advised not to get stressed, or run myself ragged at work. But that was it.

I was constantly worried. I remember feeling like an emperor penguin holding this precious egg inside me, not wanting to uncross my legs.

In the end, my cervix did hold out. Matilda was born a week early, healthy and weighing

5lb 8oz. It was lucky, I was told, that she wasn’t too heavy and didn’t put too much pressure on my cervix. Also, my labour was quick and easy. I didn’t need pain relief. I’m told this is one silver lining to having a weak cervix: you don’t have to push so much.

My second pregnancy, with George, now four, wasn’t affected in the same way, although no one has been able to tell me why.

I don’t regret for a second having the CIN3 cells removed. But I do wish someone had told me about the potential complications. As it was, nothing was mentioned, and you’re nervous enough during a first pregnancy. If I’d known, perhaps I’d have been more prepared for the possibility that I was at higher risk.

I’m 44 now, and because of my history I choose to have a smear test every year. It gives me peace of mind.

Five years feels a long time to wait, especially if something fast-growing appears. But the idea that women might have the treatment I had unnecessarily does bother me – you don’t want to go through that unless you absolutely have to.