Sometimes it's the little things in the NHS.
I know I've mentioned it before, but my SPD was not picked up by the GP or my MW with the end result that I couldn't leave the house independently for weeks at the end of pregnancy after months of battling on to try to keep mobile and active. I actually did myself more harm by doing things like breastroke because I didn't have access to advice to self-help and minimise damage.
When I finally did have baby, I just beached up on my back because I could barely stand and bare my own weight. No help in getting into a more beneficial position. Labour ward was heaving (it took over an hour in the waiting room to get a bed) no real support with things like pain relief and talking through what was happening. After the long labour, the EMCS, and the 24+ hours in HDU, I got dumped onto main ward in the middle of the night to free up the MWs and was left to get on with it. Ar one point, I dropped him on his head into the crib when my strength gave out. I hadn't stood up and walked for over 48 hours and was barely capable of that in the week before. I nearly missed breakfast the next morning after having no food since 5pm because I hadn't been told that breakfast was in the day room. They did grudingly bring it to me after I insisted that I hadn't been capable of walking that far in a month. The next few days, I had to shuffle off to get it.
On discharge, a few days later, we asked if I could use a wheelchair to get to the car because it had been months since I had been capable of walking that far. I was told that if I couldn't walk that far, I wasn't fit to go home. I couldn't bare being in that place a moment longer so shuffled out a few steps at a time taking half an hour to make it to the exit of the building.
It pales against the impact of some of your experiences of poor diagnosis, but there were some little things there that would take very little time and no money to resolve. The birth probably always would have been difficult, but it didn't need to be that hard mentally. I sobbed on DS's first 2 birthdays because it was a more traumatic anniversary than happy. It was when he got to 3 and it was his day, plus I'd had a better birth with DS2, still difficult, but better supported, before DS1's birthday became a happier day about him. That day is tomorrow and it's worth having his best mate from his class over because there's already been too many of his birthdays where I've struggled. He deserves happy birthdays.
My timehop today has lots of pictures of softplay and climbing from previous parties.
And the bar meal because I felt like I needed to post something in order not to be suspiciously quiet as the build-up to labour was taking a long time since the panto the previous evening 