Tanya Jackson, 27, Bundaberg, Qld
My newborn daughter Chloe wriggled in her cot as I stroked her delicate head.After five days in hospital recovering from a caesarean, we were finally able to go home. 'Your big sister is so excited,' I cooed, knowing my eldest daughter, Emily, then three, couldn't wait to have us back.Everything about my girls was perfect - from the tips of their noses to the ends of their fingertips. I just wished I could say the same thing about me. Ever since I could remember, I'd hated my body. When I was nine months old, I'd managed to pull a pan of boiling water over me, leaving me with angry burns on my chest. While skin grafts had helped me heal, I'd been left with ugly scars.
As I grew up, I was never teased or bullied about them, but I couldn't help the way I felt. To me, I was hideous. And it wasn't just my scars that got me down. It was my weight too. Falling pregnant with Emily at 16, my curves had bloomed and when I'd been expecting Chloe, I'd eaten for two, piling on another 20 kilos to my size-14 frame. Now, just thinking about the state of my body made my stomach churn. I was a single mum to two girls. I had to do something to change. How could they have self-esteem if their mum didn't even like herself? Determined to start losing weight as soon as I could, my head filled with thoughts of exercise and salads. But as I prepared myself for my healthy new life at home, pain erupted in my tummy. My insides felt funny, like I'd been punched in the stomach. I assumed it was just my body settling down after the caesarean.
When Mum arrived to collect Chloe and me from the hospital, I felt so queasy I couldn't even muster a smile. Fear crept over me. How would I care for my bub if I was sick? I pushed the thought right to the back of my mind. I had to keep going for the girls.But back at home the pain surged and just hours later, I was doubled over on my sofa. 'Something's not right,' I gasped. Was the body I hated so much now giving up on me? A friend rushed me back to hospital while Mum looked after Chloe and Emily.As doctors examined me, everything became a blur. 'My tummy hurts,' I wept in agony. 'It feels blazing hot.' The next thing I knew, I was being taken to surgery.
The bright hospital lights blurred as I slipped in and out of consciousness. When I came round hours later I was in excruciating pain. My belly was sore and swollen. 'You've got a flesh-eating bug,' a nurse explained, telling me it was called necrotising fasciitis. I'd caught the infection when I'd given birth to Chloe and it had been ravaging away inside me ever since, eating its way through my body. 'Doctors had to remove three kilos of flesh,' the nurse said. 'You're lucky to be alive.' As I began to digest what had happened, I realised how lucky it was that I'd had three kilos of spare flesh to remove. That baby blub I'd hated... it had saved my life.
Doctors had only been able to remove my infection-riddled skin because I had it spare. I was so grateful to be alive, knowing I could have missed seeing my daughters grow up. As a result of the doctors cutting out the infection, I'd been left with a gaping wound. The nurses told me it would heal but I'd have another nasty scar. This time though, I didn't care. That would be my battle scar, the cut that saved me. For three months I recovered in hospital. The infection wasn't contagious, so Mum could bring the girls to see me. It broke my heart to see little Chloe growing and changing with every visit. 'All that matters is getting better,' Mum would tell me whenever I got upset. I knew she was right. I had years of happiness ahead of me with the girls. I could miss a few weeks to make sure I was well. Finally, I was allowed to go home. Hugging Chloe and Emily tight, I felt so lucky to be a mum.
Right then, I made a decision. My scars and my weight had got me down for too long. My brush with death gave me the courage to look beyond them, to start living my life.Not long after, I enrolled in a fashion course. I'd always loved clothes but I'd avoided shopping because I felt fat. Never again.Two years on, I decided to turn my passion for fashion into a business and opened a website selling clothes. At first I started with lingerie but now I stock vintage inspired dresses and burlesque outfits, like the ones Julie Rafter strutted her stuff in on Packed to the Rafters. These days I wear a size 18. I eat healthily and exercise when I can, but I don't punish myself if I indulge in the odd treat. Having my body savaged by a flesh-eating bug has made me realise that size isn't everything. It's being healthy and feeling happy that really counts.
For more information about Tanya's store, visit www.burlesquecouture.com.au
or visit her Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/BurlesqueCouture
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