After a couple of days of grieving and crying, I have finally resurfaced from a brief period of mourning.  But before I go there, I’ll start at the beginning and explain how my diagnosis of breast cancer was upgraded from beginning treatment after the baby is born to starting treatment this week!

 

Last week, on Wednesday, May 24^th, I woke up at 5 am to leave my house at 6 am for an 8 am meeting with the doctors at NYU Medical.  What I thought would be a breast exam and a consultation turned out to be so much more—an entire day in a wheelchair, blood tests, genetic counseling, ultrasounds, and no eating till 4:30 pm!

 

When I met with the renowned directors of breast surgery and oncology at NYU, I was surprised to learn that my type of breast cancer was actually a much more aggressive form of a faster-growing cancer called HER2-positive,  which is very responsive to chemotherapy, even while pregnant.  What shocked me most, was that the tumor had grown from 2.8 centimeters to approximately 4.4 centimeters in two weeks!

 

The oncologist, Dr. S., advised me to begin chemotherapy medications immediately.  His chemo plan had two phases.  The first phase consisted of 12 weeks of Herceptin and Taxol to be given every three weeks.  The second phase consisted of 8 weeks of Adriamycin Cytoxan to be given every two weeks.  I did the math quickly and was shocked that we were talking about almost 7 months of treatment!  In addition, a port under my skin and a lumpectomy would be done after the baby was born.  (A port is a small disc about the size of a quarter that sits just under the skin that connects to a large vein.  The chemotherapy medicines are given through a special needle that fits right into the port.  Blood can also be drawn through the port.)

 

Honestly, my head swirled with too much information.

 

All I heard was chemotherapy next week, at 33 weeks pregnant, and three weeks later at 36 weeks pregnant!

 

Mom, Dad, and I were shocked by all this new news but we were holding back tears—for each other’s benefit!  I wished my husband was there but I had assured him that today would only be a “meet and greet” type of consultation and that he should go to work.  Now, I was thinking of how to break the news to him over the phone.  I knew he would be unconformable having toxic poisons pumped through my veins while our son Noah is still nesting in my womb.

 

I let my dad take over most of the appointment after that since he had gone through this with my mom only three years ago—also at NYU.  Dad asked questions and took notes while I took deep, slow breaths so I wouldn’t have an emotional breakdown.

 

Finally, I asked the question: “Will I lose my hair?”  I did not expect to hear that I wouldn’t, but still, I wasn’t prepared to hear that it would start so soon—only 10-14 short days after my first treatment.  I took another deep breath to swallow my emotions.  Then I asked, “Can I breastfeed?”  Of course, I knew the answer to that question, too.  Before, I held on to the small encouragement that I could breastfeed even if only for a week or two, but now even that tiny window of hope was closed.  The chemo meds would poison my milk.  I took another tough swallow and stared at my mom who looked away.

 

Dr. S. then sent us for our first set of bloodwork before heading around the block for our genetic counseling appointment which he had his secretary set up.

 

While I waited to go over a genetic map, I texted my friend S. to research the effects of the Herceptin and Taxol on pregnant women.  It wasn’t long before she called me to discuss her findings.  S. said the data was inconclusive and had been mostly done on pregnant animals!  Wonderful!  We spoke for while as I waited to be called by the genetic counselor and formed a list of questions and concerns that I would go over with Dr. S. when I went back up to meet him.

 

And then, I got my first sign from the Lord!

 

S. said that she and her sister-in-law, C., who are both currently breastfeeding, had already talked and were going to start pumping and freezing their own breast milk, asap, so that Noah would have breast milk when he was born.  What?!  Really?   My son will have breast milk?

 

You can’t even imagine the impact that had on me.  I was so overwhelmed with the gesture!  I started to cry tears of joy and thankfulness.  Thank you, Jesus, for taking care of this huge concern and for putting these two amazing women of God in my life who have already done so much for me!

 

And then I was called in for counseling, which was a bit depressing.  The young woman pulled up my mother’s genetic map from 3 years ago and went over my mother’s side of the family.  Through my maternal grandfather, there were 5 women, my mother’s cousins, who had been diagnosed with breast and/or ovarian cancer all under the age of 50, including my mother’s sister, my aunt Jenny, who passed away in 2005 from HER2-positive breast cancer.  My mom was the only one diagnosed much later at the age of 62.

 

I tried hard to concentrate but once she got into genetic markers and math, I kind of shut down and began to refocus on my asking God for a second sign.  He’d taken care of the breast milk but what about these harmful chemo meds?  Would the doctor listen to me?  Would he brush off my concerns?  Could I stall another 6 weeks before starting chemotherapy?  I needed the Lord to guide me in my decision and to assure me that it would be okay to start chemo while pregnant.

 

We finished up, took the second set of blood tests, and headed back to speak with Dr. S.

 

And then the Lord gave me the second sign!

 

The first thing Dr. S. said to me was,  “Elizabeth, I’m not comfortable with the chemo meds we discussed for phase 1 and I’m changing your chemo routine. The data on pregnant women is inconclusive so we are switching to the second set of drugs we discussed first.”  He went on to say that the Adriamycin Cytoxan meds had been used successfully since the 1980’s on pregnant cancer patients and that we would switch to Phase 1 once Noah was born.

 

Praise God! I didn’t even have to address my list of concerns.  The Lord had already handled my worries.  I knew then that I had received confirmation from the Lord.  This was a sign that he would protect Noah during chemo and that I should go ahead with these two treatments in peace.  It also impressed me that Dr. S. had done his own research and consulted obstetric studies.

 

We headed out in a much better mood toward 34^th and 1^st Avenue, two avenues away, for my next two sonograms, and abdominal and cardiac echogram, which ended at 4 pm and then we were finally able to eat.

 

On the way home, I texted my very good friend/reverend to meet my hubby and me at home at 6:30 pm so that we could talk and pray.  Rev. D. had ovarian cancer a year ago, and I knew I could talk her about what I was feeling.  Besides,  I had been holding my emotions in all day and knew I could release them in front of her, her husband, and mine.

 

So, I let it all out!  My fears of losing my hair and my concerns about being too weak to take care of my newborn on the third day after chemo treatments.  Rev. D. listened and validated my emotions.  She listened without trying to give me solutions.  She didn’t tell me what I’d be hearing from others shortly: “Don’t worry, it will grow back; hair is temporary; there are some cool wigs out there.”  Well, if you really feel that way, you are welcome to shave your head bald with me as a sign of solidarity.  No! Don’t do that!  I’m just kidding.  I would never want anyone to do that!

 

Yes, those statements about hair are true, but none validate how awful and scary it is when it is your own hair.  Have you seen my hair?  I reminded hubby that it was my hair that drew his attention toward me the first time he saw me.  He loves my hair!   Even the Bible acknowledges that a woman’s hair is her glory (1 Corinthians 11:15).

 

But hubby said he would love me with hair, without hair, with breasts or without, and that he, my mom, and his mom would help take care of Noah when I wasn’t feeling well, and that no one would be burdened.  All beautiful true words that caused me to cry even more.

 

But I want my own hair.  I want family portraits with my hair.   And I want to take care of my own baby not sleep for a day or two without holding him.  It’s not fair!  I cried all of Wednesday night and all of Thursday!

 

And then the cloud lifted.  I woke up early on Friday and felt in really great spirits.  I was reminded of:

 

 

I even made a joke. I told hubby that our family portrait would be really creative—a bald mom, a bald dad, and a bald baby.  Unless, of course, Noah comes out with more hair than the both of us!  Then we caption the photo with: Noah has more hair then Mommy and Daddy!

 

So, I’m okay.  Not perfect.  But okay.  I have my moments.  And they will come and go, but the truth is that the Lord has renewed my strength!  That He has shown me His hand twice in this new trial already.  He will not fail me because I am a daughter of the King.  And He will be faithful to me!

 

In love and Christ,

Liz