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NOVEMBER 3, 2001 In two weeks, I will celebrate an anniversary of sorts. A long year, but yet a short one. A year of sadness, but a year of great hope and promise. A year in which a miracle occurred in my life. In November 2000, three things happened within a two week period---two of which changed my life forever: I turned 37 years old. I found out I was six weeks pregnant. I was told I had breast cancer. Let me go back to that time-- As I lay in bed one night, I happened to notice a tenderness in one of my breasts. I reached up, wondering why I would be sore. My fingers immediately felt the lump. "There's something there...I need to get this checked", I thought to myself. No fear, no concern, and I drifted into sleep. Two days later, I discovered I was pregnant. Quite a surprise, both to me and my husband. We had our beautiful daughter who was 2½ at the time. We thought our family was complete. The pregnancy explained the tenderness I had felt, I realized in hindsight. A prenatal checkup was to follow in two weeks...I decided I would have the lump checked then. During those two weeks, the lump tripled in size. I felt no fear. Whether out of denial or ignorance, I cannot say. I didn't understand what it was, but I never feared cancer. My prenatal appt. arrived, and on that Friday I asked the obstetrician to take a look at the lump I'd found. He felt it. "Yes, there's definitely something there". He told me it didn't "feel cancerous", but he wanted a surgeon to take a look anyway. I had an ultrasound the same day. (A mammogram was not allowed because of the pregnancy) I saw the mass on the screen, but I felt calm. I still did not believe it was cancer. In my heart, I told myself that God had given me a baby I didn't ask for...He would not let me have cancer. Four days later, I met with the surgeon for the results. He told me he wanted to do a biopsy, and it was scheduled for two days later. I asked him if he thought it was a cyst. He said if he thought it was, he wouldn't do the biopsy. For some reason, I did not ask any further questions. Instead, I went to register at the hospital. So, now it was Thursday, Nov. 16th, and I was laying in a hospital bed preparing for surgery. So many things had happened in two weeks. I took no sedation and when in for the biopsy with a local anesthetic. The procedure was brief, and soon I was taken back to my room. I noticed that my husband and father had not come to the room. I waited. I felt calm. After several minutes, they finally walked in. I laughed "I thought you had forgotten about me". My dad said "No, we're here." He gave nothing away. The surgeon was right behind them, and my eyes met his. I saw the seriousness, and he spoke immediately. I will NEVER forget those words--"The news is not so good, (a brief pause) it's cancer." I looked to my Dad...I saw it in his eyes. I looked to my husband, and he was crying. I took a deep breath.. The only word I could utter--"Wow". Before I could digest the news, the surgeon proceeded. "...we recommend abortion." "It's too much..I can't make that decision....I need to let this sink in..." My mind was spinning. Tears began to fall. Slow tears, no sobbing. I felt the tremble in my legs, an uncontrollable tremor. Nerves...that was a lot to take in...I waited to talk to an oncologist. After a couple of hours, Dr. Stefanini walked in. As soon as I saw him, I felt calm. I could trust this man. I knew that instinctively. When he walked in, hope walked in. The abortion? He said we needed to wait to have the facts before any decision needed to be made. Perhaps they got all of the cancer. I felt optimistic. I left the hospital in somewhat of a fog, but calm. I was walking out the door, and I had cancer. That night, I prayed that I would hear the entire tumor as removed. The next day, I met with both the surgeon and oncologist. I didn't hear what I wanted to hear. Instead, he said that the cancer was very aggressive, the tumor invasive. The nerves were not even recognizable. The good news was that the cancer was caught early. A deep breath. "What's the next step?" A radical mastectomy was recommended. I agreed, without hesitation. I had no issues with losing a breast. I wanted to save my life, and save my babies life. The surgery was scheduled in three days, on Monday. In addition to removing the breast, they would remove the first level of lymph nodes. There was still a chance for the baby.The mastectomy went well, and I had little pain. After a night in the hospital, I came home to wait. If the lymph nodes were clear, I could continue the pregnancy, and hope to carry and deliver a healthy baby, but one step at a time. If there was lymph node invasion, my chances for the babies survival were zero. There would be no other options. The day before Thanksgiving, the news came. I took the call, and heard Dr. Stefanini's voice. "So far, so good. Your lymph nodes are clear." I felt the flood of relief, and thanked him for the call. I let it out...the fear of burying an unborn child, the loss too great to bear, and I rejoiced in the news that my baby had a chance. In my heart, I knew it would be okay. We were going to make it.Thanksgiving held special meaning for me and my family. I suddenly realized a few things: 1. God doesn't always give you what you want. I wanted to hear it was a cyst. It wasn't. I wanted to hear that the biopsy removed the cancer. It didn't. 2. God does give what you need. I needed to hear that the lymph nodes were clear. That meant I could carry my child. They were. I looked back to the time I found the lump. I had said God wouldn't give me cancer. Why would he give me a baby and then give me cancer? I missed it. There was a bigger plan. I was going to have cancer. It was part of what would be dealt to me. My blessing is in the realization I was given something special. Not only has my life been spared, but I was given a gift...a pregnancy that helped me find the lump before it was too late, and a beautiful baby as a reward for my journey. Now THAT'S a gift... Research was done, and it was decided I must wait until my second trimester to begin chemo. It would be a seven week wait, but there was too much risk to the baby otherwise. My treatments began, and I was monitored closely. I was supposed to have six rounds of chemo. That plan would have pushed me too close to my delivery date, and there were too many risks. Instead I would take higher doses, and cut back to four treatments. Exactly three weeks after my first treatment my hair started to fall out. As an act of support, my family committed to shaving their heads with me. We gathered at my parent's house, and one by one, shaved our heads. I went first. I looked in the mirror, and I was relieved. It wasn't so bad, not at all. It felt okay to be bald. Two brothers shaved their heads ( click here to view image), and then my husband. Even my dad joined in. He had grown a beard after I was diagnosed, and shaved it off that night. It was a true act of solidarity, support and ultimate family love. I will always look back on that night with fondness. There were no tears, only laughter and smiles. It was my family's way of saying that they'd walk the road with me. I needed that support. I had eleven ultrasounds throughout my pregnancy. There was fear of low birth weight and the need for additional support after birth. Every time I had a test, the results were normal, perfectly normal. After four rounds of chemo, I took three months off to get my strength back enough to deliver the baby. My labor was induced at thirty-eight weeks, and Hannah was born weighing six pounds 15 ounces. She was beautiful, and perfect in every way. She was a miracle, and we knew it. Two weeks after delivery, I had a bone scan and CT abdominal scan. The results came back clear. My oncologist wanted me to have more chemo, however. I was at a high risk for recurrence and he wanted to take no chances. Although my lymph nodes were clear, further tests had indicated that there was some invasion of the lymphatic system. The cancer could have gone anywhere. I dreaded going back to the chemo, but knew it was the right thing to do. I took another four rounds, treatments number five through eight, then had scans and blood tests. Everything was clear, but the breast cancer marker was higher than my doctor was comfortable with. The number was below the threshold that would indicate cancer, but he wanted one more round, just to push it even lower... an insurance policy. I took treatment number nine on October 1, 2001. That day, I walked out of the hospital after hearing the words I'd waited on for so many months. "You are in full remission" Remission, and a new life begins... I MADE IT...I AM A SURVIVOR. 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