Growing up, I worried whether I would recognize silent signs if something were wrong. If cancer were growing inside me, how would I know? There are so many tragic stories of people catching cancer at a late stage and not having many options. I can’t believe these were the worries that occupied my young teenage brain! And now, at 35, I was diagnosed with triple-positive invasive ductal carcinoma. I was grateful to know, to have noticed the signs, to not be in the dark, to have the chance to act. 

I was 5 years away from my first mammogram, typically done at age 40. I had no family history. Would a doctor have taken me seriously and sent an order for imaging had I not been pregnant? Did the cancer show up because I was pregnant? Did pregnancy cause my hormones to misfire? I don’t know. But I do know that early periods and later pregnancies are linked to breast cancer, and both applied to me (my first period was at 10). I believe without a doubt that my baby saved my life; he alerted me to the signs. He’s my little angel, and because of him, I am here today. Would I have been as observant and recognized the signs had I not been pregnant? I hope so. Realizing that I was five years out from my first mammogram is a terrifying thought. My story could have been very different.   

Because of the type of cancer I had, the stage, the speed of growth, and the timing of treatment, I did just about everything there was to do: lumpectomy, chemo, more chemo, immunotherapy, double mastectomy, radiation, hormone therapy, and just when it felt like I was done, oral chemo. Between each part of the treatment, there was usually a healing period before the next one began. This meant that my treatment would be much longer than typical. From the start, the top question on my mind was, Will this all affect our baby? Luckily, the answer was no. Certain chemo drugs were safe during pregnancy and wouldn’t cross the placenta. Absolutely mind-blowing! The plan was for me to have a lumpectomy, heal, and then start chemo. There was a long pause to recover and give birth (birth story to come!), and then that was when I could start the targeted chemo I needed, Taxol. Taxol was not safe during pregnancy, but it is known to work for the type of cancer I had. The wait felt long and excruciating. We worried about how much the cancer would grow and if it would spread while we waited. There was so much uncertainty. But even with aggressive cancer, I had a good prognosis. This was thanks to the research and all the people who fought before me. There was a well-known effective treatment. I was lucky; this was not an option a decade ago. I don’t take this for granted.   

Before we could make any treatment moves, I had to be in the 2nd trimester; that would be the safest time for both surgery and chemotherapy. While we waited the three weeks, we met with all the doctors, planned a treatment course, slowly shared the news with our friends and family, and made it a point to do normal things like pick berries and go on nature walks.  

For the most part, we shared the cancer news first. I had lists in my journal of friends and family that I wanted to share the news with. Some in person, some over a phone call, some in a group text, all were thoughtful. 

I am part of a Women of Color Book Club, more commonly known as the Snack Club (we put together the most impressive spreads!). I decided I would share the news at our next meet-up. We were all gathered outside enjoying conversation, food, and each other’s company. There was a lull in the chatter, and I looked up and said softly, I have something to share. Vivi’s eyes from across the yard opened wide in excitement. We’re expecting! I yelled. An outburst of joyous congratulations followed. I bathed in that feeling and decided that was enough; we do not need to share any more news today. I’m going to fully enjoy this moment. It wasn’t until I was in the middle of infusions that I shared the cancer news via email. 

“I haven’t shared it here because I wasn’t ready to talk about it or bring that energy to our circle, aaaaand I wanted to fully enjoy our pregnancy news by itself. But, as some of you might already know, I’m fighting breast cancer. Had a lumpectomy in August and am going through chemo now. All is going well, and I’m in good spirits and supported! Baby boy is doing well, too, and the treatment will not affect the pregnancy. Next year will be wild with continued treatments, surgeries, and not to mention, a newborn!! I’m ready. We’re ready. That’s my quick update.”

That was such a big load to dump in an email thread! I’m glad I did, though, because among that large group of women was another survivor, and she kindly responded:  

“Your body is miraculous and resilient, and we’re here for you! I’m a breast cancer survivor. Happy to listen, talk, share what worked for me if you’re interested.”

Another young survivor. Another one affected. I get emotional every time I learn of another person being dealt this card. But I find solace in knowing I am not alone, that there is hope, and that we are stronger than we can imagine.