Soo… I have not posted in almost 11 months. Perhaps you wonder what happened to my leaky foob? Reconstructive surgery and beyond? Here’s an essay I wrote, parts of which were just published on BabyCenter… cuz, yup… I’m gonna have a baby…
A funny thing happened after my reconstructive surgery in November 2012. I didn’t want to write, talk, or think about anything related to breast cancer. As much as I wanted to hold onto “Cancer Trish”, and my renewed appreciation for life, I wanted to put cancer behind me – and I did it with gusto. While recuperating from surgery, friends visited, I planned a family Christmas party, made cookies with my 2.5 year old daughter Grace, and decorated for the holidays. I celebrated New Years Eve at home with my husband, Lee, Grace, and several neighbors – two of whom were pregnant.
That evening, I felt a twinge of regret. We’d been told that after chemo, I would likely be infertile, and because my cancer was so aggressive, did not have time to harvest eggs before treatment. It was the hardest part of the cancer experience for me, but I focused on getting healthy and forged ahead with treatment, firmly closing the door on the idea that Grace would have a sibling.
Even when my period returned, six months after chemo ended, I let the idea of having another child go. My body had been through so much, and like cancer, pregnancy would have been another hostile takeover. To add pressure to an already tenuous prospect, I had been diagnosed as BRCA1 positive, and would have my ovaries removed in another two years. The window of opportunity was so very small, and instead of letting the green monster of jealousy take over as I watched my pregnant friends ring in the New Year with sparkling cider, I poured myself a tall glass of champagne.
At the end of January, I returned to work from medical leave. That same week, Lee and I lay in bed one night talking. Out of the blue, he turned to me and said, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About having another baby. I think I want to have another baby.”
I looked at him blankly. “Seriously?! I … I need to think about this. I just started work this week. In the past three years, if I wasn’t pregnant or nursing, I was going through cancer treatment. My body has been through so much.”
“I know” he said. “We can talk about it later. But I thought I’d bring it up”
I fell asleep – nervous, and confused… but also, a little excited.
Two days later, I got a tremendous case of heartburn. I don’t get heartburn. Ever. Except, of course, when I’m pregnant. But that couldn’t be possible. We hadn’t tried to get pregnant, although we weren’t especially careful.
I thought back to my Christmas Eve gift from Lee… a set of sexy lingerie that – in my previous form, I had been unable to wear. Before breast cancer, my breasts were ginormous, and if I was able to fit into lingerie, my breasts spilled out everywhere, ruining any chance of the desired ‘sexy’ effect. They were so big, in fact, that when I had Grace and my milk came in, I was challenged finding a nursing bra, and topped the charts at an ‘H’. For the support that bra gave me, I would have been better off saving my money, and using a sheet and some rubber bands to contain my bosom.
Thanks to reconstructive surgery, I was a perky ‘C’, and excited that – at 38 years old – I was finally able to rock that body. THAT was a fun night. And that was… oh… six weeks ago. As I began to do the math, I realized that I hadn’t had my period, and was almost a week late.
After digging through my medicine cabinet, I found an old pregnancy test. It had a digital read-out, but I put the damn thing together incorrectly, and peed on a stick – seeing only two clear lines rather than an idiot-proof digital “Pregnant” reading. Without the digital reading, I couldn’t be sure – did two lines mean pregnant, or not pregnant? I called Lee, and sent him to Walgreen’s to get another kit. After taking both tests, and getting positive readings again, I sent him back for more.
“I can’t go buy another one of these things from a pimply sixteen year old,” he said. “Besides – those tests generally don’t give false positives.”
“Go buy another.”
Later that night, after taking no fewer than six positive pregnancy tests – we began to accept, and rejoice, a very unexpected and miraculous pregnancy. I first called the nurse in my plastic surgeon’s office, concerned my body was not yet healed from surgery. DIEP flap reconstruction is an amazing and intensive surgery, where my breasts were recreated using skin and fat from my belly. Seventeen hours of surgery ended with a pair of breasts, made of my own body tissue rather than implants, with the pliant and soft feel of “natural” breasts, and a bonus tummy tuck. Naked, my body looked like a Frankenstein project, but with clothes on – it looked better than it ever had. I had gotten pregnant just six weeks into recovery from the procedure.
The nurse called Dr. Bernie, who was on vacation. We both wanted to know if this was OK, though she assured me that my worst fears – that this baby would tear out of my weakened stomach muscles like a recreation of Alien – were unfounded. His reaction was one of shock, and his first question was to ask incredulously if we were having sex before my surgical drains had been removed?! Because that’s sexy, right? I assured them both that no, I did not have my drains in, and that this was in fact our first celebratory ‘act’ post-surgery. With every check-up, I’ve had to reiterate that I was NOT having sex with my drains in… though I’m still not sure they believe it.
Come to find out, this was new territory for us all. After doing a little research, we discovered that I was the first person post-DIEP flap to get pregnant within years, much less two months of surgery. Bernie could write a paper to document the event and monitor my pregnancy, but assured me that yes; it would be OK… and congratulated me. My reconstruction was still incomplete; along with some finishing nips and tucks, I was still nipple-less. Those would have been tattooed on after I healed from surgery, and would now need to wait until after the pregnancy. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to nurse, but he assured me that I should have no problems carrying a child, and would have the support of my extensive team of Doctors.
Despite some sleepless nights, and needing a fork-lift to roll over in bed, I’ve had an incredibly easy pregnancy. Two years after being diagnosed with breast cancer and beating a deadly disease, I’m amazed that my body is healthy enough to carry a child to term. I wanted to document my pregnancy – honestly – and had the opportunity to take some photos with a friend of mine recently. The naked truth – nipple-less, scars, full belly and all.
After the shoot, we sat looking at the photos together, and it brought us both to tears. I saw something I hadn’t been able to see since before breast cancer. My naked, reconstructed, Frankenstein-esque body… was beautiful