It’s been a while since I’ve written. One year and 8 months to be exact. I have been super busy with two little ones at home and teaching special education full time. Sometimes throughout sharing my BRCA journey the words come more naturally to me, in fact it feels like they are bursting at the seams. Other times, it requires a vulnerability that I simply feel too exhausted for. Today, I am in a very different place altogether. While I still long to connect with others, I have also realized the value in sharing my experiences. It has been therapeutic for me to support other women on their journeys. So here I am, 3 years post mastectomy and 1 year post hysterectomy/oophorectomy. I am missing my breasts and some other vital organs, yes, but I have also birthed another beautiful human being and transitioned into a new version of myself.
For a long period of time, I felt like my BRCA gene defined me. It felt as if it shaped my anxiety, predicted my future, and determined my fate. While the ladder may not be 100% accurate, my predisposition to cancer and family history helped write this narrative. I not only felt the looming fear of cancer hanging over me, but also the unease of what preventative measures I would take. What would these surgeries do to my body and furthermore, my mental health? While it began with questions my 24 year old self wasn’t ready to answer such as, when do you want to start a family? It evolved into much deeper contemplations that affected me at my core. Will I still feel like a woman without my natural breasts? Will surgical menopause spiral me into a deep depression? The questions were multifaceted and there were no answers. However, I knew the facts. Multiple people in my family with the BRCA1 gene died of ovarian cancer between their late 30’s and early 40’s. Multiple people in my family, including my 35 year old cousin, had gone through breast cancer. What was I going to do to change my fate?
March 2019 was the beginning of the hardest year of my life. My beautiful daughter was born and while this should have been the most joyous time…a traumatic birth followed by an emergency c-section, a brutal experience with breastfeeding, and severe postpartum depression threw a major wrench in my journey into motherhood. Not to mention, simultaneously watching my 35 year old cousin (also a young mother) go through chemotherapy. In January 2020 when my daughter was 10 months, I underwent a preventative mastectomy. 3 weeks before my planned surgery, a tumor was found and I had to get a biopsy. To everyone’s surprise (including my surgeons) the tumor was benign and it could be removed during surgery before it became dangerous. Nonetheless, the various cancer scares throughout the years and the finding of this tumor confirmed that I made the right decision for me. After a long and uncomfortable few months of chest expanders, in Spring of that year I underwent reconstruction surgery with breast implants. With no time to waste, we began trying again for our second baby within weeks after surgery. Once becoming pregnant I learned through genetic testing that I was a fragile x carrier and I could have passed it to my son. Are you fucking kidding me? Getting invasive procedures were not new to me, but an invasive procedure on my fetus was a whole different ball game. I had a CVS test where a needle was implanted through my stomach and into the fetus. Once again, we dodged a bullet and I didn’t pass the faulty gene to my baby! His uncomplicated birth and my “normal” postpartum experience (you know, extreme sleep deprivation during survival mode coupled with joy and love) was a relief to say the least. When he was 10 months and my daughter was almost 3, it was time to get a hysterectomy and oophorectomy. In simple terms; to remove my ovaries, uterus, cervix, and fallopian tubes. The way the hormone shift impacted me postpartum after my first pregnancy terrified me that this would happen after getting my ovaries removed. Luckily with the use of Hormone Replacement Therapy I am pleased to share that surgical menopause has been a breeze and I haven’t experienced the symptoms I once feared.
So here I am, 3 years post mastectomy and 1 year post hysterectomy/oophorectomy. I am a changed woman in many ways. I am still adjusting to my new body and I am not going to sugar coat it, it hasn’t been easy. Do I love my foobs? No, not at all. But are they ticking time bombs waiting to kill me? Not anymore! Do I mourn the loss of my fertility? Absolutely. It saddens me on a daily basis. But do I have two beautiful and healthy children who I will live past my 40’s to watch them grow? I sure do.
I will plan to write more soon and get into more of the details of surgery recovery and also my experience with postpartum depression. But for tonight, I will go give my babies an extra squeeze and feel grateful for taking control of my narrative.
Thanks for reading!
Erica