This poem isn’t supposed to be about me. I’m not supposed to be announcing a pregnancy and cancer at the same time. Gary and I are supposed to be lying in bed at night talking about baby names, not analyzing research on chemotherapy treatments in pregnancy. I’m supposed to get a nice, private pregnancy where nobody knows when I’m due or is questioning my choices. One where I can focus simply on nourishing myself and allowing biology to do it’s thing in quiet simplicity. I hadn’t planned on letting anyone even measure my fundal height, and here I am having multiple medical consults a week with doctors holding measuring tapes to a tumor growing on my breast while my uterus quietly works on growing in my pelvis, and treatment options rely heavily on exactly how many weeks along I am. This all was feeling like some kind of cruel test that I don’t want or need to be taking!
The author of the pictured poem above (Zuri Scrivens, a past doula student of mine) writes:
Cancer at any age is awful, and as a young adult, it comes with its own mind bending quality. But cancer while pregnant or during the postpartum period, can be the ultimate mind fuck.
Zuri Scrivens @zuriwriting
Between heartbeats, you are experiencing one of the most joyful moments of your life, while also plummeting to the darkest depths of trauma. How does one be ecstatically happy and desperately angry all within the same breath?
I am angry for anyone experiencing this paradox right now. This is not how it should be. And yet, this is how it is.
Cancer is here for a while still, and there will be others. Others who will collapse to the ground in fear and anger and disbelief. Who will make their way to appointment after appointment in a daze, trying to consume medical lingo and procedures all while signing off on consent form after consent form, then heading home to their newborn baby. Who will be poked week after week, month after month, relinquishing their blood for unknown tests behind forbidden doors, all while feeling the first fluttering of kicks behind their own skin. Who will feel alone in the presence of loved ones and comfort in the presence of strangers travelling the same path.
This poem is for all of you. I see you, and I’m with you, offering all the fucks I can. You’ve got this.
I’ve been walking a path of making lots of complicated choices about treatment, balancing getting medical care for myself, keeping our growing pregnancy safe and healthy, and keeping sight of what I believe in about pregnancy and birth and breastfeeding.
I feel like I’m in a phase where I’ve come out on the other side of the grief (though I know it may be a rocky road ahead), and settling into feeling strong, supported, and grateful. Grateful for my amazing birth community taking such fantastic care of me, grateful for our extremely loving and supportive families and incredible friends. Grateful for Gary who has been by my side for every single appointment since the diagnosis, helping to ask questions and to remind me that it’s my body and that everything is my choice. Grateful for Piper (the doggo) who keeps me sane by being my outdoor adventure bud, and grateful for the pregnancy brewing inside of me and the strength that that brings. All the while being acutely aware of how completely ridiculous and unjust it is that all this gratitude is coming along with an un-ordered and unwelcome side of cancer. I won’t pretend I’m not extremely pissed off about it or that I think any of this is okay or has an “upside”, but I am finding the gratitude and the love along side of it.
Please *don’t* tell me you’re sorry (I’ve been through that phase already and am ready to move past it!). Please don’t ask me what my treatment plans are or how or why I came to make them. I promise we will share what and when we feel called to! I am a million times blessed to be surrounded by amazing people with amazing knowledge, have gathered lots of resources from some amazing folks for now, and will reach out and ask if I want more at any time! In the meantime, trust I’ve asked all the questions and will make the best possible choices for myself that I can and that I will surround myself with the right support when I need it or ask for help finding it if needed.
Please *do* feel free to congratulate me on the pregnancy and tell me I’m strong and that you believe in me. It’s my turn to be reminded that I can do this. I’m also taking good novel recommendations and suggestions for secret dog-friendly swimming holes.
The suddenly full-time job of testing and consulting is finally over, and treatment has officially started. I will be taking a leave from attending births for the foreseeable future to undergo the long process of cancer treatments, give birth, and you know, be a new mom (one who will STILL be undergoing treatment postpartum), but Talia and Meena are available to take on new clients with my support through Birth Takes A Village (they’ve swooped in to cover many of my clients already), and if you email us we are happy to give you some options for other doulas as well, depending on what your needs are. My go-tos are Kristie Robin, Morag Hastings, Kendal Blacker and Janice Lim. As time goes on, I will likely be doing teaching here and there with support prior to returning to attending births, so stay tuned for upcoming prenatal classes and workshops.
If you feel called to support me in any practical way, Dawn and Andrea are coordinating different types of care for me and you can reach out to them to ask about what’s needed. Dawn is coordinating most of the community-type care and has set me up with a meal train and is collecting contributions towards other care items for those who want to “do” something. You can email me at birthtakesavillage@gmail.com if you don’t know her / don’t have her contact info and Meena will help you connect (she and Talia are helping me care for my clients and filtering through emails for me)!
If you want to stay in the loop as we journey through our pregnancy with breast cancer, we can catch you up as we feel inspired to – just click here to give me your email address and I’ll add you to the update list.
I will leave you with this – it’s been a favourite poem for a while, but I am reciting this excerpt from it daily these days:
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
~Wendell Berry