So life’s unexpected curveball goes a little something like this–

I was woken up in the middle of the night 2 years into our marriage with excruciating abdominal pain. Went to the emergency room and had an ultrasound revealing a 2-3 cm cyst on one of my fallopian tubes. We were told these things sometimes subside on their own so best to take pain medication and monitor. 2 months later I had another routine ultrasound revealing that the cyst had now become a significant 12-13 cm in diameter tumour that was wrapped in my fallopian tube and needed to be surgically removed. Surgical removal of something that size would likely damage my fallopian tube. We were also told it was a possibility that they may need to remove the ovary and tube in its entirety depending on the damage. Then of course the final nail: a hysterectomy was also possible if they found anything else. All this to tell us having children in the future was going to be difficult if not non-existent. And, oh, it gets better… 2 days before my scheduled surgery I’m requested to go in for an emergency MRI. The MRI reveals that there are “solid parts” to this tumour– “solid parts” aka possibly cancerous. We are rushed in for an emergency meeting with my specialist. We are told that during the surgery there will have to be a biopsy done of the tumour to confirm whether it is benign or malignant.

So there we are. 2 years into marriage. First being told the chances of getting pregnant are iffy at best. Then while I’m under my first ever general anesthesia I will be having a biopsy to see if I have cancer. Cancer at age 28. I could wake up from this surgery to find out I have cancer and will be referred to the BC Cancer Agency for further assessment and treatment discussions. All this is being told to me and to my poor husband who lost his Dad to cancer at age 17. And now me. All I kept thinking was “please don’t do this to him”– I was most worried about the hurt this would cause him. So we prayed. We cried. And we prayed.

I had the surgery. I woke up to find out it was NOT cancer. We cried. Happy tears this time though. But we were also told that the tumour was very complicated and a lot larger than they had initially anticipated [they kept referring to it as a size of a large mango]. My fallopian tube was still there but severely damaged and would likely have a lot of scar tissue. This put me at very high risk of ectopic pregnancy. This damage also could prevent pregnancy from that ovary at all. Then they advised they checked the other side and the pathway is also narrow. Long story long– they gave us a 20% chance of ever getting pregnant. 20%. 2 – 0 – percent. I tried to forget all about what we’d just gone through and what it might mean for the future. I’ll never forget but I’ve gotten very good at compartmentalizing in my old age.. ahem.. I mean ‘years of experience’. Mental health matters so I try my best to stay zen as much as possible.

Fast forward 1 year– my cousin is getting married in the UK. Jason, my brother, myself & a few other family members book our tickets. We decide to see a few different places in Europe as well as attend the wedding in England. One of those added destinations being Paris– my forever dream to visit the Eiffel Tower [I know– super cliche but I am a self proclaimed hopeless romantic]. We had an amazing trip. Not a care in the world– just lots of love, laughs, wine & memories to last a lifetime.

I learned 5 weeks after we got back that I was pregnant. I was pregnant. Me. ME. MEEEE!!! The one they said had a 20% chance. I was excited, scared, nervous– out of my mind really. And then I went into full guard. I had all this trauma surrounding pregnancy already, before even being pregnant. Now I finally was and all I could think about was all the complications. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be happy? Because I’m a worrier, that’s just me. I was brought up in a house where you didn’t look too high because you might fall. If you aim low and success is high– great! But if I aim high and the result isn’t ideal.. well then.. its gonna hurt and you gotta protect yourself. Don’t take risks. Risks are risky. Keep things even keel. Is that a good or bad way, right or wrong way of thinking? I don’t know. It’s just a part of me now. Anywho– that’s for another entry on another day, lol..

To sum up, that is the “back story” to how we got to where we are. It wasn’t a simple journey and these days it seems not many are. It may seem like it’s easy from the outside. And I find that when it does and you seem strong and unfazed you become an easy target for comments. Because why would you be sensitive or why would you be offended– you have it all and it came easy, right? Ummmm not likely…

More next week…