Posts Tagged ‘fertility’

Finding Fertility as a Young Adult Cancer Survivor

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(As seen in Cancer Knowledge Network’s #YARally)

“I’m sorry to tell you, it’s cancer. You will need an emergency hysterectomy followed by chemotherapy and radiation.” With one fell swoop, my life, dreams, and plans dramatically changed. Not only did I learn that I had cancer, but also that my chances of bearing children were erased.

Prior to my diagnosis, my husband and I spoke frequently about having children. We dreamt about how many we would have and what their names would be. We laughed at who they would take after. Would they be fiercely independent (and stubborn) like their mom or gentle and patient like their dad? Would they have Matt’s tan complexion and my blue eyes? We noticed every pregnant woman passing by and couldn’t even walk through Target without perusing the baby section, dreaming of all the possibilities to come. Babies were destined to be in our future.

From a young age, we both felt called to be parents. Though we initially got married with the five-year plan in mind, after our first year of marriage, we were both struck with a bad case of baby fever. We no longer wanted to wait and were ready for a bundle of joy. However, no sooner could we begin the journey to pregnancy before a monstrous disease barged through the front door of our lives. Cancer began to fill every area of our perfectly prepared existence, quickly leaving no room for children.

Dreams began to disintegrate right before our eyes. No matter how tightly we clung to our hopes of bearing children, the dust of our wishes slipped between our fingers, disappearing into eternity.

We begrudgingly traded morning sickness for chemotherapy induced nausea. OB/GYNs for oncologists. Ultrasounds for PET scans. Mom bobs for bald heads. Baby showers for fundraisers. Dirty diapers for hospital bed catheters. Pint-sized outfits for hospital gowns. Pregnancy pains for surgery recovery. Labor and delivery for a radical hysterectomy. Motherhood for survival.

Shortly after my diagnosis and prior to my hysterectomy, we met with a fertility specialist. We learned about preserving fertility and what that could look like for us if we chose to walk that path. She versed us on the difference between surrogacy and gestational carriers, and taught us what an IVF journey looks like. We spoke about harvesting eggs, creating embryos, and freezing them for future use. We learned that not only could we adopt children, we could also adopt embryos. Our fertility doctor shared organizations that financially covered the cost of IVF for cancer patients. The immense knowledge that we learned in that first meeting not only gave us peace, comfort, and understanding, but also left us incredibly overwhelmed. How would we even begin to figure out what to do?

Because of the aggressive nature of my type of cancer, we were given a short amount of time to decide which route we would take. In fact, in our case, we had one hour to make the most life-impacting decisions one can make. Diagnosed on a Wednesday, by Friday we needed to have a game plan. The reason our decision needed to be made so quickly was due in part to the fact that the following Monday I would either be going into surgery, or beginning the four week process of harvesting my eggs. The single most terrifying and stressful moment thus far has been figuring out what path to walk.

Would we move forward with our fertility specialist and begin the process of harvesting my eggs in order to create embryos that someday would become our biological children, or would we choose surgery with my oncologist, saving my life but reducing the chances of creating a biological family? Ultimately, after endless tears, prayers of desperation, and emotional pain, my husband and I reached a conclusion. The priority was my life, and regardless of if our children were biological or adopted, they would need a healthy mother. The following week I underwent a radical hysterectomy.

They say hindsight is always 20/20 and I agree. After further testing of my tumor, we learned that my diagnosis was much more critical than we initially thought. I was given less than a 20% chance of surviving the first year. The type of cancer I was fighting was hormonal and in order to harvest eggs, I would have needed to be on daily hormone injections. We cringe at the thought of what might have happened had we chosen that path. I would likely not be here today.

The reality is, every young adult with cancer faces a multitude of decisions including matters of fertility. Many are fortunate enough to have doctors inform us of our choices before making final decisions that may inhibit fertility in the future. However, too often young adults are not made aware of the finality some treatments may cause for their dreams of having biological children once they enter remission. A cancer diagnosis brings fear, and many treatment plans are decided under pressure and fear of survival without consideration of the lifelong ramifications of rushed decisions. Before making treatment decisions, young adults need to feel comfortable with the full scope of what life during treatment and life after cancer will look like with each option.

Each diagnosis is different than the next. Therefore, each treatment journey looks different as well. Depending on what type of cancer, the location of the malignancy, staging, and necessary treatment, preserving fertility should be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. My decision may not be the same as yours, and that’s okay. Young adults should be aware of every option before reaching a conclusion for their fertility. Not only is there IVF, harvesting and preserving embryos, but should the route of forgoing chances of a biological family be chosen (or required), one must know that that does not close the door on hopes of a future family. There are several options for family planning, and the choices continue to expand in number as our advances in the medical community continue to grow.

My husband and I have always wanted to adopt, and once we grieved the loss of a biological family, we knew that my diagnosis was affirmation of that path. However, we feared that due to my medical history, we would be disqualified from adoption. I’ve lost my ability to conceive and carry a child, would I now lose the ability to even adopt one? After further investigation and a handful of helpful adoption advocates and agencies, we have learned that my diagnosis will not affect our chances of adopting. In fact, though we are only in the beginning stages of our adoption journey, we have seen several friends, who are young adult cancer survivors, with beautiful, successful adoption stories.

Though a young adult may not be ready for children yet, they should be well informed of their options before making crucial decisions. This is where our oncologists, fertility specialists, and advocates play a significant role. A cancer diagnosis can be emotionally paralyzing — a fog that causes decision making to feel impossible. Medical professionals have an important duty to walk alongside us, advocating for our future. It is imperative that oncologists and fertility specialists view our fertility and family planning as if it were their own.

Most young adults are unaware of the multitude of family planning options that exist in the medical community, but with the help of caring doctors, finding fertility can be a much less daunting task. There is hope for finding fertility and family planning as a young adult diagnosed with cancer.

Jeremiah 29:11 (ESV)

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

Babies On The Brain

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Prior to my diagnosis, my husband and I spoke frequently about having children. We dreamt about how many we would have and what their names would be. We laughed at who they would take after. Would they be fiercely independent (and stubborn) like their momma or gentle and patient like their daddy? Would they have Matt’s tan complexion and my blue eyes? We noticed every pregnant woman passing by and couldn’t even walk through Target without perusing the baby section, dreaming of all the possibilities to come. Babies were destined to be in our future.

From a young age, we both felt called to be parents. Though we initially got married with the five-year plan in mind, after our first year of marriage, we were both struck with a bad case of baby fever. We no longer wanted to wait and were ready for a bundle of joy. However, no sooner could we begin the journey to pregnancy before a monstrous disease barged through the front door of our lives. Cancer began to fill every area of our perfectly prepared existence, quickly leaving no room for children.

Dreams began to disintegrate right before our eyes. No matter how tightly we clung to our hopes of bearing children, the dust of our wishes slipped between our fingers, disappearing into eternity.

We begrudgingly traded morning sickness for chemotherapy induced nausea. OBGYNs for oncologists. Ultrasounds for PET scans. Mom bobs for bald heads. Baby showers for fundraisers. Dirty diapers for hospital bed catheters. The clean baby smell for sterile alcohol wipes. Midnight feedings for night sweats. Pint-sized outfits for hospital gowns. Pregnancy pains for surgery recovery. Labor and delivery for a radical hysterectomy. Motherhood for survival.

Cancer took precedence over everything in our path. We entered the fight immediately, and dreams of babies fell to the wayside. The more chemotherapy treatments I had, the less conversations my husband and I shared about our future children. Soon we would go months and even years without the mention of kids. Everyone around us was getting pregnant and raising beautiful little bundles, yet we were stuck in the fight for my life. Discussing children became painful — an open wound. Every word spoken was like sprinkling salt over the gash. Cancer handed us the shovel, and grief buried our dreams. Whenever we would talk about children, the loss would surface and the pain broke what pieces were left of our hearts. Quickly our baby fever calmed to a manageable temperature and lay dormant in the back of our minds.

For over three years we have been solely focused on my survival. One day at a time, not getting ahead of ourselves, for the journey of fighting cancer is relentless and unpredictable. Treatment successfully ended in January and my most recent scans showed that I am cancer-free. While knocking on every piece of wood in my sight and believing in the healing power of God, this time feels different. The bandaid covering our previously gaping wound has been lifted and underneath we have found hope. Where there once was a stinging pain of our loss of fertility, there now remains joy for our future. Though it looks different, one thing is for sure… Our hearts still beat for the little heartbeats we will hear someday.

Our dreams never died. While buried under the ache of grief, they transformed and grew. In the midst of our sorrow, God was working in the darkest area of our hearts — the place we fiercely protected. He was making a way. He was healing the emptiness so that it could be someday filled with a future love. Our destiny was to lose fertility so that we could gain a love intended only by the hand of God. A love that will explain a portion of the “Why.” A love destined to be ours. A love that has been woven into our hearts unidentified until chaos exposed it. This love has always existed within our souls, and through tragedy has been magnified. No matter that they won’t be born with our DNA or be birthed from my womb, our children will always be our children and our love for them will be unmatched. Our destinies have already intertwined.

Healing has come, and the conversations have begun again. The dark cloud of grief is dissipating, and light is shining in the dark once more. God is revealing His purpose for our parenthood. He is restoring dreams and washing hope over our wounds like a gentle salve. He is gifting us glimpses behind the curtain, and preparing our hearts for what is to come. We are dreaming again. Excitement is being renewed. Grief has passed like waves drifting back out to sea, and the shore holds immeasurable joy. Though it’s still uncertain how God will bring us our babies, we have hope that He will. He holds our dreams tighter than we ever could, and wishes only the best to come. Though cancer robbed us of our fertility, it will not rob us of our parenthood. Babies are on the brain once again.

Hebrews 10:23 (ESV)

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

Bittersweet and Thankful

Matt and Stephanie. (May 2010)

We’ve been waiting for nearly a year to hear the news. Are biological children a part of our story?

You can read about when we first had to make the difficult decision to either proceed with my hysterectomy, or to hold off and harvest my eggs here . Thankfully, we proceeded with the surgery and I am still alive today. Cancer-free, mind you. Because my Oncologist understood our desire for biological children, and because my ovaries had not been touched by this disease, she decided to transpose them to a higher location in my abdomen; she moved them with hopes that they could be protected from the harmful radiation procedures. Three months after my last cancer treatment, we were told I could take a blood test that would determine if my ovaries were still in working condition. I took the FSH/LH/Estrogen test last week and we received the results a couple of days ago.

“Your current FSH (Follicle Stimulating Hormone) is at a 48.8. A normal FSH is less than 10, and an FSH greater than 20 is generally not recommended to use your own eggs to try to get pregnant. At a 48, it’s unfortunately pretty bad news. It looks like your cancer treatments had a very bad effect on your ovaries, which is pretty common. It looks like that is probably not an option now.”

For those who have been close to us through this journey, you know that we just wanted an answer. Is it a yes or a no for “bio-kids?” Regardless of the outcome, we wanted to know what path we needed to further investigate. Although it’s bittersweet, we are very thankful to finally have an answer. And God is still good. We now can focus more on the process of finding our children, and not on the process of personally conceiving our own. Adoption is a life-changing journey for all involved, and we have spoken about this option before we even got married. Adoption has always been on the table. To be honest, we thought it would be just that… an option. However, we have now discovered that God has intentionally called us to this form of parenting. Although our fertility nurse has told us that it’s bad news, we are choosing to see it as a blessing. Our story continues to have chapters that few people experience, and for that not only are we grateful, but we think it’s pretty cool, too.

Being grateful is a powerful thing. When you can look beyond your circumstances and see the gifts you’ve been blessed with, your life will transform. My husband and I are thankful that I am still here on this earth. Because of that, I can continue to be a loving wife and will still have the chance to be a mother someday. We are thankful that God continues to reign over our story and direct our path. We are thankful that we have each other and are confident that our journey to adoption is going to be full of joy. We continue to look forward to uncovering God’s plan for our lives, and we will never cease our praise for the wonderful things He has done and will continue to do. Even though our hearts were set, God knows ultimately what is best for us. And frankly, how awesome is it that we get to go down the road less traveled?!

Alongside our grateful hearts, we are still grieving. Through marriage you learn the differences between men and women, and this adventure has continued to shine light on that. As a woman, I think we generally process things a lot quicker. I have been grieving since the day my reproductive organs were removed. It’s gotten easier as the days and months have gone by, but there are still moments where I am sad that I will never be able to feel my child from inside my womb. Men take a little longer to process change. Matt has held on and believed with great faith that my eggs would still be alive and well. With this news, it has brought a finality to the hope he carried. For him, it’s almost as if the grieving has just begun. We ask that you continue to pray for peace and understanding in this time. We are in this together, and continue to cling to each other on this roller coaster through life. The fact still remains: Matt will be a daddy, and I a mommy; We WILL be parents. No matter if our children come from our bodies or from someone else’s they will still be our own. It’ll be a momentous occasion when we can tell our children how truly hard we fought for them.

Now that we know how we will have children, many are probably wondering when we will begin “trying” for kids. We are blessed to have several friends who have chosen adoption, or who themselves are adopted; therefore, we have many close resources to turn to. We will begin researching, learning, and gathering as much information about adoption that we possibly can. However, we have decided that until I reach my two-year mark clean and clear of cancer, children are going to have to wait a little while. After all, we want to make sure that our children get a healthy mom and not a sick one. Until we decide to be open for placement, we will continue to fill our brains with as much knowledge that can fit. We will attend seminars, information meetings, and read as many articles on adoption that is available to us. We believe that the more knowledge we obtain, the better the journey will be.

We have been praying for our children for years, and look forward to when God chooses to place them into our life. For now, He’s got them…And I feel confident knowing, He’s the best babysitter out there.

Psalm 113:4-9 (The Message)

“God is higher than anything and anyone, outshining everything you can see in the skies. Who can compare with God, our God, so majestically enthroned, surveying his magnificent heavens and earth? He picks up the poor from out of the dirt, rescues the wretched who’ve been thrown out with the trash, seats them among the honored guests, a place of honor among the brightest and best. He gives childless couples a family, gives them joy as the parents of children. Hallelujah!”

Living Life Scan to Scan

Today’s Check-up! (November, 2012)

I don’t want to be a cancer survivor living my life from one scan to the next.

After a cancer diagnosis it’s hard not to want to rush through the treatment and get to the finish line. It’s difficult to live life for today and not for the three months or two years from now. I would be lying if I told you I had never prayed and asked God to quickly speed up time and allow me to wake up cancer-free and in remission in 2014. I even said, “I don’t care if I miss what happens in these next couple years, just get me to the finish line!” It’s the truth. Like it or not. Now, of course I don’t want to miss out on any part of my life, but there have been times where the future looks so much brighter than the present. But is it really? We have no way of knowing, and that’s what keeps my dependance and reliance on God burning still.

Whenever I get in these little “funks” of wanting to push the fast forward button through life, my husband reminds me that we shouldn’t be living life scan to scan. That if I continue to keep blinders on and only focus on the two-year mark, I’ll be missing out on everything that is happening now. I’ll admit it, he’s right. I don’t want to speed through these next few years, because they are equally a part of my story as my declaration of remission is. As an avid reader, I think of it this way: If a book was missing two of it’s chapters, the story wouldn’t be complete, would it? The middle is just as important as the beginning and the ending. The middle affects the rest of the story, and if I were to speed through these next two years, my ending wouldn’t be the same.

I have begun reciting statements to myself everyday. No, I’m not referring to talking to myself (although, that does happen); I simply mean that I make an internal declaration daily. “Today is going to be a great day. I’m alive. I’m thankful. I’m living life for today, and I am cancer-free.” In good moments these statements are easy to repeat, however when my mind wanders down the “what-if” path, sometimes I have to work hard to convince myself. Remaining positive and truly believing that I am healed takes work but makes a huge difference in how I live my life. I am a believer of many things. Top of the list is Jesus Christ, and right below is that through Him I have been healed. Believing in anything takes a large amount of trust. To declare that I believe my body is cancer-free equally means that I trust that treatment has done it’s job. That I trust in the knowledge my doctors possess. That I trust that the surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation has run it’s course effectively. And ultimately, I trust that God works everything together for my good.

Today I am reminded why I should follow my husband’s advice and live life in the now and not the future. I had my first three month check up since the end of treatment. Now that treatment and doctors visits aren’t a daily or even weekly deal, walking through the halls of the hospital to my doctor’s office brings back a rush of memories, thoughts, and emotions. Because I have a heightened sense of smell and often tie smells to memories, the aroma of the hospital hallway that leads to my oncologist stirs up an avalanche of feelings. Frankly, I don’t like being there. Simply because that’s where I endured my vast hours of cancer-fighting procedures. My brain immediately goes into unsure and anxious mode. Luckily those anxieties diminish once I step foot into the office and am greeted by my wonderful team of nurses. Today’s appointment could not have gone any smoother. I absolutely adore my medical team. They have become a part of my family. Because I don’t see them as often as I used to, every time that I do, it’s like a family reunion. After catching up on the latest in each of our lives, we get down to the nitty gritty. The gloves go on (quite literally) and the games begin.

My oncologist did a pelvic exam, pap smear, overall body check, and blood draw. The blood draw was almost invisible next to the laughter that we were sharing in the tiny exam room; Who says a trip to the gynecologic oncology office can’t be fun? Once the gloves were off, she shared the news… Everything looks and feels wonderful! Not only does my body look and feel healthy, I’ve officially lost twenty pounds since my visit three months ago! She continues to be amazed at my recovery and resilience. What a breath of fresh air, and news that I definitely needed to hear. Another weight was lifted off my shoulders, and I can breathe a little easier now. I think that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of my road to remission…With every good appointment and clear scan, a little more is going to be lifted off my shoulders.

More of what needs to be shared is the reason behind the blood draw. Typically at this stage in the game, blood draws aren’t necessary. For me, because I have chosen to keep my port for a little while, I will need to get it flushed every six to eight weeks to prevent clogging. However, because I am out of treatment and resuming my daily life with no “issues,” testing my blood levels is no longer high on the agenda. So why did they take my blood today? They will be testing my fertility. Some of your jaws may drop because you thought that wasn’t even a possibility. And while I still cannot and will never be able to carry my own child, there still is a chance that I might have eggs. During my hysterectomy, my oncologist transposed my ovaries to a higher location so they could be out of the way of radiation, and also with hopes that my eggs could be saved through the brutal treatment. I like to joke and say, “Who knows? They could be in my armpits!” Probably not.

My doctors have informed me that I would notice immediately if my ovaries died or were affected in any way. So far, only a couple months passed where I was having minuscule, dare I say, “hot flashes.” Frankly, they were nothing like what those of you in menopause have shared with me. I was not ripping the sheets off of myself at night, and my body wasn’t being engulfed in sweat. My face would just get slightly flush every now and then. Not every hour. Not every day. These bursts of heat, as I’ll refer to them, have completely disappeared over the last two months. When I shared that news with my oncologist, with a smile on her face she hugged me and shared her enthusiasm. Therefore, because I don’t show any signs of menopausal symptoms, my ovaries could still be alive and well. And if they are, the eggs that are nestled in them could have possibly survived the storm. You can do the math. Eggs+Sperm=Baby. If my eggs are good, Matt and I will then decide if we want to harvest them and go down the In Vitro Fertilization route. Because we don’t have the results yet, I won’t get ahead of myself. But keep checking back for updates on the baby makers! My team has informed me that I should receive the results by tomorrow. For now, please pray that my ovaries are alive and healthy, and that we will find peace in the test results. We put our hope not in a scan or a test, but in Him.

Romans 8:26-28 (The Message)

“Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.”