One year later

One year later

One year ago, I was laying in a hospital bed. Over the previous two weeks I had gone through an egg harvesting surgery and my second ovarian cancer removal surgery – both were successful, but far from easy.

While it’s only been a year, it feels like many more… not only has 2020 been the year of month-long days, it’s been the bulk of my difficult recovery time. The complexities of what’s happened and what will/could happen are vast…and stretch out every day with frustration, sadness and unknowns.

Physically and mentally, I’ve been working to process and recover through this intense trauma… trying to unburden my mind from the control it’s pushing to have, to feel comfortable in my body again, to keep the experience personal but also break the stigma of talking about it by sharing more, to keep hopes alive and trust the process…

The thing is, I’ve always wanted to be a mom, but it’s clear it won’t be easy. I’ll never be able to surprise our parents with a cute onesie or any have of those silly but meaningful moments. Of course, we are truly blessed to have options with the embryos we have stored. Surrogacy is a possibility, which is awesome but can be incredibly complicated and expensive. There’s still a possibility for me to carry, but the potential for tumor recurrence is risky and unknown.

Every time we discuss it, I have to referee all my feelings fighting each other in the ring – anger that we can’t just have a baby like other people, disappointment and sadness with the idea that I might never be able to get pregnant, fear that if I do choose to try that it could go awry, harsh judgement for not just trying sooner before all this happened, deep anxiety that it even with options it might not happen at all, guilt for feeling like I’m struggling while people of color and LGBTQ people are going through so much, not to mention it seems so crazy and selfish to want to bring anyone into this difficult life we’re all living right now… in summary, it’s hard as hell.

To all those out there struggling with the complex feelings around infertility and loss, you are not alone. For those working through cancer treatment and recovery, you are not alone.

It’s a daily battle.

But we also have gifts that we cannot forget or allow to be snuffed out. We get the gift of a shifted perspective, showing us the world is both immense and small – and there’s no better time to embrace it, share love and speak out than right this second. We know we do not have control and that can help us navigate uncharted waters with greater agility, deeper curiosity, & a more mindful presence. We know that, even when it’s not easy, we will persevere. And we know that it takes a village to provide support, so we can share our hearts and support for others who need us in their village.
 
It’s hard and stupid and I wish we didn’t have to go through it, but we will in fact get through it.
 
All my love to my village, to my family and friends who have helped me along the way. Your lending of light when I’m in the dark is appreciated more than words can describe. 💕✨