Two years ago I found a lump.
A lump on my breast.
I had an ultrasound then, and was told everything looked OK and to come back for a follow up.
Life happened and I got distracted and forgot to follow up.
I got pregnant again, had a baby boy and was busy raising twin toddlers.
A few months ago I mentioned my follow up ultrasound to my doctor and was booked an appointment in December.
A week before Christmas, I got a call from my doctors office saying that the ultrasound was inconclusive and I would need to biopsy the lump to see if it was cancerous.
I was told that the chances of it being cancer in a woman as young as me is rare.
I was told that it was more then likely going to turn out to be benign.
I was told most likely all would come back clear, but we needed to check to be safe.
More then likely.
But what if likely was not my story?
What if it was something bad?
Something that could take me away from all I love.
I tried to keep together.
I tried to be my own rock.
My own support.
I tried to shield those closest to me from the fear I was experiencing.
I tried to shield them from the words ‘biopsy’ and ‘cancer’.
That was impossible.
I was scared and nervous.
I was exhausted from wresting with my subconscious.
I was trying hard to stop it from taking me to that ‘that dark place’ of fear.
The fear of the cancer and what it could take from me.
I ended up taking my frustration and anxiety out on my loved ones.
I was distant and ‘snappy’.
I was angry.
Angry that this was happening and angry at my breasts and body.
My body had ‘failed me’ earlier this year with Cantons birth and the rupture of my uterus.
With that experience, I had lost the ability to (safely) have any more babies.
Now my breasts were ‘failing me’.
I avoided talking or even thinking about my upcoming procedure.
I distanced my self from the reality.
I refused to write about it.
Scared that acknowledgement would make it real.
And that the realness of it all would break me.
So I pushed it all away.
The feelings of fear and resentment.
I pushed them all to the back corner of my soul.
And soon I forgot about it.
Today arrived and I awoke to the memory of my upcoming appointment.
Today at 10:15 am, I would have to remember.
My mom took me.
Not letting me be alone in my fear.
We got there early.
Tried and succeeded in not talking about the upcoming experience.
I was eventually ushered into a small ultrasound room.
A room that looked all too familiar.
A room that reminded me of many experiences before.
Positive experiences of my pregnancies.
The first time I heard a heartbeat.
The first time I saw two little bodies entangled together.
The miraculous ultrasound when I saw Canton’s pulsing heart beat on the screen after a night of bleeding and being told that we had lost him.
Those ultrasounds that were all mine in my womanly glory.
The ultrasounds, that as a mother, I will never forget.
These memories put me in my ‘happy place’.
With and open heart and loving acceptance.
As I lay in the procedure room, topless and eyes closed, it began.
The radiologist was taking a biopsy of my left breast.
The breasts that were a part of me as a woman.
Just as the previous experiences in rooms similar brought me closer to my ‘womanly essence’,
this experience did the same thing.
Brought me closer to the ‘woman in me’.
The fear and anger left me.
Flew away like debris on a windy day.
I was not angry anymore.
I was not resentful towards my body.
I didn’t see this as another attack on the ‘bits’ of me that were woman.
I realized that ‘the woman in me’ rested deep in my soul.
And that its wasn’t taken away from me.
That it couldn’t be taken away from me.
My ‘woman power’ was in my children.
In our joined experiences.
It was intertwined my my life path.
In the actions of my love.
It was strong in me,
no matter how my body reacted.
And I felt joyful.
Weird, I know, but it is the truth.
I felt strong and powerful.
It was all going to be OK, because no matter what I was being given the truth.
I was allowing myself to be vulnerable.
And letting go of my fear.
I left the hospital feeling lighter then I had in weeks.
I was ready to let go.
Be vulnerable and open.
And whatever the result are (I should know in 2 and 1/2 weeks)
I am ready to accept the truth with an open heart.
“In the deepest, darkest of hours is often when things become the brightest”