The Day My Life Was Changed Forever

Three months. Three months have gone by since I received the best worst news of my life.


My life was what I considered perfect. Absolutely perfect. I was married to my best friend. My husband and I had two amazing daughters, Blakely age 2 and Harper age 4. We prepared for the craziness of adding a third baby into the family, and my husband and I both agreed that #3 was the easiest transition on our marriage and family so far. We were enjoying our kids, we were in lovvvve, and things seemed to be falling into place beautifully. We were at church one Sunday and I remember the pastor’s message vividly. It was about climbing a mountain with his father. He didn’t want to climb it, but with the support and love of his father he made it to the top. The climb was treacherous and difficult, but the view from the top with his father was so rewarding. I remember thinking “God, I don’t know what my ‘mountain’ will be, but I have a feeling something’s coming. Please don’t make my mountain be my relationship! We are in such a good place. Please Lord, keep me in a good place with Brandon.” Life carried on after that church service and I eventually got back into the swing of regular life. I run a pediatric chiropractic office, and I had just moved into a new larger office space to accommodate the incredible families I get to serve.  I came back to work part time seeing clients again as well as teaching a Postpartum BIRTHFIT rehab series. Life was rewarding. I felt like I had figured out the work/mom balance and I was at the top of my game. At one point I literally thought, “My life is complete. I am happy and feel whole.” Little did I know, my world would soon come crashing down around me with uncertainty and fear.  


On Easter Sunday, I was two weeks postpartum. After getting everyone in their Sunday best and going to church I went home and spiked a fever with aches and chills. It was endometritis, an infection in my uterus. This was bizarre, seeing as how I didn’t match any of the risk factors for this type of infection. I chose to take the strong antibiotics, because classically this is an infection you don’t mess around with. A week later I ended up with mastitis. Another infection? What the heck is going on? At this point I had been breastfeeding at least one of my children for almost the last 4 ½ years straight, and not once had I encountered mastitis. I did some homeopathic remedies and tried to take it ‘easy’. Everyone kept asking me if I was overdoing it, and telling me to rest more. I felt like I was doing what my body was capable of. I did have three young kids to keep up with, so lounging on the couch wasn’t usually an option. About 3-4 weeks went by and while the mastitis was gone, it felt like the milk duct on that side just hadn’t cleared out. I went back to my OB several times and saw the nurse as well. I kept saying “I just don’t know why I feel like crap!” I remember telling my husband “This just doesn’t feel like me. I just don’t feel right.” I’m typically super active and a go-getter. The baby is fantastic, and has always been a great sleeper, so I knew it wasn’t newborn sleepless nights getting to me. Eventually I went to my naturopath who also used to be a midwife for fifteen years. If anyone knows how to remedy mastitis, she does! She gave me all the tricks: castor oil packs, homeopathy, heat, vibration – we were going to clear that milk duct once and for all. After doing all the tricks the milk duct felt ten times worse, swollen, painful, and burning. I was certain it was an abscess and I’d just need to have that bad boy drained. I made an appointment for an ultrasound first thing the following week. To my dismay, I left the ultrasound appointment without getting any relief, and a one-way ticket back to their office for a needle biopsy of the solid mass they found obstructing my milk ducts. I was pretty certain that it was just a benign something or other and I’d be just fine. I mean, I was the healthiest person I knew. Over the last 7 years I had made more of an effort to care about my health and make conscious decisions than anyone I had met. We awaited the results.


At just 30 years old, with our 10-week old baby boy sitting on my lap, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 Triple Negative Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. Breast cancer. And not just your run of the mill, ‘remove that little blerb and you’re good’ kind of cancer. This was described to be the most aggressive and difficult to deal with type of cancer. Devastating is the understatement of a lifetime. My ‘oh-so-perfect life’ had just taken a turn, and for the first time I didn’t have a plan for that. There were lots of tears, lots of appointments with many different types of doctors, and lots of recommendations made. (I’ll fill you in on the details of the shenanigans of the first month in another post.)  



Despite the intensity of the situation, the severity of my diagnosis and the uncertainty this had brought my family, I knew there was a purpose. I knew that whatever mountain I was going to climb would have a purpose bigger than I was able to comprehend. Well, I’m blessed to announce, my purpose has started to unfold. I’ve chosen to tell my story here. Transparency and truth lead to big changes, and I’m choosing to say Yes to the path the Lord has lead me down. In just three months so many things have happened. So much has changed. So much healing has taken place. It used to be one of my biggest fears to write something down and have someone, anyone, let alone the entire world be able to read my thoughts. But here I go – fearlessly telling my story in hopes that someone, somewhere will see a glimmer of hope and recognize their true potential for living just as I have.  


*I'm so excited to share the details of this very personal journey with you! Thank you for coming along for the ride!*