There is space for those who want children, those who want children and can’t have them, and those who unequivocally know that parenthood isn’t for them. What about those of us who are right in the middle?
Every year parents struggle to hold back tears as they drop off their children for their first day of kindergarten. The truth is, it’s harder for us parents than it is for the kids, but what about the moms who have survived breast cancer
The first time I read Harry Potter, I felt like I was immersed in a world that was so surreal, yet so relatable. Amongst the fantasy there were simple humans, with complex emotions that they were trying to work through.
Adjusting when it feels like all is taken from you. From being in control to finding peace.
Amongst all the good times, the #baddies also came to handle business. We spent a full day learning and strategizing so that we can all contribute to expanding the reach of For the Breast of Us. It was a great time bouncing ideas off one another, learning of each other’s strengths and areas of interest, and committing to work together to ensure that other women get to experience For the Breast of Us. We entered as strangers, but we left as sisters.
After just one day with these women, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was stripped of the armor I seemed to wear daily. The armor of the strong mother and daughter, the wife who was rediscovering her sexuality, the strong black woman at work .. even the model Breast Cancer thriver. Amongst that group of amazing women, I got to shed these layers, bare my soul, and eventually bare parts of my body that others often take to represent the extent of our journeys.
I sat in her office completely caught off guard by the fact that she had scheduled an oophorectomy without any discussion. In fact, when I started treatment, no one ever mentioned any fertility options to me.
Is it possible that I spent my entire battle with breast cancer fighting for everyone else? The words you forgot about me rang out like a gong in my head. Is it possible that I was so busy making sure everyone else was ok that I forgot about…me?
Raise your hand if you’ve experienced discoloration, sensitivity, or even complete loss of your nails while undergoing chemotherapy? Well, me too girl! I want to share just a couple of tips and tricks to avoid further damage to your nails and how to grow healthy nails.
While breast cancer united us all, my needs as a Latina with a young family were not the same as a 75-year-old white woman with grown children. Our families were different, our cultures were different, and our needs as breast cancer patients were different. I wanted to fill the gap that I knew existed for others like me.
