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" No one ever wants to hear the words, &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;ve got cancer.&amp;quot; Unfortunately, so many of us do and when it happens, it feels an awful lot like being the\u00A0recipient of the worst surprise party ever. No matter how much we protest the insistent party-giver, the situation corners us on all sides and derails every other plan we may have had for our immediate future. To add to the unfairness of it all, we don&amp;#039;t even get a cake. At the age of 29, just seven weeks after giving birth to my second child, I was diagnosed with invasive cervical cancer. \u00A0During a time when I should have been basking in the glory of my infant daughter and preparing for my older daughter&amp;#039;s third birthday, which was less than a\u00A0week away, my focus unwillingly shifted to the ominous and unavoidable realization of my own mortality. At least the\u00A0series of medical events that ensued would save my life and keep me busy. When my postpartum pap smear came back abnormal, my\u00A0gynecologist performed a colposcopy and punch biopsy.\u00A0I had a relatively short history of low-grade cervical dysplasia, a precursor of cervical cancer that&amp;#039;s caused by certain strains of the human papilloma virus (HPV), before the birth of my first daughter. Cervical dysplasia is a condition that&amp;#039;s normally monitored through routine pap tests, and treated only if it worsens over time. Mine had clearly been progressing enough to warrant further investigation. I\u00A0hoped\u00A0the results would show nothing more than continued dysplasia, but instead I received\u00A0news that I had a &amp;quot;malignant neoplasm of cervix uteri.&amp;quot; One might think, as I did, that the Ghostbusters could take care of the neoplasm problem, but my doctor insisted that I undergo a minor surgical procedure under general anesthesia, which brought an abrupt and unwanted end to the nursing of my infant daughter. If cervical cancer is caught early enough (Stage 0 or 1A1), the tumor can be removed entirely through a cold knife cone biopsy.\u00A0I was not so lucky. While I was still in the recovery room, my husband gravely informed me that my doctor would refer me to an oncologist.\u00A0She suspected that the accelerated tumor growth was due to the hormonal and metabolic changes that occur during pregnancy. After many examinations, I received my\u00A0diagnosis:\u00A0Stage 1B1 cervical cancer. My treatment options were a combination of radiation with low-dose chemotherapy, or a radical hysterectomy and lymphadenectomy (an extensive surgery that involves the removal of the cervix, the upper third\u00A0or so\u00A0of the vaginal canal, the uterus, all of the surrounding ligaments, tissues, and lymph nodes, and\u00A0the ovaries if deemed necessary).\u00A0 Four months after giving birth to my second \u2014\u00A0and last \u2014\u00A0child, I underwent the radical hysterectomy. I have the vaguest, foggiest, drug-induced recollection of my oncologist coming into my hospital room to inform me that all of the cancer had been removed and my lymph nodes were unaffected. I was &amp;quot;cured.&amp;quot; I would still have to make it through five years without a recurrence to claim that title with any real sense of assuredness, but it was a start. I did not allow my kids to visit me during the week I spent in the hospital. I felt that the whole situation would frighten my three-year-old\u00A0and add unnecessary stress during a time that was already difficult enough for everyone.\u00A0I did my best to reassure my husband\u00A0that I would be fine, that we&amp;#039;d make it through the ordeal together.\u00A0  After I came home, my recovery was painfully slow due to the extent of the surgery.\u00A0For about eight weeks, I was unable to lift my infant daughter. If I wanted to hold her, she had to be gently placed in\u00A0my lap because my hollowed-out abdomen could not handle her body weight. The moment she needed a diaper change or began to cry, someone (usually\u00A0my husband, mother, or stepmother-in-law)\u00A0would take her and tend to her needs. As a mom who was used to being active all day long, it was incredibly difficult to sit and watch as other people did the housework, the\u00A0laundry, and managed the kids, though I couldn&amp;#039;t have\u00A0managed\u00A0without such a strong support\u00A0network.\u00A0  Now, more than 10 years later, I&amp;#039;m still here and cancer-free to the best of my knowledge.\u00A0I will admit that every once in a while,\u00A0I feel the swiftest pang of envy when I see a pregnant woman or a mom of an infant. Bloating, hemorrhoids, and cankles aside, I really did love being pregnant. I find comfort in my own memories of the days when I felt those first flutters and strong kicks, and I&amp;#039;m grateful to have experienced them even though I never will again. That gratitude brings with it an incredible sense of guilt. So many women undergo hysterectomies before they ever have an opportunity to experience pregnancy and motherhood, and I cannot fathom the profound sense of loss they must endure as a result. I know how lucky I am.\u00A0Whenever I hear stories about other women who have tragically lost their own battles with cervical cancer, I can&amp;#039;t help but wonder why I didn&amp;#039;t lose mine. I&amp;#039;m not special.\u00A0I suppose that most of us who have lived through cancer will experience some degree of survivor&amp;#039;s guilt. We can&amp;#039;t help it any more than we can explain why we survived when others didn&amp;#039;t.\u00A0 I can tell you this much, though: Not a single day goes by that I&amp;#039;m not\u00A0grateful for having such an incredible team of doctors and nurses by my side throughout my ordeal. I owe my life to them and it&amp;#039;s a debt that I, nor my family, will ever be able to repay. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/health/a37766/having-cancer-as-a-young-parent/>