A New Future

The phone rang. 

“Hello, this is Staci,” I answered with a smile. I always try to answer with a smile. A customer service representative once told me you can hear a smile over the telephone.

“Hi Staci, it’s Dr. Pollard. Umm, is now a good time? It’s a little loud where you are.”

“I’m just away for the weekend with some girlfriends,” I told her as I laughed. “There’s nine of us and we are all moms away from our kids so we can finally talk uninterrupted! But I’ve been expecting these test results so it’s fine.”

Dr. Pollard laughed with me and then said seriously, “I don’t want to ruin your weekend. I can call you Monday if you'd like.”

And just like that, I knew. And that was the first weekend of October.

*****

As many of you know, October has been a doozy of a month for other reasons too. It was one of those months that felt like running a marathon. I mean, I’ve never ran a marathon, but it seems like it’d be like that. One mile after another or one thing after another. Exhausted but having to push on. No rest in sight. We had three family trips, were robbed, got our stolen property back miraculously, Matt was on paternity leave but hunting for a new job and then starting a new job, and I was trying to wrap my head around this news and a flurry of consultations and appointments.

You see, I have a long family history of breast cancer, and this last summer my dear cousin was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s been gracious enough to allow us to be a part of her journey and has been staying with us for her chemo treatments at Stanford. Watching my beautiful cousin fight this battle, lose her hair, and face all the sickness, made the cancer in my family seem even more real to me than it did as a teenager watching my grandma fight it and ultimately pass from it. So Matt and I decided to have me tested for the BRCA gene and it came back positive for BRCA2. And that’s the call I got the first weekend of October, while surrounded by some of my closest friends.

What does this mean? These results give me a very high risk of breast, ovarian, and/or pancreatic cancer, as well as an elevated risk for melanoma. For those who work well with numbers my results came back like this: 

     -Risk of breast cancer: 84% versus general population risk of 7%

     -Risk of ovarian cancer: 27% versus general population risk of 0.7%

     -Risk of pancreatic cancer: 7% versus general population risk of 1%

Men can also carry this hereditary gene and those who do have a high risk of breast cancer and an elevated risk for prostate cancer. They are also at risk for pancreatic cancer and melanoma. It is advised that anyone who tests positive for this gene work with a multidisciplinary team with experience in the prevention and treatment of cancers associated with these genes. This is also a gene my children have a 50/50 chance of carrying and will possibly want to be tested for after they are 18 years old.

I have created a team at Stanford of a genetic counselor, an oncologist, a breast surgeon, and a plastic surgeon. I feel I am in the very best of hands there. Currently the plan is that I can continue nursing Amy until around her first birthday, then wait three months, and schedule my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. It will take multiple surgeries and many months of recovery. It will require me to ask for a lot of help and depend on a lot of people. Some people may think this means perky new breasts but it’s not a breast augmentation- it’s a breast amputation. And that’s important to understand. I have until I am 40 to remove both of my ovaries and go into automatic menopause, which will be a whole other kind of change to adjust to but I am thankful I can wait a few more years.

Matthew tells me I’m being brave but my choices are cancer or amputation. That doesn’t feel like much of a choice. And it doesn't feel like I’m being brave. I just want to be here for my family. For my children. For my husband. My cousin told me, “Staci, if I could go back in time and be proactive instead of having cancer and chemo, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.” And so doing a double mastectomy, even though I don't have cancer yet, just feels like something I need to do. Sure, I could get regular MRIs and screening and hope we catch something early enough to treat it but I would feel like I’m living with an anvil over my head and waiting for it to drop. It would feel like “when I get cancer” and not “if I get cancer.” 

Because the BRCA gene means my body is at a disadvantage when trying to do what it should do naturally- fight tumors- it’s even more important for me (and my family as my children could carry the gene) to go as organic and natural as possible. There are many things in our world today which interact with our bodies and can cause tumors- items in soaps, detergents, shampoos, makeup, cleaning supplies, processed food, deodorant, candles, etc- and limiting the chemicals in our home can help our bodies not have to fight so hard against them. So I’ve researched and compared and researched some more and have finally found some companies and products I feel good about bringing into our home. It’s been a big change, but one highly suggested by my oncologist, and one I feel is necessary.

As I look ahead to 2018 I have to admit I am filled with a lot of fear. I have fear of surgery and pain and recovery. Fear of looking disfigured. Fear of what it will be like to lose all feeling in my chest as all the nerves will be scraped away along with the tissue. But mainly fear of missing time with my children. After Annalee I know even more so to cherish each moment, and I feel like Amy is growing so fast. The thought of missing so much time snuggling her, carrying her, holding her, and caring for her just wrecks my heart. But I remind myself that missing this time now is in hopes of not missing time in the future. But she is only this small once. And I just want to wrap my arms around her and breathe her in. I just want to let my boys run up and squeeze me tight and carry them to bed because I never know when they’ll be too big and the last time for that will be. Time marches on so quickly.
I’ve chosen to share this news because I believe 100% that knowledge is powerful. Being blessed with the opportunity to be proactive, instead of reactive to a cancer diagnosis, is something I do not take lightly. Some people may feel my medical plan is overreacting and drastic, and that’s their opinion, but I have some of the best doctors in the country and I am going to follow their strong opinions instead because ultimately this is my life I am trying to save.

All my love,
Staci 

Amy Joy Scott

Born February 28, 2017 at 1:11pm

Weight: 7 pounds 12 ounces

Length: 21 inches

........

Amy means Beloved and is so fitting for our sweet girl. 

It is also a name I have loved since I was a little girl. After losing Annalee, when we were talking about what to name her, Matt asked if I wanted to use Amy but I told him I wanted to save it. I needed hope we would use it someday for another little girl we would welcome home.

Her middle name, Joy, is because for months after losing Annalee I laid in bed and cried out to God that He would bring joy back into my life. While I adored my boys, my heart was aching for the little girl we buried, and something- someone- was missing from our family. Joy was missing from my life. And I desperately needed it back. And then 6 months after burying Annalee we found out we were expecting again and I began to hope that this was the joy I had prayed for. Over time, with each movement and kick, my hope and joy grew. And I knew this little girl was His gift. His restoration. My Joy. 

........

I never thought I would be over 41 weeks pregnant, especially after having twins whom I anticipated arriving anywhere from 30 weeks on and were born at 36 weeks, plus so often you hear of people having their babies between 37 and 39 weeks. And yet there I was: 41 weeks and counting. Everyone who had been due before me, at the same time as me, and even after me, had all had their babies already. I had a growing list of over 20 things I had tried to induce labor but none of them had worked. I was hoping for a VBAC this time around but my time was running out before it would be too risky to try, and my options to induce were extremely limited. 

Overall this pregnancy had been so much more enjoyable than the twins. Sure I had heartburn and the usual aches and pains of pregnancy, but I was able to keep the nausea limited with help of medication, I was able to regularly exercise up till the end, and I was still functioning as normally as possible- given my limited movement from my belly and fatigue and achiness- cleaning my house and doing laundry and grocery shopping. I had met my goals of avoiding bed rest, pre-eclampsia (thanks to a 80-100g per day protein diet), swelling, and premature delivery. My last goal was to try for a VBAC delivery.

With the boys I had decided ahead of time that I wanted a c-section. There were so many unknowns about their births and I didn’t want an emergency c-section and recovery to be one of them. But after losing Annalee, and giving birth to her at home, I needed to rewrite my understanding of labor. I didn't want that experience to forever be what I thought about when I heard other people talking about their labor and delivery stories. And I wanted to try for a natural birth because after all I had been though- infertility and years of IVF and injections and loss- I needed to know I was strong enough to do this too. So we hired a phenomenal doula, did everything she suggested, and prayed it would go according to His plan. 

The Saturday before my 41 week checkup I went into labor at home…contractions every 2-3 minutes, shakiness/trembling, and nausea. We contacted our doula and were ready to head to the hospital at any time she advised. And then after 6 hours it just stopped. In the next days we continued to try things to get it going again, knowing that it wasn't totally unusual for labor to stall sometimes. My doula dragged me around parks, power walking, hiking hills, and doing lunges. I consumed a whole bottle of castor oil. I tried homeopathic pills. I took labor tincture. I slathered myself in clary sage, diffused it, and bathed in it. I kept adding items to my list of labor induction methods we had tried. Then at my 41 week check up my OB decided to call it and scheduled me to be induced the next morning. Our only option was to break my water and try a small dose of pitocin. If that didn’t work then I would be headed for a c-section. After 41 weeks and all I had done to meet my goal of a VBAC I was not ready to end up with another c-section. So my doula pulled one last idea out and sent me for acupuncture and a chiropractic adjustment to see if we could get baby in the right place and get things going again. While I was on the acupuncture table poked full of tiny needles, my contractions started up again. Sporadic, but they were there! Hallelujah! The chiropractor noted that baby was half anterior and half posterior- meaning that she was basically sideways when she should have been facing my belly button or my spine, but was facing my side instead- and this was stalling my labor. With a few adjustments she sent me on my way and wished me luck. I headed home, continued my labor induction methods, and went to bed. At 2:30am I woke up and spent the rest of the night in nervous anticipation.

At 5:30am my alarm went off and I eagerly jumped…okay so it was more like a breaching whale…out of bed. I put on some make up, did my hair, got dressed, added a few more things to my hospital bag, ate some fried eggs and toast, and headed out the door by 6:30am. By 7am we were checking into labor and delivery at the hospital, filling out forms, and joking with nurses. Once I was hooked up to several monitors and my IV was in place for whatever I might need, Matt handed me a little black notebook. In it were his thoughts from the whole last year about losing Annalee, my current pregnancy, his thoughts about missing us on all his work trips to China, the things I had craved to eat and asked him to pick up- and the ones he enjoyed most (“Today Staci called me at work and asked why in the world we don’t keep tunafish and pickles and chips in the house. I couldn't stop laughing!”), the things he feared changing in our future, his dreams for our future, and how much we love each other. I read it front to back…I cried…and it was the perfect way to face labor together as a team. 

By 8:30am my OB came in and broke my water. I was NOT expecting it to feel like that! And then within several minutes the contractions started. 6 minutes apart. Then 3 minutes apart. Then 2 minutes apart. By 9:30am I was in full labor without needing a single drip of pitocin. My doula thankfully showed up early just to check in on us and was surprised to see things happening so quickly! She started whipping out her magical doula tools from her Mary Poppins bag- essential oils, diffusers, and such- and got to work getting me in positions to ride out contractions and encourage baby to move along. Matt held me as I labored, my doula massaged me, and we moved as a team around the room from position to position, my labor progressing much faster than any of us anticipated, I believe. Before I knew it I was unable to stop myself from pushing. The nurse checked me and said I was only at an 8 and needed to hold back but I just couldn’t and I flew right through transition.

Somehow till this point I had kept my sense of humor and joy between contractions. I recall telling Matt I was so glad that I hadn't tried this with the twins….I couldn't imagine pushing one baby out and then having to do this all over again for the second! At one point after a contraction I told him with a little smile, “I no like it,” which is just a little inside joke we have had for years and years. 

In the background I had a playlist playing of worship songs that I had made after Annalee- songs that I had kept close to remind me of His goodness, even as I sobbed my heart out in grief. Now these same songs were reminding me of His goodness as I labored to bring life to our next child. It felt like a full circle of restoration, and tears silently slipped down my cheeks while Matt wiped them away. Together we knew the power of these moments together. Of how far He had brought us. 

Quietly moving around the room was my dear friend and photographer Cari. She crept seamlessly behind the scenes, capturing this day for us from behind her lens. After Annalee, Cari sat with me and cried. She held me and just simply sat in my grief with me. And then with this pregnancy she celebrated with us. And she cried some more with me but this time out of rejoicing. So nothing felt more right than to have her be a part of this moment with us. She was the one who told Matt I had moved into transition when I started telling him I didn’t want to do this anymore. In my mind I was tired, ready for a nap, and wanted nothing more than to get up, walk out of that room, take a break from the pain and fatigue, and come back to things when I was more refreshed. :)

It was a matter of minutes between when the nurse checked me and when my OB popped in, but when she did she saw I was ready to go, called in her team, and a flood of nurses were suddenly hovering over me. My doula was scooping up my shoulders, Matt was on the other side, and everyone was telling me to push. I recall my OB saying it would probably only take two pushes but it ending up taking four. ;) I felt like it took forever for the baby to come out. My doula grabbed my hand to touch her head but I just remember saying, “I don’t want to touch her head, I just want her head out!” And suddenly there she was on my chest! Later Cari and my doula told me she came out with one hand tucked by her face and then raised in the air after her head was out, and all that extra pressure and added circumference were holding things up while I was pushing. 

I wish I could say that this was a magical time of staring with love into my husband’s eyes and gazing in awe and wonder at our daughter but every birth story has a surprise element and this is where mine came in. Immediately after giving birth my placenta became stuck and my OB realized we would need to put me under general anesthesia to get it out. So as I lay there in pain and unable to focus much on the tiny one placed on my chest, the anesthesiologist came in to talk to me and began prepping me, the nurses placed our baby in my husband’s arms, and then I was being wheeled across the hall to the operating room. As my hospital bed began to clear the door I had one last glimpse of Matt holding our newborn daughter and the thought crossed my mind that I might be leaving the love of my life with an infant and two boys to care for on his own….and then suddenly a mask was on my face, my next thought was that a nap and no pain sounded mighty nice, and I was out. 

When I woke in the recovery room and saw Matt and our doula and our baby girl it was such a blessed relief. Not only was everything okay, but the pain meds had me in a place where I could finally focus on her, celebrate her, and have those coveted moments with my husband. I learned that I had lost more than a liter of blood and was at half my hemoglobin. Usually you are supposed to be at a 12 and I was at a 6. It ended up taking three blood transfusions over 2 days to get me up to about a 9, which was enough to release me home. But until that time every nurse who came into my room commented on the fact that I was as white as my bed sheets. Even our pediatrician who came in to check on baby commented on how ill I looked. I even heard him tell a nurse in the hall, “I know her in real life and she DOES NOT look like that” and wanted to check on my care plan. :) Apparently he not only takes excellent care of our kids but of me too! Since I was stuck in bed I never got a chance to see how I actually looked but I know I didn’t feel well. 

Part of hoping for a VBAC was wanting a speedier recovery and while, due to the blood loss, I didn’t get that and was still stuck in a bed (in fact, I am still stuck in bed at home), I did meet all my other goals. And most importantly everything felt so complete and like it happened as it was supposed to that I can’t complain or be upset. My weeks of pumping for 3-6 hours each day in hopes of starting labor provided me with enough colostrum in my freezer that, even though my milk came in so late due to blood loss, I never had to supplement with formula. All the extra time she was tucked away inside me meant she came out healthy and strong and happy. Overall she is an excellent baby, easy going, and eating every 3 hours or so (sometimes 4!). We brought her home from the hospital weighing 7 pounds 4 ounces and at her one week check up she was already at 7 pounds 14 ounces! While my road to recovery will be long due to the blood loss- I was told possibly months to return to my usual energy level- as well as other everything else, I couldn't be happier with her birth. 

Tonight will be one week that we have been home. Lucas is ecstatic about his baby sister and Andrew seems to be very anxious about what this change means. It has been hard to not be able to be on my feet and reassure him that everything is going to be okay and life will return to normal- he still sees his momma stuck in bed, unable to play, and unable to even eat with everyone at the table. We have celebrated Matt’s birthday as best as we can given our restrictions. Matt’s sister ran out to get his birthday balloon for me. I had a card ready from me and the boys. I sent him on a bike ride as his birthday gift as I know those things will be limited for awhile. My mom has been here helping and went out with Matt and the boys to pick up a birthday dessert. We are doing the best we can, and when my mom leaves my friends have set up meals to be delivered.

We feel so incredibly blessed. While I nurse my sweet girl I stare into her face, I trace the tiny veins in her hands, and I marvel at how my body put together every cell and bone and muscle and vein and fingernail and hair. I stare in awe at the beauty He has created. I weep with joy at the restoration He has done in my life this last year. And I know in the deepest parts of my heart what I have always clung to: He is good. 

(And if you have made it to the end of this novel- congrats! Many of these details are purely for my own memory but I am honored to share them with you!)

PAL: Pregnancy After Loss

I've been quiet about this topic for a long time; not quite sure what to say, how much to say, or how to even start putting my feelings into words. And honestly, as I sit here to type this, I still have no idea what to put down in this post.

Today marks one year ago that I gave birth to Annalee. This last year, oh goodness, how it wrecked me. I started 2016 with such joy and hope and peace and when it all came crashing down so suddenly last January 10th I felt lost and swept away in a sea of grief. For months I followed the tides of trying to return to life and being caught up in the waves of loss and aching sadness. For so long I just prayed and prayed for joy to return to my life and heart.

Fast forward to June when we found out I was finally expecting again and my heart stood still. So much of me wanted to rush forward in excitement but then so much held me back with fear. And then we found out this pregnancy was experiencing the exact same subchorionic hematoma complications that caused me to lose Annalee. Every day I waited for the bleeding to begin. For the labor to begin. To bury another little one. I was afraid to breathe, to live life, to leave the house should it happen out in public again. But somehow each day passed and it didn't happen. Somehow at each scan the last hematoma had absorbed, and yet a new one- or two- appeared. And then finally at 20 weeks there were none. And a little hope bloomed slowly in my heart. For weeks people who saw me in everyday life had been guessing I was expecting- I started showing by 8 weeks- but I finally felt ready to tell them.

The PAL journey this last year has been hard. Reliving my first trimester all over again was challenging. The fatigue, the irritability, the nausea, the pains...all of it was so much harder knowing that I had just put my family through that 6 months prior. Knowing that I should be enjoying nesting and kicks and enjoying the planning of bringing a little one home but instead I was starting from scratch- and there were no guarantees this one would make it either. The emotional battle was just as hard as the physical battle. The blessing of being pregnant again was mixed with fear of loss, sadness over missing what I had lost, and guilt over so many conflicting emotions.

I haven't shared much of this pregnancy because of those struggles, plus the logistics of caring for twin toddlers while pregnant and having a hubby who works long hours and often travels overseas for work (several months in a row this last year). After those first 20 weeks I have been blessed with being able to experience a "normal" and beautiful pregnancy. It has been a whole other world to only have one baby in my womb instead of twins. My second trimester was much more enjoyable than it was with the boys. I exercised 5 days a week, had energy, my heartburn didn't kick in until week 28 this time (instead of week 18 with the boys), I slept pretty well, and I had an appetite! I think my third trimester has been much more ideal than the twins, too. Once we reached the point of viability in this pregnancy I felt myself relax a little more, lean into the idea that this baby could be coming home in my arms, and start to prepare our home and hearts for her.

Ironically today, on this anniversary of loss, I watched this current baby girl on the ultrasound screen move and wiggle in my womb. One year ago I prayed in that ER room, "the Lord giveth and taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord," and indeed He does, for here we are today getting ready to celebrate a new life next month. His plan is surely not ours but I know there is reason and purpose in it.

2016 has taught me that my heart can live in sorrow and joy at the same time. That our sorrows can bring us joy as they draw us nearer to one another. That we each have our hard things that we go through and we can either let them defeat us or we can cling to Him and move forward. And with that, my boys are up from nap and asking to snuggle with momma and baby sister...and that is a blessing I am going to fully indulge in. That is moving forward.

Hugs, love, and blessings for 2017.