my story

I remember it distinctly.  I was at work in my edit suite and my coworker/girlfriend wandered in to chat.  I looked at her and said “Jose is going to be a dad”.  She didn’t wait for me to finish the rest of the sentence.  Instead, she jumped up in excitement and threw her arms around me; congratulating me.  What she didn’t hear me say was “and I’M not pregnant”.  

You see, at age 30, I had married a broken man.  I believe he loved me.  He tried to be the man he thought I wanted and it went against the core of who he was.  When he realized he couldn’t keep up the charade, my world crumbled.  I can’t put into words the absolute devastation I felt when he finally confessed to the affair and added insult to injury with the revelation that the mistress was pregnant.  This hurt more deeply than anything—I was supposed to be pregnant!  Me. ME!  But, good Christian girls don’t get divorced, so i pushed through with reconciliation.  I also had a Messiah Complex.  I alone could fix this.  I could make it all okay.  I could help Jose begin to make good and right choices. If I couldn’t help him, who could?  As the weeks and months wore on, I felt God tell me loud and clear:  Let him go.  I will see Him through.  Part of me wants to tell you all the torrid details because it truly does make a good story.  A Lifetime Movie kind of story.  It’s juicy with lots of twists and turns.  But really what you need to know is that I went to Puerto Rico with friends to clear my mind and decide if I was going to file for divorce (I did) and then I went to Spain with a girlfriend 4 months later, not to celebrate our divorces, but to celebrate a new, independent, wonderful life.  

I met Michael a year later. This is our first 'selfie' from back in 2009. He was handsome and generous with his time and affection.  He too worked in television so we had an instant bond.  During our courtship, my mother’s health declined steadily and rather rapidly.  I was driving one and half hours a day to sit with her in the evenings so my dad could go home and rest.  He spent every day at the nursing home with her.  If Michael had a week day off, he’d drive an hour each way and sit with my mom so my dad could run errands, hit the grocery or take a nap.  I remember thinking “if Michael would do this for my MOM, imagine what he’d do for me if I were ever sick”.  My mother died June 16, 2011.  It was a Thursday morning.  She drew her last breath as I held her hand and the hymn “It Is Well With My Soul” played in the background.

Michael and I had a quaint, vintage wedding January of 2012.  It was the best dinner party I’ve been to, really.  He moved from Columbus to Dayton and since we were both in our late 30’s by this point, we knew time was ticking.  So we tried to have a baby.  We had some fertility issues so we needed help.  We found out we were pregnant 4 days after I lost my job.

Rejection is often God’s protection.  And God had a lot more ‘protecting’ in mind than I would have ever known.  Or liked.  Or wanted to experience.  I had devoted 14 years of my career to this TV Station and I was being rewarded with a ‘restructure’.  The kind where your job gets eliminated and replaced with a job that’s EXACTLY like the one you were doing.  That kind.  It wasn’t all bad.  I had wanted out for a long, long time.  It was a toxic environment and was sucking the joy out of me.  Let’s be real.  I had NO joy left.  Luckily (divinely) two weeks prior I interviewed at another television station and was called back for a second interview.  They hired me.  So I got my severance package AND a new job.  Now, I just had to tell my new employer they hired a pregnant lady.

My new employer was gracious and my boss didn’t bat an eye when I told her I was pregnant. Towards the end of my pregnancy, they even threw me a shower.  Our daughter was born at 42 weeks (in other words, two weeks LATE) via C-Section.  While I was thrilled she was healthy and strong, I was crushed that my natural water birth didn’t happen.  The medical intervention was a bit much for me.  Prior to this, I had never even had an IV let alone a surgery.  

Even though Michael liked his work, he interviewed at a local church for a job opening because he was interested in a job that was faith based.  He didn't get the job.  We liked the church though and decided to make it our new church home.  We had been searching because we wanted to find one that was ‘ours’ and not just ‘mine’ since he had to leave his church when he moved. We fell into a wonderful small group and would come to need these friends greatly. 

On our daughter’s first birthday we put an offer on a new house.  I was reluctant to leave our house.  I LOVED that house.  I bought it when I was 24 and it had seen a lot.  It was the house we brought our daughter home to for crying out loud!  But, the neighborhood was not what it once was and 900 square feet suddenly felt cramped with all the baby things.  Turns out our new neighbors were old friends of mine.  While we ran in the same circles, I hadn’t seen them in years and didn’t know they had moved to a new house.  Having wonderful, thoughtful neighbors was going to be great; a far cry from the neighborhood from which we were moving. 

Are you wondering why I’m telling you about all these events?  Some of them monumental and some of them trivial?

I turned 40 in May of 2015 and went to the midwife for my annual exam.  “You’re 40 now.  Time to schedule that mammogram”, she said.  So I did.  I had ceased breast feeding that December and they want you to wait 6 months to get a mammogram after nursing, so I scheduled it for late July; after our vacation.  In mid June, a lump appeared.  

All in all life WAS wonderful.  As I have detailed, my life was full of ups and downs but I always landed on my feet.  It seemed out of my despair God kept giving me new hope.  Each time.  But Cancer?  I just didn’t (and admittedly some days DON’T) see anything new or good coming from THAT.  The very things that gave life to my daughter were now trying to kill me.

“I can accomplish what I need to accomplish with a lumpectomy and radiation.  No need for a mastectomy”, my breast surgeon said.  

“I can go back in and get the cancer left behind.  I don’t think there is any more hiding on the other side of that margin, but let’s go back and get that little bit to make sure”, my breast surgeon said, two weeks after the first surgery.  

“You’ll need a mastectomy”, my breast surgeon said two weeks after the second surgery.  

“Make it two”, I said.  

Gianna trying on my wig

I had 3 surgeries in 6 weeks, resulting in a bilateral (or double) mastectomy.  Turns out each surgery revealed more cancer.  Even the final pathology report from the bilateral mastectomy revealed an additional tumor.  But remember that job I had for 14 years?  I made TV commercials for a local plastic surgeon during that time.  This surgeon was a good mixture of arrogance and compassion, and specialized in breast reconstruction.  He was a Christian and deeply cared for his patients.  I remember thinking, “I hope I never need his kind of skills, but if I do, I’m going to HIM”.  He remembered me and I got right in to see him.  After one particular consultation he even prayed with me.  

That job also led me to Pam.  She’s the wife of a former co-worker.  She sold me that first house I reluctantly left.  She was also a nurse.  Pam quite literally nursed me back to health after the final surgery.  She would drive across town to help me bathe, manage the surgical drains and change my dressings.  She gently spoke life into me when I couldn’t see anything but fear.  She did what I imagine my mother would have done if she were still alive.  

Those new neighbors, Bob and Carmen, stepped in and helped care for our daughter when I was just unable to do it during my chemo treatments.  I had to switch chemo drugs because I suffered a severe allergic reaction.  So I had a ‘bonus’ round of chemo plus the four rounds of a chemo they call The Red Devil.  

Michael continued to work full time and take on the added responsibilities at home.  He went to all my appointments with me (and when you have cancer there are a LOT of appointments), all my surgeries and all my chemo infusions.  He ceased his volunteer activity at church to help focus on me and he endured my frequent emotional break downs.  Did I mention he carries our health insurance?  Without his phenomenal insurance plan, we’d have lost everything we have.  The bill was well over $250,000. 

I completed radiation and I am on year 3 of 5 with my hormone therapy. The oncologist tells me my prognosis is good.  Estrogen was feeding the cancer, so as long as we shut down all the estrogen (hello, menopause) and maintain a healthy weight, diet and exercise, I *should* be good.  I HAVE to be.  I have a daughter to raise.  Do you hear me Lord?

This was perhaps a long winded story.  But I wanted you all to see what I see.  That God often removes from our lives, the very things to which we cling so tightly.  Our relationships.  Our jobs.  Our possessions.  Our health.  We kick and scream and cry and resist these moments, these valleys.  But, If I were still married to my ex-husband, I’m convinced I would not be alive today.  I would not have had the emotional, financial, or physical support needed to survive.  How would I have managed my mother’s death AND cancer at the same time?  My former job would not have allowed me medical leave and the opportunity to return part-time.  Our old neighbor was a woman who would have delighted in our misfortune; not someone who would come alongside us. Had Michael gotten the church job we wouldn’t have had the medical insurance we needed. Today, (hindsight is a gift, right?) I’m okay with these losses.  God removed everything toxic from my life (over a 10 year period, mind you) and REPLACED it all so that I would be in the best possible position to survive.  And thrive. He is the great restorer.