Pregnancy After Breast Cancer

Treatment and Moving Forward

Cancer treatment surely presents challenges, but the aftermath has its own set of hurdles. As my body began to heal, I set about getting my life back to normal and a year later had a picture-perfect wedding. Had I not been sick the year before, we may have had an old-fashioned honeymoon and tried to get pregnant. But breast cancer can wreak havoc on your reproductive plans.

Standard protocol is to wait two years after treatment before getting pregnant. The highly toxic drugs have to leave the system, and the breast needs to restore after surgery and radiation. However, the true risk in getting pregnant too early is recurrence. Mammograms and treatment aren't possible while pregnant. I could be putting my own life on the line by having a baby.

The Worries

Our baby dreams quickly became overshadowed by uncertainties. Would chemotherapy bring on early menopause? Would the life-saving drugs do irreversible damage to my body or my eggs? Would waiting decrease chances for success as I passed the age of 30?

I had another worry about getting pregnant after cancer: passing it on. My grandmother died from the disease in her 60s; my mother was in her 40s when she survived it. As much as I want to have a child, and as much as I want a daughter, how can I willingly create a being that has a greater-than-normal chance of contracting a devastating disease?

Two years later, very few of these questions got answered. The only thing I knew was I wanted a child, and perhaps the best way to discover what treatment had done to me was to attempt to conceive. I had a string of exams and appointments so that each doctor could give me the go-ahead. Every one gave me the same response: "Take your prenatal vitamins, have lots of sex, and stay in touch so we can keep a close watch on you."

We're Pregnant!

I took a positive home pregnancy test in February. After confirming the pregnancy with my OB-GYN, I canceled my mammogram and saw my oncologist. She heartily congratulated me, checked my breasts, and encouraged me to keep up a regular self-check routine since X-rays would be forbidden. Since I had found the cancer myself, I knew I would be able to handle the monthly procedure, swollen breasts or not.

I got rather cocky, actually, about all I could handle, considering what I had already been through. While I recognize that labor cannot be compared to just any old cramp, I have a new understanding of my pain threshold after chemotherapy. And although I watched my sister-in-law vomit throughout her second pregnancy, I believed no morning sickness would equal the chemo sickness I experienced, plus I had an arsenal ready to combat it. I knew that lime Popsicles were best, that a fistful of Honeycomb cereal can settle an empty stomach, and that Pep-o-Mint LifeSavers are from heaven. I was so confident I actually used the phrase "Bring it on," which is exactly what happened.

I had eight weeks of all-day, no-vomiting "progesterone poisoning" sickness. To add insult to injury, the only thing that still worked was LifeSavers. I was humbled.