Part One: Girl Parts

[author] [author_image timthumb='on']http://www.periwinklepapillon.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/sara_profile_pic.jpg[/author_image] [author_info]This next series of posts will highlight my journey in deciding to get genetic testing for the BRCA 1 and 2 genes, the breast cancer gene markers. It’s personal in nature and I hope also a little bit educational. If anyone has any questions about the process please don’t hesitate to contact me. I’d be happy to chat with anyone about this.[/author_info] [/author]

When I first found out I was successfully pregnant, I begged my OB to hazard a guess as to the baby’s sex at 15 weeks. This is way earlier than any doctor would normally tell you what you are having because at this point usually not everything is that well defined. But I persisted and the doctor indulged me, after all he had a fifty-fifty shot at being right. So he told me:

“A boy! I’m 60% sure it’s a boy!”  Then he added: “And I’m never wrong.”

Happily I called my family to tell them the good news. We were almost out of the woods after two miscarriages and felt we could now share the long awaited good news. “A baby! A boy!”

Christmas vacation came and went and I dreamily imagined life with our newborn son.

When we got back from Christmas break my next OB appointment came around and it was time to officially know the sex of our baby. Cockily I went in thinking, yeah, go ahead, we already know.  What the doctor said next shocked and shook me to my core.

“That’s definitely…” (pause for effect) “… a LABIA!”

A WHAT?!??

Alex and I both looked at each other. A what?!?

Wait. What?!
Then it clicked. Girl parts.

“Congratulations, you are going to have baby girl!”

I froze.

I was expecting the word “penis.”  Panic swept through me and I immediately withdrew and got quiet.

At dinner I started to cry.  My husband, having no clue what was going through my mind rushed to my side but my face said it all: I was scared. Really, really scared.

Girl parts…

Breasts.

Anna's 3D ultrasound

I’m not saying this was a normal person’s reaction to hearing the news about the sex of a baby you’ve desperately wanted for years but in hindsight I’d like to think it was the protective mother bear in me showing my claws.  Then again, my reaction may not have been totally unreasonable given that my life so far had been riddled with breast and ovarian cancer. My mother had fought endometrial cancer once and breast cancer TWICE and then lost. Her mother had passed away from ovarian cancer at the age of 34.  Personally, I had had my first mammogram at 21 and was aggressively screened every 6 months ever since.  All of my appointments were met with anxious trepidation and waiting for results was sometimes excruciating.  Basically, some days it felt like I was just waiting for my sentence to begin, for the other shoe to drop.

Girl parts brought nothing but trouble I was convinced.

The guilt that washed over me was intense. Here I was bringing another girl into the world that might have to deal with this legacy. Another daughter possibly having to watch her mother deal with a deadly diagnosis or worse deal with the dreaded C herself.  I felt completely helpless, as if I had failed at motherhood before I even got started.

[Note: I should have been equally upset regardless of the sex of our baby as men can get breast cancer too but at the time I did not fully process this fact.]

Through my tears, I whispered to Alex my fears, trying to keep my composure.  He did what he could to reassure me, with his arm around me saying: “everything is going to be ok.” And while comforting and all, this only gave my pregnancy hormones license to let loose and I became an embarrassing sobbing mess, crying: “I’m sorry I’m defective, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not.” He answered.  ”We will deal with it. C’mon, calm down. It’s ok… Be happy!  A little girl!”  And on and on, he tried.

Finally he resorted to sharing some of his own fears: A daughter meant one day: boys, dating, clothing choices…  Jokingly, he vowed to make it his mission to have all mini-skirts banned by the time she would turn 13 and to drive a petition to make burkas the fashion norm.

I laughed.  This is one of his greatest strengths – to balance me. Somehow he managed to calm my anxiety with logic and reason and then when all else fails he’d make me laugh with his wacko sense of humor.

Once again composed, I switched from basket case to problem solver.  I needed action, a plan to calm my fears.  And for the first time, I suggested and seriously considered getting myself tested for the BRCA 1 and 2 genes, the breast and ovarian cancer gene markers.  I needed to know once and for all.

I was going to be this little girl’s Mommy and I wanted to be around.

…to be continued.

Tagged as: BRCA, breast cancer, cancer sucks, genetic testing