Uncategorized – A series of deep breaths

The Birth of Ms K

December 28, 2019Analyn Erin

Over Christmas and Boxing day I was miserable. All I wanted to do was hibernate, and it’s pretty much all I did. I was in so much pain from my pelvic disorder, my prosthetic no longer fit and I was so done.

On the 27th I even made a post of how done with being pregnant I was. Later that day though something shifted, I had a boost of energy, took a shower, did my hair and wanted to go out, even though I had been having cramps and back pain on and off all day. As I was debating wether taking a 5 and 3 yr old to a restaurant was a good idea it hit me that labour may be near. I decided to stay home. After dinner I got in a bath so I could do my best to rest and relax. While in the bath my waves were anywhere from 6-10 minutes apart, but were sporadic in length and intensity. I had already planned a phone call to help mentor someone on breastfeeding and my waves weren’t consistent enough to cancel. I started the call telling her that if I paused I wasn’t ignoring her but in early labour. After an hour I ended the call as I was pausing more and more and had to focus getting through them. I said goodnight to my kids and I went to bed myself hoping to sleep a few hours in case this really was it was it ( I still wasn’t totally convinced). I couldn’t find a good position though, my doula suggested more pillows and more pillows didn’t work. I went downstairs after a couple hours to bounce on the birth ball but all I was was annoyed, I moved back to bed. I couldn’t get comfortable no mater what I did and the I was becoming more and more irritable, all I wanted was some sleep. Finally around midnight I gave up, I knew I was in labour but I wasn’t ready to call my birth team. I decided to distract myself my blowing up the birth pool for my planned home birth. My big pregnant belly and I crawled around the dining room, putting down plastic tarps, blew up the pool and was happy for the distraction.

At 2am, after one last attempt at sleep I knew it wasn’t coming and I was ready to call my team. I called my doula, midwife and photographer. Within an hour they were all there. Just before they got there I did my own cervical exam I knew I was around 4cm but I asked to be checked by my midwife when she got there jut to be sure and yup I was at 4cm. I loved being at home and being able to move as I wanted to. I went from the couch, to the cold floor, to sleeping on the stairs in between waves. I was freezing cold and spent a lot of time being wrapped in a blanket a friend had made for me 18 years before. My doula was a god send, making sure I was sipping on water, getting the tens machine hooked up and making sure the bowl was ready when I threw up. Even with that though, all I wanted was to be in my birth pool I think I asked between each wave, it felt like is was taking forever to fill. I spent this time visualizing waves crashing over me and moving out into the ocean, over and over. The wave would start and I wold picture it coming towards me getting taller and bigger, at its peak it was crash over me before moving back out. I kept telling myself I could do this, and then I switched to telling myself I AM doing this.

Finally I was able to get into the birth pool. Crutches were impossible so we pull one of my kitchen barstools up next to the pool for me to sit and swivel into. I felt so relaxed. My waves spread out and became more manageable. Because things had slowed down a bit my midwife mentioned getting out to pick things up. Instinctively though, I knew that I was where I needed to be (I say that nicely but what I was thinking was, there is no fucking way I’m getting out of this pool.) We did try to have me move positions but I just wanted to be sitting. AT this point I’m told every thought my birth might take longer than expected. To the point that my photographer was about to text her husband to make child care arrangements for her children.

Just before 5:30am a wave came over me and all of a sudden felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I looked at my doula and asked why I was doing this, she knew this was my last baby and said just that “you never have to do this again”. It was what I needed to hear, I just had to do this and then I was done. It wasn’t long after that I let out a moan. That very specific animal noise that let everyone know I was probably in transition. Waves started taking over and coming back to back. It was at this time I went from sitting to wanting to be on my knees leaning against the pool. It was so intense and I felt so overwhelmed that I started saying no. “no, no, no, no” My doula looked at me and said “yes” again she said what I needed to hear. “Yes, yes, yes” I repeated back.Almost immediately it felt like K took an elevator down into my birth canal. Drop. Intensity increased which I didn’t even know was possible. All I could do was swear, scream and go with my body as it took over pushing my baby out. I remember thinking that women were crazy to like pushing because this felt horrible. Once K started crowning my midwife asked if she could rupture my membranes but I didn’t hear her. My doula had to get in my face to make sure I knew what my midwife was asking. My response was that “I don’t care, I just want her the fuck out!”. I felt the ring of fire and then got a small break. My body took control and started pushing the rest of K out, which resulted in a second ring of fire and I remember thinking this was bullshit. It didn’t last long though, my midwife caught her and within seconds she was in my arms and I completely forgot it all.

She was so beautiful and so covered with vernix that I had to wipe some off so she could open her eyes. Emotions took over. I have never felt so powerful. We relaxed in the pool getting to know each other. I birthed her placenta. Her brother and sister came to meet her. The second midwife showed up (everything happened so fast she missed the birth) She was born 17 minutes after that moan and 3 minutes after the fetal ejection reflex took over.

To this day her birth is something I’m incredibly proud of. I knew what I wanted and I put in the work to make it happen. Her birth left me stronger.

Photo Credit : Michelle Cervo Photography

My VBAC story

March 9, 2019Analyn Erin

My pregnancy and birth with E was far and away a different experience than I had had with L. Overall I felt a lot better, my prosthetic leg fit the whole time, and after a lot of thought I decided to go for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean).

Choosing to go for a VBAC meant finding a provider that would support and encourage me. I found a great midwife who reassured me that my body was capable of birthing my baby. The best thing she did for me was to remind me that it was my body and that I had choices. A couple of weeks before Es guess date I hit the the same point that I had with L, I was done. I was uncomfortable, had lots of Braxton hicks, didn’t want to be around anyone and was scared. The biggest difference this time though, was support. I had people telling me that I could do it, encouraging me and bringing me up.

On a Monday afternoon when I was 39 weeks along I picked up L from daycare. As I was putting him in the car seat I had an intense sensation that made me stop. I didn’t give it much thought as it came and went so quickly. That night L and I hung out with some neighbours and had a relaxing night. It wasn’t until I put him to bed that I realized I had been having waves every 45 minutes. I decided to go to bed early and rest while I could just in case things picked up. Sleep didn’t last long and at 1 in the morning I woke up to more waves. I spent a few hours pacing the apartment, taking a bath and trying hard to go back to sleep. At 5am L woke up for the day. By this point the waves were still sporadic but I needed to breathe to get through them. L was an amazing little doula, kissing my head making sure I was ok and even taking an early morning bath with me. It was after the bath that I decided to call someone to help look after L so I could try to nap. My best friend came over and I got some much-needed sleep. It wasn’t until I woke up a few hours later that I realized it had been awhile since I had had any more waves.I figured it had all just been false labour and decided to go about my day as planned. I had an acupuncture appointment that afternoon and asked my brother to drive me just in case things started to pick up again. It’s a good thing I did. The moment I got into my appointment my birth really started. Waves were regular and timeable and yet somehow I made it through the entire hour-long appointment. The receptionist even came in and rubbed my belly as my waves came and oh my goodness did that feel good! Once I got home I told my brother to go and pack an overnight bag in anticipation of having him stay with L. Everything has picked up so fast I was having a hard time dealing, I had to stop what I was doing to focus and was making lots of low noises.

I got home and for some reason didn’t call anyone yet. I still wasn’t sure if this was really it, very quickly I knew this was indeed real and called my midwife. She listened to me have a wave she asked how quickly I could get to the hospital. I called a couple other people, packed our bags and off we went, at exactly the speed limit. Once there I had to keep stopping and making boise while trying to get to maternity. I hated feeling like everyone was watching me. The second we got to my room my midwife was already there waiting for me . She checked me and found out I was 4cm dilated. I really wasn’t handling things well, swearing, screaming and didn’t want any one to touch me at some point during al this I threw my prosthetic leg off. I was being told that I was doing a good job and all I could think of was why were all these people lying to me. I asked for some gas to take the edge off, but I hated it. It made me feel loopy. Plus my instincts were telling me to make noise instead of breathing in which made the gas ineffective. I asked to be checked about an hour later and was at 8cm. At this point I asked for an epidural. The anesthesiologist must have been right out side my door because no sooner had I asked then she came in. As soon as the epi was placed my midwife checked me again. I was at 10cm and my membranes broke in her hand. Unfortunately, because the epidural had just been placed I had to wait to push.

I really wanted to push on my own as I felt the urge to and about 45 minutes later when the epidural wore off that feeling came. I was in control of my body. I was doing it. And I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in a day, in between pushes I kept telling anyone that would listen that I wanted a pizza. All I wanted was hot pizza. Soon her head was past my pubic bone. I got into a squatting position and forgot all about pizza I felt E crowning, the intense ring of fire and then got a small break. Her little body came out soon after. I looked down at my beautiful baby girl and all I could say was “I did it, I did it”. In that moment I knew I wasn’t a lemon. I knew I could give birth.

The only time she left my arms was to get cleaned up and have her newborn checks. Soon she was right back in my arms where she belonged. I got the birth that I had planned and hoped for for so long.

I never did get my pizza though.

2018 in Review

December 31, 2018December 31, 2018Analyn Erin

I have a friend who does this every year and I love it. I asked her if I could steal her questions. I think what I love most is her honesty, her ability to be real about what the past year has really been like, all the ups and downs.

So now here we go, my 2018 year in review.

1. What did you do in 2018 that you’d never done before?

Had my ovaries removed
Went through surgical menopause
Had breast reconstruction completed
Went to Great Wold Lodge
Drove to Alberta
Connected with other young adults with cancer
Danced my first burlesque show!
Went to Tigh-Na-Mara and did a full spa day
Float plane ride
Embraced my new body and showed it off
Sang Karaoke
Started my blog
Went to the unicorn bar in seattle
Rode in an Uber

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions and will you make more for next year?

I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions. I set different goals for myself throughout the year and I’ll be honest I did try but didn’t do as well with them as I would have liked. I am continuing on with some of my goals and setting new intentions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

None of my friends or family close to me had babies this year however I did start attending births again in September and got to be a part of the birth stories of 3 beautiful babies. Very excited for a special birth that’s coming up and growing my business more. Have some spring babies to look forward to.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes. My friend Sandra passed away this summer and her death has left a permanent mark. I keep thinking I see her randomly and have to tell myself it’s not her.

5. What countries did you visit?

Only the USA – Washington state and Texas

6. What would you like to have in 2019 that you lacked in 2018?

Health and Energy

7. What dates from 2018 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

January 30 – Finished Chemo for the second time in my life

April 19- ovaries removed and the adventures of early menopause

November 10- burlesque show

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting on stage for my burlesque debut. A few months prior I couldn’t even go to a show and watch women who loved their bodies let alone be one of them.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Being on my phone too much.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

2018 was about finishing what I started with my cancer treatments. Every day/month has brought me closer to feeling better.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Anything that created an experience/memory

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

My Kids. As hard as it can be to be a mom, and as much as they challenge me they also are some of the best people I know. We have been stopped more than once this year to have people comment on how great the kids are. They have big hearts and watching how much they love and help those around them makes my heart happy.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

I’ll keep that to myself.

14. Where did most of your money go?

Day to day expenses, family vacations, self care

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Getting rid of my tissue expanders, GWL, Texas Ren Fest, Seattle/Blue Jays trip.

16. What song will always remind you of 2018?

I Put a spell on you- def not a new song, but one that will remind me of this year.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? happier ii. thinner or fatter? thinner iii. richer or poorer? the same

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Played outside

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Screen time

20. How did you spend Christmas?

With my kids my love , my brother and sister and her boyfriend. Opened presents, played and napped.

21. Did you fall in love in 2018?

Over and Over again

22. How many one-night stands?

Zero

23. What was your favourite TV program?

Survivor, Scandal, RuPauls Drag Race, Outlander

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

25. What was the best book you read?

I don’t think I actually read a whole book this year and that makes me really sad because it’s def a first. My brain fog has been bad and I will pick up books read a bit and can’t focus. Something I hope to change this year.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Can’t think of anyone

27. What did you want and get?

Time away with my love and time away with my kids

28. What did you want and not get?

a better co-parenting relationship

29. What was your favourite film of this year?

Small town living and being a busy mom means I didn’t go to the movies this year. I did really like Dumplin on Netflix. Man I need to get out more.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I was at a birth! I had been there since the day before and made a joke that I was going to have a birthday buddy. Pulled an all nighter and baby boy came earthside in the afternoon. I came home just in time for dinner and mug cake with my family, took a bath and fell into my bed. Was def a birthday to remember!

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Stressing less. Recognizing that there are just something not worth my time and energy.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2018?

Comfortable Leggings and converse.

33. What kept you sane?

My children (although they helped make me insane so…..) my love, snuggles on the couch, the women who have ket me soul my heart out to them, my small getaways.

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

None that I can think of

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

Too many to count.

36. Who did you miss?

My New York Family, my mom.

37. Who was the best new person you met?

All my YACC (Young Adult Cancer Canada) people.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2018.

So many lessons. Be more mindful. Embrace the moments. Be more gentle with everyone, myself included.

Kendal Blacker Photography

A night of Burlesque

November 20, 2018November 20, 2018Analyn Erin

I’ve been to a few burlesque shows. I have loved the glitz, glamour and art of seduction. I’ve always sat in the audience happy with my view from my seat.

Something happened last year though. A shift. A friend asked me to come to the local burlesque show with her. I was still recovering from my double mastectomy and about to start chemo and honestly I was on the fence because I didn’t know how I would feel. The night came and I just wasn’t ready to be out and about. I didn’t want to have people tell me I looked good or ask how my surgery had gone (I live in a small town, going out means being ready to see a lot of people you know)

A few months later my best friend asked me if I wanted to go see Dita Von Teese with her. You can read about that here. It’s what led me from being unable to even go to a show to being on stage a couple weeks ago.

As I practised my solo (honestly who the fuck does a solo their first time doing burlesque) I was so nervous. So many thought went through my head. “Why am I doing this. What if I mess up? What if I throw up” The first time I did my routine in front of all the other dances my heart was beating so loud I couldn’t hear the music. My timing was WAY off, I messed up, but I heard our leader say “keep going!” so I did, I kept going and it was ok. The world didn’t collapse and no one told me I was horrible. I came home that night and practiced over and over. I listened to my song on repeat. The next time we had rehearsal I was better, and the next time after that even better. With each practice my confidence grew, my heart was beating less. I could actually hear the music.

One night after I had practiced in front of my partner he has asked me why I was doing this. My first response was that I’m doing it for other women. That I wanted women in the audience to go “if she can love her body with one leg and reconstructed breast than I can love my body too” Since then I’ve thought a lot about why I’ve entered this world of burlesque and here are my so many reasons why.

I do it because I don’t just want to find beauty in normal, I want to find beauty in all bodies period.

I do it because I’m told over and over again that disabled people are less worthy and I’m tired of it.

I do it as a fuck you to all the men who told me they would date me “if only you had 2 legs” and anyone else who has shown my pity because I only have one leg.

I do it because I love my body.

I do it because I love to dance.

I do it because I needed to take ownership of that this new body is in fact mine and mine alone.

I do it because I LOVE seeing people with disabilities challenging peoples perceptions of what we can and can not do.

I got on stage and I was addicted. The music, the lights, the audience. I went into another world. I got off stage after and it was all I could do not to burst into tears from the rush of emotions. I did it and trust me I’ll do it again.

Introducing…..Ms Eileen Wright 😉

All photos credited to Kendal Blacker Birth and Photography. Please do not edit or alter in anyway.

Becoming a mom after becoming a survivor

November 14, 2018Analyn Erin

Happy Birthing day today me.

8 years ago today I became a mom. I gave birth to my beautiful son, I heard him cry before I saw his face and I remember trying to etch that sound in my brain. I remember thinking I ever want to forget this sound. They placed him in my arms and life has never quite been the same.

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I would like to say I can’t remember the struggle that my journey to motherhood was, but I can actually take myself back to that place very easily. When I was diagnosed at 14 with bone cancer no one stopped to ask the effects the Chemo, meds, scans, x-rays would have on my reproductive system, especially as I had just gone through puberty. Of course no on asked, we were so focused on just getting me through cancer. We focused on the now, with my future so uncertain the priority was making sure I even had a future. It wasn’t until the dust settled, that I was in remission that I started talking to other childhood cancer survivors. It was then that I found out that some had taken steps regarding their fertility. I always knew I had wanted to be a mom and the realization that it might look different for me took some time to process.

Once I hit my early 20’s I started researching more. I asked more questions at my follow up appointments. What I was told over and over was that while no one could say for sure what the side effects the chemo had, that I was at risk for earlier menopause and if I wanted babies it would be a good idea to start before I was in my 30’s, that when I did start trying to only try for 6 months before seeking fertility help rather than a year. I never imagined myself as someones wife, but I could always imagine myself as someone’s mom. So there I was, single, working, living on my own and saving up. I made a plan. I was going to save all that I could so that if I wasn’t with someone I had a future with at 28 I would become a single mom by choice. I was going to make motherhood happen for me.

A few years later I met the father of my children. I was up front and honest with him. That whether I could have kids at all was a big unknown, but no matter what I was going to be a mother. After we got married, once we were ready to start trying I lost myself. I read books and learned how to chart my cycles. I got up the same time every day and took my temperature. I analyzed and over overanalyzed every possible sign that I might be pregnant. When my cycle weren’t regular I started seeing an acupuncturist. Every month I sat and cried. Every negative pregnancy test I tried my best to hold it together. I got closer and closer to the 6 month timeframe my Doctors had given me. Finally the time had come to go to that fertility appointment. Before it happened I woke up one morning and instead of my period I saw 2 pink lines. I couldn’t believe it and promptly took a digital. the magic word popped up “Pregnant.” It was December and all I could think was this was the best Christmas Present ever. I bought a sleeper and an ornament for expectant parents. I envisioned what it would be like to be pregnant in the spring and have a summer baby. It’s amazing how quick a dream can form and seem like reality. I spent a couple weeks in a state of total bliss, until I woke up one morning to cramps and blood, Too much blood. I called in sick to work and went straight to my Dr’s office. Bloodwork was done and I went home to wait. My best friend came over to keep me company, we watch TV, played games and she hugged me when I got the phone call that crumbled me. I spent Christmas Eve that year having my empty uterus looked to make sure every thing had been cleaned out. I grieved for longer than I had even been pregnant for. Finally I started making plans, I made a list of all the things I wanted to do before having a baby. I was going to live my life and see what happened next. What happened was 2 weeks before my trip to Vegas I found I was pregnant. I asked for bloodwork to ensure my hormones levels were normal and rising (they were) I was actually happy to get my firs bout of morning sickness. I loved every single milestone and was so happy to be the cranky pregnant lady. My pregnancy wasn’t an easy one, no one really knew how things would go with my leg. I started having bad back and pelvic pain fairly early on and at 32 weeks my prosthetic didn’t fit. If I had known how hard my pregnancy would be I still would have done it, over and over (and I did do it 2 more times!). I always say I didn’t fight so hard for my life to not truly live it. Becoming a mom is hands down the most wonderful thing I have done with my life.

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Goodbye Cancer,

November 7, 2018Analyn Erin

On November 4th I “should” have celebrated 19 years cancer free. 19 years ago I had a lobectomy to remove the small tumours that had metastasized to my lung from my leg. Every year since that surgery I have celebrated. Some years it’s been quiet celebrations other years it’s been big and loud. A couple years ago I even told a friend to be ready for year 20 cancer free because I was going to plan something epic. That’s the thing when you’ve been cancer free for so long, you forget that it could always come back. You start taking the years for granted. I mean talking about a party 2 years away didn’t feel like I was jinxing anything of tempting fate.

Instead of celebrating, I’m still struggling with the fact that a few days ago I had another “should” On Nov 2nd the expectations was that I should be celebrating 1 year cancer free really big and really loud. That I should just be shout from the rooftops that I’m grateful I’m alive. And don’t get me wrong I Am. I am SO fucking grateful. I am grateful every single day, even though it may be quieter than people expect.. Every single time I get to sleep in my own bed, every single time I get to snuggle my little people, every single time I wake up and feel good enough to get up and make myself coffee, and make lunches, and yell at my children to get dressed. I am grateful trust me. I am also a person. I am a person that gets sad, a person that grieves. I will never force a smile on my face because society tells me I have to be happy on this particular day. I will never shove down feelings because it makes someone else more comfortable.

I don’t want to celebrate the loss of my breast. I don’t want to celebrate the loss of my breastfeeding relationship with my youngest. I don’t want to celebrate wearing bras 24/7 because of my reconstruction or the fact that I can’t feel my breast. I don’t want to celebrate how much I cringe every time some one hugs me tight because I can feel how hard and unmovable my reconstructed breast are. I don’t want to celebrate starting over. I don’t want to celebrate what cancer took from me and my family.

There may come a day where I do for dinner and celebrate. There may come a day where I throw big parties. Right now though it’s too soon. I’m still recovering, I’m still scared every single time something doesn’t feel right in my body. I still hold my breath at every appointment and come home emotionally drained. The first 5 years my chances for reocurrance are high and I’ll be honest doing something big feels like a challenge to cancer. It feels like I AM testing fate or jinxing things when I celebrate being cancer free.

The things is when you’ve had cancer 3 times in 20 years you lose the optimism. You lose the “Im going to beat cancer” attitude. Not because we’ve given up, because trust me I haven’t. But because the perspective goes from one of optimism to realism. We know too much, we’ve seen too much. I know that I can never smoke a day in my life, I can limit my alcohol intake, eat healthy, exercise and do all the right things. Heck one of the many reasons I wanted to breastfeed so bad was because it lowers the risk of breast cancer. Well 3 babies and 7 years of lactation didn’t help me so much. I’ll be honest when I was first diagnosed I was angry about that. I was angry that I worked so hard doing things to lower my risk and I STILL got cancer again. Here’s the thing while I’m sure doing certain things can help, but at the end of the day cancer doesn’t give a shit. Cancer didn’t care that I already had childhood cancer. It didn’t care that I have 3 small children, it didn’t care that I was in the happiest time of my life.

So just like I don’t need Valentines day to show my partner how much I love him and how much he means to me. I don’t need a day to show my gratitude that I am right now cancer free. I show it every day. Every time I hug my kids extra tight, every time I giggle when I brush my hair, every time I do something that pushed me out of my comfort zone because fuck it you only live once. Every single day that I open my eyes, I am celebrating being cancer free.

October is over and thank goodness for that!

November 1, 2018November 1, 2018Analyn Erin

It’s no longer October!! Thank fucking goodness.

October used to be my favourite month of the year. All in one month there are my 2 most favourite holidays (thanksgiving and Halloween) and my birthday! There is something to celebrate almost every weekend.

This year I’ll admit was it was hard. In between the fun and celebrations, in the moments of every day living I was constantly assaulted with the pain of my trauma. There was pink fucking everywhere. I tried to escape for a weekend and went on a trip with my partner. I got on the plane only to be served drinks on napkins with pink ribbons, to walk in an airport COVERED in banners of pink ribbons. I tried hard not to jump to conclusions and every time I saw something else promoting pink and support of breast cancer I would research. How are they helping? How are they bringing awareness. Not ONE product made reference to self exams or mammograms and a large majority supported charities where less than 10% actually goes to research. Each time I checked and each time I realized how much money companies make off this disease my heart dropped.

I found myself taking a lot of deep breaths. This month I got angry, and I got sad. My family was affected because I was affected. I lost my patience more and I struggled HARD. I struggled so hard to take care of myself and I feel like I failed over and over, I would work through one trigger only to go out in the world and have my face shoved into the next.

Can you imagine going through a trauma and having that trauma shoved in your face for one whole month. Where you can’t even go to the grocery store for bananas without seeing a sticker that represents your trauma. Or go to the bathroom without seeing how yet anther company PROFITS from your trauma. Can you imagine the anxiety, triggers and PTSD you would have to deal with because in “support” of you people are actually causing MORE harm.

Knowing people profit off a disease that kills thousands of women a year makes me sick. Knowing that people are willing to put countless women through the experience of relieving their trauma so they can feel good makes me want to cry.

For the first time I in my life I’m happy to be saying good bye to October. I’m happy that this month I will take less deep breaths and that I will feel more present for myself and my children. Because breast cancer awareness should be about helping women with this shitty disease, not harming them more.

Body Positive??

October 18, 2018October 18, 2018Analyn Erin

I used to walk around my house naked. blinds up, windows open. I didn’t care. When other were busy covering up I was letting it all hang out.

I don’t do that anymore. Ever since my last surgery I have to be in a sports bra almost 24/7 for the next few months. It’s been an adjustment. Going from someone that takes my bra off the second I can, finding them the next day under the couch and in the corner of the living room to always having it on my body. Being naked so much meant I often caught glimpses of my nakedness in the mirrors or reflection of widows. It means I had an intimate knowledge of my body and what it looked like and how it moved.

Breast cancer and my surgeries have taken the once intimate knowledge I held. The other day I was in my closet where the only full length mirror in my house exits and I got naked and I looked. I turned, I made myself look at each part of my body individually and then pulled back and looked at it as a whole. I don’t know why but it felt so important to look at myself and really see. It no longer felt like mine, and I so badly need it to feel like mine. It’s taken me months to really look at how my new breast have settled. To really see the dimples in my implants. To look at the new stretch marks created by steroids from chemo.

A few months ago I went to a Dita Von Teese show. My best friend and I bought tickets months before and it ended up that the show was a mere 2 weeks after my exchange surgery to swap my tissue expanders to implants. I sat there loving all the beautiful and natural bodies, but there was a part of me chocking back silent tears. This was a celebration of the various body types, all the ways to show that normal bodies are beautiful bodies. It’s an important message for sure, but it’s one I feel very left out of.

I looked down at my fake breast stuffed in my corset, seeing every simple hardness and imperfection. I sat there watching and wondering where the scars were. Where the disabilities were. Where the mastectomy breast were. My body is not in the range of “normal.” While every one is shouting the beauty of stretch marks and cellulite (which lets be honest we ALL have) I wanted to know where were the voices shouting the beauty of disability? The beauty in sheer survival etched in skin. Where were the breast that didn’t bounce because that beautiful softness had been forcefully replaces with hardened implants. Where were the women who can’t dance so gracefully because they are in wheelchairs or amputees? If something happened to anyone of these women in the same way it had happened to me, if parts of them had been slowly cut off and replaced by artificialness would they still be happily shouting about loving their bodies?

It opened my eyes once again, that if I want to see the beauty in these things I have to be the one to put it out there.

I have been asked to be in the local burlesque show coming up. I said yes almost immediately and felt that maybe it would be healing for me because it’s so close to the one year anniversary of my double mastectomy . Today though as I was driving and thinking about it, I burst into tears. Going up on that stage is me reclaiming my body as my own. It’s saying fuck normal. It’s saying there are many ways to be confident and secure and beautiful. Hopefully soon it will get me back to walking around naked, blind open, windows open for all to see.

Breastfeeding to breast cancer.

October 8, 2018October 8, 2018Analyn Erin

I wrote these words only a few weeks before I knew. Before I knew that my intense nursing aversion was because of the cancer growing in my breast. Before I knew was that the same vessels that were nourishing her life were growing a tumour that wanted to take me.

I had so many thoughts and dreams of how our breastfeeding relationship was going to go. She was going to be my one child that would get to self-wean. She was going to set the time and pace that she was ready for. I was already struggling so hard with thoughts of weaning her, so conflicted. Having the choice made for me was just one more way I felt so out of control. I stopped nursing the second I found out. I put cabbage leaves in my bra, I drank cold medication all in attempt to dry my milk. My milk had to be gone in time for my double mastectomy. She cried a lot, if distracting her didn’t work with a gentle weaning process is definitely wasn’t going to work in a cold turkey weaning process. My surgeon told me when they cut my breast open milk poured out, they wondered if I had actually tried to dry up my milk at all. They had no idea the agony I has gone through. It’s a year later. She still talks about momma milk. She still mentions that it’s all gone. Until recently she even still put her mouth when my nipples used to be. Each time it breaks my heart.

Nursing in the Radiology Room

Last nursing session, taken 1 hour before I got the call.

Breathe in and out, breathe in and out, snuggle, kiss, grimace, distract myself, kisses, breath, relax, relax, get off, get off, get off.

These are my thoughts in my final days of breastfeeding my final baby. My day is a constant struggle of holding onto this time. Of trying to push myself through just one more day, one more nursing session, and at the same time wanting so badly to be done.

As this chapter is coming to a close I’m having some very real reactions to it. I am processing, I am celebrating, I am grieving. When this last baby takes her last drink of milk there will be no one to take her place. This feeling has come as a surprise for me. I felt complete the moment I saw two pink lines with her. I’ve watched her go through milestones and have jokingly said that I don’t want her to grow up, while also happy to see what’s next. This milestone, this end has brought me to tears more than I expected. Maybe it’s because this is so far from how I imagined the end of my breastfeeding journey, so far sooner.

My goal was to nurse her until 2 and beyond, my goal was to let her self wean. It wasn’t even a goal so much as something that I was just going to do, I mean I have nursed two children before. I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that I won’t reach either goal. Her latch is terrible, she moves constantly as most toddlers do and accidentally bites me almost daily. She grabs at my top and screams in my face for “mine boobies”, she twiddles my nipples and demands, demands, demands and I simply can’t do it anymore. I’ve tried to wean her as gently as possible, slowly reducing how often and how much, singing songs to signal the end. Giving more snuggles. Still she is having a hard time with this and it breaks my heart. Distracting her is hit and miss. Her screams are more intense, her grabbing more insistent and her biting intentional each time I tell her no, each time I say “all done boobies.” It makes me wonder if I am making the right decision, and then she nurses and I feel anxious, I’m doing all I can not to push her off and I remember this has to work for me to. The truth is it’s not.

My body has been shared with another person for 90 months. For approximatly 2,750 days I have either been pregnant or breastfeeding with no breaks. I have had the joys of knowing my children from the inside, of feeling their kicks and tumbles, I have watched my belly jump in awe. My body has brought them earthside, where they have snuggled in and suckled at my breast. They have been nursed to sleep. They have been breastfeed through growth spurts, colds and scraped knees. My body has been a place where three children have been nourished and comforted. What will it be now?

I’m trying to find the silver lining to this end. To see my new beginning. Of not having to plan outfits around access to my breasts, of being able to go out of town and not pack my pump, of my first week long kid free vacation, of having some freedom. I’m moving into a new phase of motherhood and I’m embracing it as best as I know how, with some tears, apprehension and the possibility of what’s next.

One of our first nursing sessions.

…you will grieve forever.

July 16, 2018July 18, 2018Analyn Erin

Last year my son had been asking me for a playdate with one of his classmates over and over. My answer every time was ” I need to meet his mom first.” In the spring last year I finally met Sandra on the playground each of us picking up our boys from school.

I remember the sun was out and she was wearing a beautiful scarf. I can’t remember how we started our conversation but it flowed so easily. Within minutes she had disclosed to me she had been diagnosed with cervical cancer not to long ago and was in the process of separating from her husband. She said she wasn’t sure why she was telling a total stranger this as she was a private person but she felt like she could. I then told her about my own similarities to her. How my own divorce was very fresh and that I too had dealt with cancer (albeit a different kind and a long time ago) We hugged, exchanged numbers. I told her to call me, that she could call me to talk or vent or get her mind off things.

A few days later my phone rang and I was pleasantly surprised to see it was Sandra. She said she had been in a funk, wasn’t dealing with her diagnoses well and was taking me up on doing something fun. To know that she felt like she could reach out to me meant a lot. It wasn’t long after, that her and her son were over for a playdate, dinner and a campfire. We sat around like normal parents and just talked while the kids ran around. As she was about to leave I felt a huge urge to give her something I hold dear to me, my trust rock. This is a rock that was beautifully painted for me by a friend when I was pregnant with my last child. It’s like something inside me was yelling that she needed it more than I did. We hugged and cried as I gave this women I barely knew something I cherish and I told her to trust herself.

I wish I could say this forged a tight immediate friendship. What happened though was life. I was busy, she was busy. School ended, summer started and she started treatment. For some reason something held me back from really reaching out more even though she crossed my mind a lot. Maybe it was my own fear. In her I saw my worst nightmare come true. Cancer at 14 is not the same as cancer as a mother with young kids. School started again and I was excited to see her, talk to her and hug her. The day after her last treatment is when I got the news of my own new cancer diagnosis. I knew I should tell her and I simply didn’t know how. They say news travels fast, in a small town news travels even faster. Soon on the same playground, at the same spot we met, picking up our kids from school she came up to me and hugged me, she had heard. We held each other and cried, I hated that we both understood each other so well.

As I went through surgeries and chemo, Sandras name would pop up on my text messages just when I needed it most. ” thinking of you”……”sending you pure love”. She even came over with dinner for my family one night. The fact that she could think of me and do for me so soon after her own cancer journey blew me away. I didn’t feel worthy of her goodness and selflessness.

This past spring I discovered both our boys were on the same baseball team. I knew I was going to do better and get to know this wonderful woman. Sitting on one of the baseball bleachers early in the season she told me that a couple months before the Drs let her know treatment hadn’t worked, her cancer had spread and there wasn’t anything they could do. While I heard her words and I knew they were true I don’t think I really believed them. She still looked so healthy, so full of life, so vibrant. We sat next to each other almost every Monday and Wednesday night this baseball season. She sang silly songs to my girls and they sat on her lap. I got to know more about her on those baseball nights, and I looked forward to them. She understood me in a way very few people did. We both knew the struggle of being moms with cancer. We could both say how done we were with everyone wanting us to be positive when sometimes all we wanted was to cry or scream. How sometimes all we wanted was to be “normal” She would sit in my car and we would just say things you can only say to someone else with cancer.

On a Saturday not to long ago I was standing in my kitchen when my partner came down holding my phone. ” Sandras messaged you like 5 times, you need to see what she needs.” I opened my phone and the wind was knocked out of me. Her cancer had spread again, this time extensively to her brain. I sobbed, caught my breath and sobbed some more. The next days were intense, processing, grieving, crying, screaming and planning her end of life. I was consumed with helping her and loving her. Not even 2 weeks later she was in the hospital, as I packed for my vacation I got a text from one of our mutual friends, ” you need to go visit her before you go.” I called her, I wanted honesty…..”am I going to say goodbye?”

I went up and spent 2 hours with Sandra. I rubbed her legs, gave her water and talked to other women who were visiting and loved her. She slept almost the whole time. When I had to go I asked for some time alone. I put down the bedrail and crawled in next to her. I stroked her hair and told her how beautiful she was, how loved she was and that we would all help look out for her kids. I sent all my love into her and then I walked out the door. 4 days later I got the call, she was gone. She had gone peacefully.

Her death has left my heart both heavier and lighter. This pure and beautiful women is finally free of the pain she had been in, she wasn’t alone, she left this world in the most loving way possible and I think that’s something that brings all of us comfort. We will all miss her though. We will all wish that she was the one watching her children grow up. We all wish we had selfishly gotten more time. We will all grieve for her forever.