Two years ago, God made a way. Two years ago, in September 2023, we saw two pink lines that changed everything. After chemo. After radiation. After surgeries. After oral chemo. After countless tears, sleepless nights, and prayers whispered through both hope and fear… We found out we were pregnant with our miracle baby. But I'm getting ahead of myself - let's take it back to the beginning, of this story at least. Your Body Is A Battlefield When you walk through cancer, your body becomes a battlefield. Treatments are designed to save you, but they also strip away so much - your energy, your confidence, sometimes your hope. And for me, the question that hung in my heart as soon as I heard "it's cancer" and long after the last treatment ended was: Would my body ever be able to carry new life again? Our daughter was 16 months old when I was diagnosed, and at the time, we were just starting to entertain the idea of adding to our family in the summer of 2021. My husband and I consider ourselves blessed to both come from large families, with multiple siblings on either side. Childhood to us meant spending time with our siblings swimming under the summer skies, jumping into piles of dried leaves in the fall, and wonderfully chaotic Christmases having to wait our turn as we opened gifts in sequential order around the crowded living room. It was all family, all the time and we had been dreaming of that kind of wild and full life for our little family. Brothers and sisters are many things - your first tormenters, your fierce protectors, but most importantly we believe they're our built-in best friends, and we wanted that for our daughter more than anything. With that dream in mind, we made the difficult decision at the beginning of my diagnosis to delay treatment slightly in the pursuit of emergency IVF. But even with that Plan B on ice (literally), the hope to grow our family still felt impossible at times. After completing treatment, I began having conversations with my doctors about the possibility of pregnancy after cancer. We discussed the risks and I knew the beating my body had already taken, but my oncologist was always positive and encouraging. He would reference research studies that said women who conceived after cancer showed a reduced risk of recurrence - full disclosure, I could never find those studies when I'd search for them on my own, but I trusted his judgement. He expressed that I should wait 1-year after completing all forms of active treatment before trying to conceive - so with that timeline in mind, we patiently waited as my body and mind set to work healing what had been broken and preparing for what might be. I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid that pregnancy might actually mean the cancer would come back. It was impossible to not draw the correlation between how soon after my 1st child was born and when the cancer was found in my body. I first felt the lump in my right breast when she was only 15 months old. I don't know what caused my cancer and I never will, but logical or not - that fear existed in my mind and I knew I'd have to actively work to move past that if I was serious about trying to carry another baby. A Year Goes By So Fast A year came and went pretty quickly and was filled with so much life! We traveled, we celebrated, we processed, we mourned. I went to therapy. We celebrated our daughter turning 3! I started a new job. We did our best to settle into what our "new normal" looked like "after cancer." That said, I'll make the disclaimer in the interest of keeping it real for you all - there really is no "after cancer." You carry it with you wherever you go. It colors the way you see yourself and the world around you. It's always hard, always exhausting, always difficult. But I'm finding that, as with active treatment, it's a cumulative process. With every year I lug it around in my heart, my body gets a bit stronger, it gets a bit further from the top of my mind. But to my cancer survivor friends and families - just because we carry it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy. Give yourself grace. Alright - back to our regularly scheduled programming. So, August 2023 marked 1-year and 1-month since my last day of oral chemo. And in that time, I was lucky enough to see my body's reproductive cycles return and normalize. I had been successfully tracking my cycles and identifying ovulation windows - which I found amazing because prior to my cancer diagnosis and treatment that hadn't been the case. I had irregular periods and it ultimately took 2-years of trying and a round of Clomid to become pregnant with our 1st child. I always tell people - I don't recommend chemotherapy if it can be avoided (just in life in general haha). But in this specific circumstance, it did seem to act as a hard reset switch on my body, so I took it as a silver lining around an otherwise completely horrible experience. With that past experience in mind, our expectations were set pretty low and my husband and I entered into this season of life with hope and optimism in our hearts and the thought of our "Plan B on ice" in the back of our minds. Even Now... That September morning when I watched those two pink lines appear, it didn't feel real. I really didn't think I was pregnant. I just wanted to take a test because we were about to travel to visit friends for a week and I figured I should check to be safe. I hadn't even warned my husband that I was taking a test. There was no pomp, no circumstance. And when the 2nd test read "pregnant" across the digital screen (always got to double-check) shock and excitement spread across my body like a wave washing over me. I ran to the top of the stairs and hollered down, "BAAAABE, I need youuuuuu!!!!" He came to the foot of the stairs, taking his sweet time in his oblivion to the situation, and when he looked up at me standing there holding a pregnancy test his face flashed back and forth between a smile and just jaw-on-the-ground disbelief. I remember hearing God in my heart so clearly saying: "Even now, after everything your body has been through. Even here, in a place of disbelief and doubt. Even after everything telling you this shouldn't be possible, I can and I did. And if it is My Will, I will always make a way." I stepped into this 2nd pregnancy completely in awe of my God's power - yet painfully aware of how small I had made Him in my mind, reducing his greatness to what felt humanly possible within the logical confines of this world. Even here. Even now. Even after... God had a different story in mind and He gave us a gift beyond anything we could have imagined. A Story of Hope Pregnancy after cancer wasn’t without fear. Every appointment, every new symptom carried the weight of anxiety. I held my breath more often than I’d like to admit, waiting for reassurance that everything was okay. But alongside the fear was joy. Pure, overwhelming joy. Every tiny milestone - the first ultrasound, the first flutter of movement, the sound of that steady heartbeat - was a reminder of resilience. My body, once so weary from fighting, was now creating life. And my heart, once so heavy with worry, was now overflowing with gratitude. This journey taught me that strength is not about never feeling weak. Strength is about choosing to keep moving forward, even as fear whispers relentlessly in your ear. I've learned that my body and my faith can hold more than I ever thought possible. I share this not because our story is perfect, I think you'd all agree that it's not what I would have chosen for myself or my husband to have to walk through. But I really feel like it's a reminder that our God can take what feels broken, what may seem shattered beyond repair, and turn it into something beautiful once more. Looking Back, Looking Forward Our daughter (yes, our 2nd baby turned out to be another beautiful baby girl) - she is our living reminder that God's redemptive goodness is greater than what our human hearts and minds can possibly comprehend. As I reflect on that September morning, I’m struck by how far we’ve come. From the lowest lows of chemo treatments to the highest highs of holding our healthy baby girl, pregnancy after breast cancer - the journey has been nothing short of transformative. Today, I hold a little hand that reminds me daily: miracles are real. Hope is worth holding on to. And no matter how impossible things may seem, God is always making a way.

I cried on the drive to my first radiation appointment. Not because I’d heard horror stories (yes, I had). Not because I was bracing for pain or burns or anything specific (my Dr. had warned me that those were common side effects). I think I mostly cried because I was afraid - I was entering another unknown realm - I didn’t know what to expect or if this next thing on the treatment checklist would work and secure me that long and healthy life I was chasing and so desperately praying for. After chemo, I had assumed the worst was behind me. But as I pulled into the cancer center that morning — December 22, 2021 — I was hit with the reality that my journey wasn’t over yet. There was still more to do. Still more healing ahead. My friend Sarah had made me a paper chain to count down the treatments, each one with a word of encouragement or scripture to keep me going when it felt hard to show up. I would unhook a link in the chain each morning with excitement to have one more day behind me and what I hoped was a whole lifetime ahead. Radiation, I quickly learned, was a different kind of battle. It wasn’t loud like chemo. There were no infusion chairs or IV bags, no "Red Devil" to face. It was quiet. Rhythmic. Methodical. I would arrive each weekday, check-in, wait my turn in the semi-cozy women's waiting room, and then lie perfectly still as invisible beams of energy passed through my body. Sixteen rounds of external beam radiation therapy (EBRT) across my entire right breast. Then five rounds of accelerated partial breast irradiation (APTI), focused on the place where my tumor had been removed. My view entering the radiation therapy room. Each session only lasted a few minutes, but the process was exhausting. The effects of radiation crept in slowly. I didn’t feel much in the beginning. My skin held up well, something my doctor pointed out with surprise and encouragement every time I saw her. No burns. No peeling. Just a bit of itchiness and discomfort near the end. I was told I was one of the "lucky ones" - which is a completely relative term when it comes to cancer because let's be honest - there ain't nothing lucky about this sh*tty situation. But the fatigue? That was real. By week two, I couldn’t make it through a full day without crashing for a nap in the afternoon. My body was drained. My mind, foggy. The brain fog I had carried out of chemo carried on with a vengeance. I had to fight to stay focused, to stay present, to function. The radiation may have been gentle on my skin, but it was not gentle on my energy. Still, I did my best to keep showing up. I drank more water than I thought humanly possible. I lathered on Miaderm lotion religiously. I listened to my body. I let myself rest. I trusted the process. Originally posted to my Instagram - cataloging my "radiation routine" from the first 5 rounds of therapy. In the waiting room one morning, I sat next to a woman in her 50s who was also going through treatment for triple-negative breast cancer. We struck up a conversation, and as we talked, I learned that she hadn’t needed chemo. Her hair was still intact. Her energy seemed steadier. She spoke with warmth and strength, and I couldn’t help noticing how different her experience looked from mine. And for a moment, I felt a twinge of jealousy. Why did I have to go through chemo, lose my hair, relinquish any sense of normalcy? Why couldn’t my story have looked a little more like hers? But as I sat with that feeling, something in me softened. Her journey wasn’t easier . It was just different. The absence of chemo didn’t mean the absence of struggle. She had her own fears to carry, her own version of uncertainty and grief. I didn’t know the weight she held, just as she didn’t know mine. That moment reminded me that comparison is a thief - especially in the world of healing. It tempts us to measure pain and worth, when the truth is, every story is valid. Every path is shaped by its own kind of hard. God was writing both of our stories, uniquely and with care. And one day, we’d both have our own testimonies to share; not because our experiences looked the same, but because we made it through them. Some days I would pass the time reading the message board posted up in the waiting room. It was filled with scribbles from past and current patients. “Halfway through treatments! Celebrate life!” // “God is good!” // “I’m done! Thank you, God!” Each message reminded me: I wasn’t alone. So many women had walked these hallway before me Sat in these same chairs. Carried the same mix of fear and hope and exhaustion. And sadly, so many would come through this waiting room long after I've completed my treatments. But even knowing that, there was still something holy and beautiful in our shared experiences, something comforting in the quiet sisterhood of survivorship. And then, at last, came January 21, 2022. I walked into the cancer center for my final round of radiation therapy, heart pounding. I completed my treatment, put my clothes back on and headed out into the main entrance. With my mom watching on proudly, my husband standing beside me and as I held my daughter in my arms - all of them a powerful reminder of everything I had been fighting for, I stepped forward and rang the bell. Three times, strong and clear. "Ring this bell three times well, Its toll to clearly say: My treatment’s done, this course is run, And I am on my way!" As we walked out of the cancer center's main entrance I was met with cheers and hot tears rolled down my cheeks in the cold January air. My family and friends were there, smiling and cheering as the sound of bells rang out all around me. They had made a giant banner that simply read: OVERCOMER . And in that moment, I believed it. Not just because I had completed that phase of treatment. Not just because the appointments were over - for now. But because I had endured the slow, quiet work of healing. The emotional weight of the unknown. The fatigue that flattened me. The mental fog that clouded my days. The tedious, invisible labor of recovery. We went out for brunch afterward, surrounded by love, comfort food, and so much gratitude. And over the weeks that followed, my strength began to return. Slowly, my body remembered how to feel like mine again. Radiation may not have been the most dramatic chapter of my cancer story, but it was no less significant. It is the quiet fight. The final stretch. The daily showing up when you’re tired and tender and just so ready to be done. If you’re there now - walking those same hallways, wondering how you’ll make it to the end -please hear me: You are not alone. You are stronger than you feel. You are healing, even on the days when it doesn’t look or feel like it. You are becoming something braver and more beautiful with every step. And when your day comes, when it’s your turn to ring the bell - ring it loud my friend. You are an overcomer . "Ring this bell three times well, Its toll to clearly say: My treatment’s done, this course is run, And I am on my way!"

When I first heard the words "it's breast cancer,"  my world fell off its axis. Like so many others, I assumed breast cancer was just one disease with one treatment path. But what I quickly learned, something I wish more people knew, is that breast cancer isn’t just one thing.  There are many different types and subtypes , each with unique characteristics, behaviors, and treatment approaches. When my doctor told me my specific diagnosis was triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC),  I didn’t have a clue what that meant for me. All I knew was that I had cancer, and I needed to trust my medical team to guide me through the best possible treatment plan. TNBC sounded intimidating, and as I began to learn more, I realized just how different it was from other forms of breast cancer. If you or a loved one has just been diagnosed with TNBC, I want you to know: you’re not alone.  It’s completely normal to feel overwhelmed, confused, and scared. I was there too. But knowledge is power, and understanding your diagnosis can help you navigate this journey with more confidence. Here are five key things to know about TNBC: 1. TNBC Is Different from Other Types of Breast Cancer Most breast cancers are categorized based on the presence of three key receptors: ✅ Estrogen receptors (ER) ✅ Progesterone receptors (PR) ✅ HER2 protein These receptors fuel many breast cancers, and targeted therapies (like hormone-blocking medications or HER2-specific drugs) exist to slow their growth. However, TNBC does not express any of these receptors - hence the name triple-negative . Because of this, TNBC does not respond to hormone therapies like tamoxifen or aromatase inhibitors  that work for ER/PR-positive breast cancers. It also doesn’t respond to HER2-targeted treatments like Herceptin. Instead, TNBC is typically treated with chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, and, in some cases, newer treatments like immunotherapy. This makes TNBC more challenging to treat in some ways, but it also means researchers are actively exploring new, more effective treatment options. *Bonus: The Many Types of Breast Cancer There are many different types and subtypes of breast cancer, and each is treated differently depending on how it behaves and grows. Some of the most common types include: Hormone receptor-positive breast cancer (ER+/PR+)  – Fueled by estrogen and/or progesterone, often treated with hormone therapy. HER2-positive breast cancer  – Characterized by an overexpression of the HER2 protein, which can be targeted with specific drugs. Inflammatory breast cancer (IBC)  – A rare but aggressive form of breast cancer that causes redness and swelling in the breast. Lobular vs. Ductal Breast Cancer  – These classifications describe where the cancer originates within the breast tissue. Metastatic Breast Cancer (Stage IV)  – Cancer that has spread beyond the breast to other parts of the body. Each type has its own treatment approach, and no two breast cancer journeys are the same. If you want to dive deeper into the many variations of breast cancer, check out this helpful guide from the National Breast Cancer Foundation : Types of Breast Cancer . Understanding the specifics of your diagnosis  can help you feel more informed and empowered as you navigate treatment options. 2. Triple Negative Breast Cancer Can Be More Aggressive - But Not Always TNBC tends to grow and spread faster than other types of breast cancer, with a higher likelihood of recurrence  within the first 3 to 5 years after treatment. It is often diagnosed at a later stage and can be more likely to metastasize (spread to other parts of the body). However, not all TNBC cases behave the same way. Some are more aggressive, while others respond very well to chemotherapy and have excellent long-term outcomes. Because TNBC grows quickly, early detection and prompt treatment are crucial . If you’ve recently been diagnosed, working closely with an oncologist who specializes in TNBC can help you navigate the best course of treatment. 3. It Affects Certain Groups More Frequently While TNBC can affect anyone, it is more common in certain groups , including: Younger women  (under 40) African-American women Women with BRCA1 genetic mutations Latina women Women with Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry If you fall into one of these groups, being proactive with regular breast exams and screenings  can help with earlier detection. Those with a family history of breast or ovarian cancer  may want to discuss genetic testing with their doctor to determine if they have a BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation, which could impact both treatment and preventive care decisions. Also, it's unfortunately not standard practice yet, but if you get a mammogram and learn you have "dense breast tissue" you should ask for a follow-up ultrasound or additional image screening. We're learning through a number of studies that dense breast tissue shows up as white areas on a mammogram, similar to how tumors appear, making it hard to identify small or early stage cancers within the dense tissue. 4. Treatment for TNBC Is Evolving Since TNBC doesn’t respond to hormone-based therapies, chemotherapy remains the main treatment option . However, significant advances have been made in recent years, including: Immunotherapy:  Drugs like Keytruda (pembrolizumab) help the immune system recognize and attack cancer cells. Targeted therapies:  Some newer drugs, such as Trodelvy (sacituzumab govitecan), are designed specifically for TNBC. PARP inhibitors:  For patients with BRCA mutations, drugs like Olaparib (Lynparza) and Talazoparib (Talzenna) target cancer cells more precisely. If you or a loved one is diagnosed with TNBC, ask your oncologist about clinical trials  and emerging treatment options. TNBC research is moving forward rapidly , and new treatments are giving patients more hope than ever before. 5. Support & Advocacy Are Key A TNBC diagnosis can feel isolating, but you don’t have to go through it alone. There are support groups, advocacy organizations, and online communities  dedicated to helping women navigate this journey. Some helpful resources include: TNBC Foundation  – Offers information, clinical trial resources, and support networks. Breastcancer.org TNBC Forum  – A place to connect with others facing TNBC. Living Beyond Breast Cancer  – Provides education, support, and community connections. FORCE  – Focuses on hereditary cancer, including BRCA-related TNBC. In addition to seeking medical care, finding a strong support system , whether through family, friends, or fellow survivors, can make a world of difference. There Is Hope A TNBC diagnosis can be frightening, but you are not powerless . Every year, new breakthroughs in research bring us closer to more effective treatments and better outcomes. 💖 Stay informed.  Knowledge is power. The more you understand about TNBC, the more confident you can feel in your treatment decisions. 💖 Advocate for yourself.  You deserve the best care possible—don’t be afraid to ask questions or seek a second opinion. 💖 Lean on your support system.  Whether it’s family, friends, or an online community, you don’t have to go through this alone. If you or a loved one is facing TNBC, I see you. I’m sending you strength, resilience, and unwavering support. Go kick cancer's ASS!

LifeAfterTheLump.com shares Cassie's journey through triple negative breast cancer, offering stories of faith, resilience, and hope. Find inspiration and strength in her testimony of healing and gratitude. Life After the Lump MY JOURNEY THROUGH BREAST CANCER & BEYOND 5 Things to Know About Triple-Negative Breast Cancer 5 things to know about triple negative breast cancer - treatment options, and support. Knowledge is power, understand your diagnosis. Diagnosis 5 min read Tips for Building a Chemo Care Package A chemo care package is a simple yet powerful way to show love. Comfort, hydration, and heartfelt notes can make all the difference. Cancer Support 7 min read Coping with Life After Chemo: A Guide for New Survivors A cancer survivor's guide on coping after chemo, with tips for managing side effects, setting goals, and embracing a new normal. Mental Health 5 min read Facing A Mountain Shaped Like Boobs But as with most of life’s greatest joys, that view was hard won. Gratitude 4 min read 'Tis The Spooky Season Again Man, I wish my biggest fear were the things that go bump in the night. But I am struggling. I don't think I expected to still be... Trauma & Grieving 4 min read The Search For A Surgeon October 4, 2021 Make a plan, and then be ready to change everything. Everyone told me this over and over again about childbirth - and... Surgery 3 min read View More

LifeAfterTheLump.com shares Cassie's journey through triple negative breast cancer, offering stories of faith, resilience, and hope. Find inspiration and strength in her testimony of healing and gratitude. Hi, I'm Cassie At 31, I was diagnosed with triple negative invasive high-grade ductal carcinoma—breast cancer. It was the kind of news that stops you in your tracks. But even in that moment, I knew: this would not be the end of my story. I’m a momma, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend. I wear many titles, but the one that grounds me most is child of God. Cancer doesn’t define me, but it has shaped me. And through this fight, I’ve witnessed miracles, felt grace in the hardest places, and learned what true healing really means. I didn’t choose this battle, but I’ve never walked it alone. God has been with me through every step, every scan, every tear, every triumph. I’ve never been one to keep a journal, but this space became a way to share what we were walking through—with those who were praying, hoping, and carrying us when we couldn’t do it alone. The war against cancer is ongoing, and I’ll carry the scars with me for life. But these pages are about the victories. The battles that were fought, and won. I wouldn’t wish this road on anyone. But I’m grateful for the way it’s changed how I see the world. Every moment, every person, every breath feels like a gift. If something in these words gives you peace, perspective, or even just a flicker of hope, then I believe it’s all worth it. My prayer is that this story, our story, might point you toward the One who brings beauty from ashes. Always, for His glory.

Find essential resources for breast cancer patients and survivors, including support groups, financial aid, wellness tips, and wig options for hair loss. 1/8 1 in 8 women in the United States will develop breast cancer in her lifetime. 15% Approx. only 15% of women diagnosed have a family history of breast cancer. 99% When caught in its earliest, localized stages, the 5-year relative survival rate is 99%. 9% About 9% of all new breast cancer cases in the U.S. are diagnosed in women younger than 45 years old. *2024 Data from the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Find Support: National Breast Cancer Research Foundation No matter where you are in your journey, National Breast Cancer Research Foundation can help. Learn More: Triple Negative Breast Cancer Foundation The TNBC Foundation is a credible source for triple negative breast cancer information, a catalyst for science and patient advocacy and a caring community with meaningful services for patients and their families. Donate Today: Breast Cancer Research Foundation Be the End of Breast Cancer! When you give to BCRF, you're funding critical hours in the lab. More time for research means more progress towards ending breast cancer—and longer, healthier lives for the ones we love. Wig Out! Cancer can take a toll on every part of your identity, including your hair. But you’re not alone. There are many resources available to support and empower you through this journey. EverYou Find the best quality wigs, headwear and mastectomy products to help you keep looking and feeling like yourself. Wig/Headcovers How To Guides You may have thought about buying a wig, but don’t know where to begin. Headcovers resources provide insightful details on color, style, construction, buying tips and care. Verma Foundation The Verma Foundation is proud to provide human hair cap wigs to cancer patients in financial need - completely free of cost. Wigs & Wishes Receiving a wig from Wigs &Wishes or any participating salon is completely free! They only ask for a copy of a diagnosis letter for their records. Headcovers Unlimited Serving cancer patients for 30 years. Shop with confidence, knowing that products have been developed with your specific needs in mind. Hair We Share Provide customized, human hair wigs free of charge to anyone whose financial means doesn’t allow them to purchase one.