May 1, 2021 Today started out pretty uneventful. Cory ran some errands, mowed the lawn. I lay down to rest when Macy took a nap. When Cory got home he came upstairs and woke me up. He said there was someone at the door for me. I was confused but trudged downstairs to find Carrie and Kayla at the door. I just started crying. I couldn’t even help it, the fact that they both got in their cars the day after I had broken the news to them and drove all the way to see me, hug me, be with me in this fight - it was overwhelming to say the least. We sat on the porch and spent a very long time just talking, catching up on our lives. I got to meet and hold Carrie’s sweet baby girl. We talked about the cancer, sure, but we focused more on the joys of life. How their families were doing, how was work, how was motherhood, how did we survive the pandemic, how do we move past the pandemic. We laughed about old memories, talked about better days and the good days to come. I’m certain that my time with these dear friends of mine lifted me up to a new level of acceptance. My heart was full, it was so hard to tell them goodbye. I knew that the next time I might see them I’d probably be deep into this fight. I won’t have my hair. I won’t look like the “me” they know and love - but I know they’ll love me fiercely anyway. I know they and all our girlfriends are going to love me through this, fight with me through this, carry me through this. Their positivity, their encouragement, their prayers - they bring me healing beyond what any chemotherapy could. Thank you, Carrie and Kay. I’ll never be able to truly express how much that sunny day on the porch meant to me and I will carry it with me always.

April 29, 2021 Macy has a cold from daycare, or maybe seasonal allergies - or teething - probably a combination of all three, figures. Mom went back home, I missed her, she made things feel a tiny bit less scary. It was a busy day at work, Cory and I were distracted by the work. It kept our minds off of reality, I think. We each told some more friends/family/coworkers - still sucks. I thought I was doing ok, processing things, coming to terms - I wasn’t. That night was terrible. I cried so loud I almost woke Macy up. She started crying. I calmed myself. I had a moment looking down at her baby monitor where I was whispering, “It’s ok baby girl, don’t cry, go back to sleep.” and I felt like I heard God telling me the same thing. Like he was looking down on me hunched over in my bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, the way I was watching Macy on her monitor, telling me to calm down, “It’s ok baby girl, don’t cry, I’ve got this, go to sleep.” I think I drifted off around 1:30am.

April 28, 2021 The Cancer Center's breast health navigator Lisa finally called. My mom, Cory and I sat around the kitchen table with my phone on speaker as she answered our questions. We discussed next steps and took detailed notes. I told her that my primary care physician had selected a recommended care team and we shared their names with her. She planned to make some calls and get my appointments set with a surgeon, medical oncologist and radiation oncologist. Next steps: Meet with each member of my recommended care team Determine staging, prognosis, treatment, timeline Fill out paperwork with medical/family history and prep for appointments starting next week, Tues. (5/4) and Wed. (5/5) Remain hopeful and keep a positive attitude We knew we would need counseling/therapy and support through all of this so we made a care appointment with a leader of our church. We met with Doug - we talked, we processed, we grieved together. We left feeling encouraged and supported by our church family. We talked about how I felt God making a way through all of this crap - marrying a man who has caregiver written on his heart and lives his life as the hands and feet of Jesus, bringing me this disease early in life so that Macy (hopefully) won’t remember mommy’s pain and struggle, being back with my C.O.nxt family where I feel supported and am provided certain flexibilities in my job that others might not - it is so apparent to me that if you look for them, there are silver linings everywhere. God is making a way. When I’m angry, it’s not directed at Him, not right now anyway. As my friend Laura used to tell us in my women’s small group, “There is a real enemy in this world, and it comes to steal, kill and destroy.” This cancer is not of my God, but I know He is going to get me, all of us, through this. We had to tell more people today. It still sucked. I hate dropping this bomb into people’s lives, I know I need the support that our friends and family are so willing and ready to give - I just hate that I need it, I hate that this is why I’m calling on them. Mom stayed another night. We cooked dinner together. Macy continued to bring light and joy to a bleak situation.

April 27, 2021 I woke up, remembered everything, and knew it wasn’t a dream. I wished I could go back to sleep and wake up in a different body, one that wasn’t riddled with this disease. I remembered the bomb I dropped into my parent’s laps the night before and immediately felt guilty knowing they probably didn’t sleep at all. I had to text an update to my boss, Brittany - who is also a dear friend and mentor and who had been following along with me through each imaging and doctor appointment I'd had. I asked if she had time for a call, she said sure - just had to drop her kids off. So I tried to pull myself together. I must have turned on the shower and stepped in at some point - operating on autopilot at this point. But my mind caught up with me as I sat collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor of the tub. Brittany called me, I turned off the water and sat there in the shower, answered the phone and I couldn't even speak. She did the talking for me. She knew. She knew what this meant. She comforted me as best she could. I told her I was worried I wouldn't be able to take on a new client meeting that was coming up this week. She immediately told me to not even worry, not even think about it, that she would take care of everything. After some time, we hung up and I turned the water back on, aching and yet completely numb. Cory took Macy to daycare. He stopped in a parking lot to call his mom and tell her the news. When he got home, he found me in the bathroom still crying on the shower floor. I saw the tears on his face, the redness in his eyes and my heart broke all over again. We cried together, holding each other in a heap on the bathroom floor. It was time to face this. It was time to fight - but first we had to tell the people that we loved. We had to rally our prayer warriors and put on our armor - and thank God we have such amazing family and friends to come alongside us and lift us up in prayer, shower us in support - but this was the shittiest message that we had to deliver to the people we love. With every call, every text message - our hearts broke with every word. Until all that was left was exhaustion and despair. My OB’s office called in the afternoon - I told them that I was already aware and my PCP had gotten things moving. The OB told me the size of my mass based on the ultrasound: 2.2cm x 1.4cm x 1.4cm. Not terrible. Not great, based on the little that I had allowed myself to read online. I did my best to stay offline. I knew it wouldn’t be good for me. The world kept turning, life marched on. I had to go get my 2nd COVID shot. My mom drove over after some meetings that morning. She held me on the couch and we cried. We took a deep breath. We were pissed. We were ready to fight. But there was nothing to do yet. Lisa still hadn’t called. We called my PCP office to follow-up again, just looking for anything we could do. The nurse said that everything had been communicated to the Carle Cancer Center and Lisa was working to get the ducks in a row, we just had to wait (still). To process. To grieve - what was, what might have been, what might never be. We felt it all. We picked up Macy early from daycare - she brought the light. I laughed. We ate dinner, mom stayed the night. God blessed me with some more sleep, the exhaustion was overwhelming.

April 26, 2021 We waited all day for the biopsy results to come back. Cory and I were working late when I got a call from my primary care physician (PCP) Kim Bankston, around 9pm. I just figured she was calling to check in, since I had requested the Imaging Center keep her in the loop and be sure to send all my images/results to her too. I think she thought that I had already heard the news from my OB’s office, but I had not. So she unfortunately had to deliver the bad news - the biopsy came back positive for abnormal cells - “invasive high grade ductal carcinoma.” I felt the air get sucked out of the room and the look I gave Cory was sheer terror. I grabbed a notepad and pen and tried to write it all down because I knew I was in shock and wouldn’t remember half of what she was telling me. But, she had a plan. She had already contacted the Community Cancer Center and got the ball rolling with the Breast Health Navigator, Lisa Lowry. She had complied a list of recommended physicians and told me that Lisa would be contacting me to set up initial appointments with each member of what would become my care team. I have never been so terrified, angry, shocked and confused all at once in my life. When Kim realized that I hadn’t heard the results yet, her attitude and tone changed - I felt my heart drop to the floor and the air was completely sucked out of my chest. Cory held me. I sobbed. I called my mom, we cried, I cursed. We tried to sleep. I wished we had one more night of not knowing our world was about to be blown up. Cory and I lay in bed watching videos of Macy, looking through photos of our family. I watched her grow right before my eyes, thankful for this miracle God had blessed us with, aching that even with all the moments in this life together, it would never be enough time. I thought about how we were hoping to start trying again for baby #2 this summer, and how those dreams would have to be put on hold... or would they be able to happen at all now? And then I felt my mind overcome with resolve, that could have only come from God above. I thought about everything I have to live for. I lay staring up at the ceiling of our dark room and told Cory I was going to fight like hell to beat this and be there for every moment of Macy’s life. That I was going to grow good and old with him. This is not the end of our story. God blessed us with sleep that night.

April 21, 2021 My biopsy was scheduled for two days after the mammogram. It was back at the Fort Jesse Imaging Center. This time I needed Cory with me. In the two days leading up to the biopsy, I had bottled up so much fear and anxiety it was starting to express itself in tension throughout my entire body. My mom was already in town helping watch my niece, Millie, so we took Macy there for the afternoon before heading to the appointment. When we arrived at the imaging center, Cory and I walked hand-in-hand into the reception area. The Great British Bake Off was on the tv once again. We were greeted once again by the sweet receptionist and she continued to exude a warm, comforting presence. The Lord has placed her exactly where she is supposed to be, comforting people during one of the scariest times of their life. I went back for the procedure. The physician seemed pleased, he said he was able to collect 3 good samples. I felt encouraged by the physician collecting the biopsy sample - he said with my limited history and age, the chances of this being cancer were very small. I was told it would be at least 3 business days for the results to come back from pathology. Cory and I trudged out of the imaging center, hopeful that this would be the end of it all. I felt exhausted as my body released all of the fear and tension I had been carrying around all week. Holding onto hope and the words the physician spoke to me. We went straight home and I napped for about an hour before heading back over to pick up Macy from my sister's house. The weekend came quickly and I honestly found myself not worrying about the results, figuring that no news was good news.

April 19, 2021 My first mammogram - at 31-years old. That's not something I thought I'd ever have to say. The appointment was at an Imaging Center here in town. I went to this first appointment alone. I was told when I made the appointment that one person could accompany me to my appointment and wait in the waiting room, but that it would be better to come alone if possible - pandemic and what not - so that's what I did. I went alone. I was welcomed by the sweetest receptionist and she was extremely kind to me, doing her best to help me relax as much as possible before the exam. I sat in the waiting area, The Great British Bake Off was on the television. I was called back into the locker room waiting area, instructed to undress to my waist and put on an awkwardly unattractive cloth scarf-like piece of material with a snap at the neck. I gripped the two sides of cloth at the middle of my chest and willed it not to come apart as I headed to the lounge seating in the locker room. And there I sat, half-naked, waiting - The Great British Bake Off playing in the background as my mind ran wild. A few women in their 60's/70's came in and got ready for their own exams. Each getting called back by a nurse or a tech, and off they went into different rooms. I kept taking low, level breaths - telling myself over and over again - "This is nothing. It's just a cyst. I'm still so young. I breastfed for 15-months. This is nothing." The tech called me back into the room. We did the whole panini press song and dance. It wasn't bad at all, the worst part was cramming my face up against the side of the machine in order to fit all of my breast tissue inside of the imaging machine. And then it was done. I was told to go wait in the locker room lounge again and the doctor would review the results. The tech came back in and told me that the doctor instructed them to do additional imaging and sent me across the hall for an ultrasound. After a new tech took ultrasound images, she said she would share them with the doctor to review and let us know what was next. I sat there in the dimly lit exam room, and when she came back in she told me that the images revealed a mass, not a fluid-filled cyst as I'd hoped, and would require a biopsy of the cells to learn more. I was frozen, my worst fears becoming reality. It wasn't a cyst. It could be something worse. I would have to come back. This wasn't over. Not even close.

April 13, 2021 The day started like any other, fairly uneventful until mid-afternoon. I started noticing some soreness in my right breast. I tried to push it from my mind - but I ended up wandering into my room and laying on the bed as I clumsily smooshed around my breast tissue. It didn't take long though. My hand froze on top of a very noticeable lump and a shiver shot through my body. I thought, "I'm sure it's nothing, I just stopped breastfeeding recently, it's probably a clogged duct." But my gut told me to call my OB. An hour later I was headed to my OB's office for an appointment with the nurse practitioner. I lay back on the exam table wearing a flimsy paper vest as the NP checked me out. She felt it immediately too though and said that I needed to go for a mammogram as soon as possible. She sent the request for a mammogram and ultrasound to the Woman's Imaging Center here in town. I called the imaging center and was able to get scheduled for my appointment the following Monday, April 19. The wait was excruciating. The worrying was endless.