I faintly remember in Charleston, South Carolina, on a baby moon with my husband, Evan, in January of 2023, I felt a golf ball-sized lump just under my breast. At the time, I was approximately 32 weeks pregnant and seeing my OBGYN group regularly, so I decided to bring it up at my next appointment. Before this trip, I had one spike of high blood pressure that sent me to triage to ensure I wasn’t developing preeclampsia. Thankfully, I was in the clear from that. I had anxiety throughout my pregnancy because our son, Nolan, is considered our rainbow baby, as we suffered a miscarriage in October of 2022. I was at the point in my pregnancy, too, where my baby and I were perfectly healthy, so my husband would often remind me to choose joy (and be less anxious). If you’ve ever been in that position, you know how this feels.
During a regularly scheduled OB appointment, I showed the doctor the lump on my breast. We both initially thought it was a clogged milk duct and that I would apply a warm compress to reduce the swelling. The doctor noted that she didn’t suspect cancer, but I knew something wasn’t right. After further examination, she sent me to get a diagnostic ultrasound at the Hill Breast Center with Baptist Health Jacksonville. As I was obviously concerned, she tried to ease my worries that an ultrasound was a precautionary measure, allowing us to see what we aren’t able to see with the naked eye.
I begrudgingly drove downtown to my appointment at the Hill Breast Center and quickly realized I felt out of place, not only being under the age of 40 at a breast cancer diagnostic center but also being pregnant. I’ll never forget how kind the ultrasound tech was there, indicating she did this for pregnant women regularly. I even joked I would share the name of our son, because we weren’t sharing that until after birth, if she told me what she saw. And then that was it, the other shoe dropped. The radiologist immediately came in and said, “I’m not going to lie, it’s a 50/50 shot it’s cancer.”
The world stopped, and I couldn’t help but think I was hearing someone else being diagnosed — because surely, I couldn’t be growing a human and possibly a cancerous tumor simultaneously. She urged me to call my OB office first thing the next morning for a referral for a biopsy to confirm. On the day of my co-ed baby shower, I went in to get an ultrasound-guided biopsy. The mood was lighthearted, but looking back, it’s almost like they knew the inevitable.
I completed my biopsy on a Friday afternoon, and on a Tuesday during the workday, the My Baptist Chart notification hit my phone with the results. My husband and I just saw the word carcinoma and knew that was not a good sign. My brother-in-law, a medical student at the time, also reviewed my biopsy results. My OB immediately called me to come in that afternoon to go over my biopsy results. I don’t remember much of the appointment other than that she hugged me and introduced me to my oncologist, Dr. Ilicia Shugarman.
At 34 weeks pregnant, I was diagnosed with invasive ductal carcinoma. My tumor markers were negative for HER2, estrogen, and progesterone — meaning it was triple negative breast cancer (TNBC), the most aggressive form of breast cancer that typically affects women under 40. TNBC accounts for 10–15% of all breast cancers and is more challenging to treat than hormone-positive cancers.
Dr. Shugarman immediately said, “I’m not worried about you at all.” I don’t think she knew how hard it was to wrap my mind around that statement. She explained to us that I would undergo surgery, radiation, six months of chemotherapy, a year of immunotherapy, and reconstruction — if I chose to do so. She did present the other option of experimental trials and additional chemo if my treatment was not effective, but in my mind, that wasn’t an option. Dr. Shugarman’s bedside manner is unmatched. She advocates for her patients and wants them to instantly feel like they’re part of her family. She celebrated when we received my genetics back, and I was BRCA negative.
My medical team, which included a high-risk obstetrician, my regular obstetrician, my oncologist, and a general surgeon, decided on a plan. I was to be induced at 37 weeks pregnant at Baptist Medical Center Beaches and then receive a chemo port after delivery so that I could start chemo treatments two weeks postpartum. There were many nights I cried myself to sleep thinking how cruel it is that I was finally going to have my rainbow baby in my arms, but would have to leave him at least weekly to receive life-saving treatment.
The days after surgery and the start of my treatment journey were equally mentally exhausting. Initially, I was extremely bitter and angry that I was not like other women in my position. I longed to complain solely about sleepless nights and postpartum hair loss, but I simply didn’t have the mental bandwidth to worry about being an overly anxious first-time mom. Instead, I was managing symptoms and wondering when I was going to have to shave my head.
When you are on the receiving end of a life-changing medical diagnosis, it changes you forever. It’s evident that although my story into motherhood isn’t traditional, I do believe that it made me cherish becoming a mother. On September 5, 2023, I was officially declared cancer-free, and I have been in remission ever since that day. I am grateful to be able to share my story with the young cancer community and bring hope to others who may be unfortunately dealing with similar circumstances. I believe that every woman should advocate for their health and have yearly mammograms as soon as they can.
At Baptist Health, you’ll find a variety of screening options, along with comprehensive, leading-edge diagnostic services, such as breast ultrasound, MRI and biopsy capabilities. These diagnostic tests can often be done the same day a suspicious result is found on a mammogram.
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