No Baby?

And my heart sank...

"Your chemotherapy and your stem cell transplant will most likely only give you less than a 25% chance to have another baby," my oncologist told me.

I'd just had my precious baby Beckham a few weeks prior. He was still in the hospital fighting to be a normal baby and get the heck out of the special care nursery.

But the second my doctor finished that sentence, I immediately wanted another baby.

After the miserable pregnancy I had with Beckham--with severe morning sickness, which was more like all day and night sickness for 23 weeks--I was pretty sure he was going to be my last child. Plus I found out, while 29 weeks pregnant, I have Acute Myeloid Leukemia.

The thought of having another child was so far out of my mind when I heard the words "you have cancer."

There was so much more to focus on. We needed to get Bex out safely and I needed to start chemo asap.

I just kept thinking if I got through all of this cancer stuff, and then tried to have another baby, would it spark it back up? Theoretically, or medically, probably not. But that's what I'd be thinking in my mind if I ever got knocked up post-cancer.

I pretty much wanted to steer clear of having another baby after this pregnancy was a whirlwind.

BUT the second my doctor said I'd most likely be sterile (his words, not mine), I wanted another baby right then and there. I almost threw Klay on the ground and told him we needed to get started STAT.

I guess it's like a childhood-parent relationship, where your parent tells you that you can't have something so you only want it more.

That's where I am.
I want another baby.

It sounds so selfish. I just had a healthy baby boy born 10 weeks early with no serious issues, and I'm so thankful for that. I love that little boy so much. But seeing his sweet face and holding him makes me want to cherish every second, every ounce of this little precious person. I don't want to miss anything. I want to be with him, but it makes me sad he's growing up so fast. I feel like he is anyway.

He was so tiny.
And now I feel like he's huge.

And he's already so smart. I mean look at him!

I mean that's a good thing--a really good thing--he's growing up to be a strong boy. Buuuuutttttt, I literally had to fight back the tears when he went up to size 1 diapers last week. I can't believe he's already in 1's. I just stared at his tiny newborn diapers in sadness. They are so small. I can't believe he's growing so fast.

And on top of all of this crazy baby-wanting hormone crap, Brody is turning 3 this week--3! How did that happen? I can't believe it. Time flies.

I'm so thankful for my healthy kids. I truly am. It just seems selfish for me to want to have another baby when I already have two healthy, happy children.

I guess it just saddens me that this will--quite possibly--be the end of the "baby stage" once Beckham gets older. I'm sure every mother experiences that sadness of knowing that you won't witness seeing another one of your children take its first breath in the delivery room, or see their first baby grin.

Believe me, I know that I will have lots of new experiences with the boys as they get older. I will cheer for them at their first ball game, kiss them and tell them to have a good day on their first day of school, watch their faces light up when they see the ocean for the first time, and so much more.

I'm excited for those things.

But every time I see a pregnant lady, I just want to be THAT pregnant lady again. Experience the joys of going to the hospital, the joys of seeing your child for the first time, and the joy of breastfeeding--especially because I didn't get to experience that with Bex.

It's really stupid for me to complain about things like this. There are so many people out there who aren't fortunate enough to be able to experience a baby like I have.

That's much harder than any of this that I'm going through, cancer included.
I couldn't imagine.

When I look at Bex, I cherish him and our late night feedings. I just kiss him and love on him so much. I much more calm than I was with Brody, so I kind of feel like Bro got the shitty end of the stick.

Being a first-time mom was scary and intense. I had no idea what I was doing. But with Beckham, I feel like I'm a better mom. That probably sounds terrible. I'm just so much more relaxed. I don't stress over the small stuff. I can handle it. But with Bro I was a wreck. I literally lost my mind. I went crazy. And I feel bad for Brody because of that.

But Brody still gets lots of kisses from mommy, don't worry about that. I love that little funny guy. He makes me laugh daily. He's seriously the most amazing little boy. He lights up my life.

No one ever said this parenting thing was going to be easy. I just don't know if I can let go of the not having another child again. Someone taking that away from you is the cruelest feeling in the world.

I was ready for the baby stage this second time around. I'm happy to get up for the late-night feedings and ready to change diapers. I literally jump for joy when this kid poos. I can't help it. Poo-ing excites me.

So, this can't be it, right? It can't be my last baby.

But then I think, what if this cancer thing takes a turn for the worst. I'll have left Klay with two kids (or more if we managed to have any) and that seems so unfair to him.

Stop rolling your eyes, babe. I know you are while you're reading this hunny buns. I just worry so much. I think too much. I want so badly to live this life with you and our kids. And I want to make babies with you because those kids will have the most amazing father on the planet.

And Klay, I know we are in the hospital, but the fact you went to get me cereal and milk for dinner from CVS (because I'm a crazy person) is making you look even sexier while you're laying on that bed next to me, hot stuff. I adore you.

I might try making a baby tonight. LOL... just kidding.

Seriously though, this baby sitch is weighing on my mind. Every time I see a pregnant woman walking around I just want to be her. Experience all of that again. Plus, chances are she's not finding out she has cancer while she's pregnant. So she's probably having a wonderful pregnancy. The whole leukemia thing sort of ruined the normalcy of Bex's pregnancy, obvi.

I could always adopt. There are plenty of children out there who need good homes. I've thought about that for a long long time. I would love to do that to. But I still won't get to experience being pregnant again.

I know I can't have everything I want.

This cancer has taken a lot away from me. And, I'm mad about that. It took my confidence, my hair, my eyelashes, my baby boy out of utero, time away from my children and it's most likely going to take away my ability to have another child.

On the flip side, I guess to this cancer has given me a lot of things too.

-- A reason to fight.
-- A rash.
-- A more open mind. 
-- A new card to play when I don't feel like doing something... 
            Klay: "Can you make me a sandwich?" 
            Me: "You know I would, but I have cancer so..."
-- Knowledge.
-- More faith in people.
-- Bad diarrhea. 
-- No need to shave the lady parts any more (FIST PUMP!)
-- Strength that I never knew I had.
-- Frustration
-- A drugless and natural vaginal birth (yowza!)
-- Hope
-- New friends.
-- And it has helped restore my relationship with God.

I guess I just have to play the next year or two by ear and see how I feel and look at all the possibilities of either adoption, trying to have another baby or becoming a baby-snatcher at a hospital...

I'm kidding... or am I?

Someone needs to bring me a baby to sniff, STAT!

Baby Fevered & Losing My Mind & Possibly My Uterus,

Taking Off The Hat

Being bald is still a bit of a challenge for me.

I used to walk by the mirror and didn't recognize the person there.
Now, I walk by a photo of me with hair and I don't remember being "her."

I want to be "her" again.
I don't know if I will ever be.

I mean look at her.

Yeah she's pregnant and fat, but whatever. She seems confident--even though she needs her roots done.

I'm not her any more. I'm not that girl with that giant smile and long blonde hair.

I feel like in so many ways that defined me; it was who I was--the blonde girl. Now, I don't have that security blanket to hide under.

I'm bald. Like bald bald.

Everyone who has seen the hairless version of me says "at least you have a nice shaped head." But I'm pretty sure people say that to anyone who has cancer and has to shave their head. At least, I feel like it's that way.

And not that people saying that upsets me; it doesn't. It just feels like they need something to say when they see my bare head.

But what are you supposed to say to someone who lost their hair from chemo?

I suppose there is no right or great thing to say. Whatever anyone says, I won't believe them.

And it's not just that. I look at this guy down here and he's freaking handsome.

I know he loves me no matter what.
He's loved me when I've been fat, skinny, had acne, cellulite, stretch marks, double chins and now with no hair. But being bald does something to a woman's confidence. I feel ugly. And way too ugly for him.

And I've debated on how/if/when I wanted to share my hairless head with the world. I don't know when I'll be ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I don't know what I'm scared of or why I've hesitated showing my head to people. But I'm tired of hiding it.

However, when I take a picture or see a photo with my bald head in the background it's depressing. It's shocking. It's not me.

It was so difficult those first few weeks. It was especially tough when I came home from my 34-day stint in the hospital.

I'll never forget my first night home.

Bex was still in the hospital. I was obviously upset about that, but being at home--where I haven't been since my diagnosis--was strange.

I was so happy to leave the hospital and finally enjoy home-life again but I didn't expect to be so down and depressed once I got there.

Walking in MY bathroom, in MY house, with MY things, and looking in MY mirror was one of the hardest things I've had to do.

I guess it was because I hadn't been in the one place that is OURS and that is familiar since my life was turned upside down. And now I've come home looking pale, frail, skinny, hairless, and sick and it's all more real.

As odd as this sounds, it still seems like a shock, almost dreamlike, but it also feels more real... if that makes any sense. I guess it all sunk in more when I was home.

I wasn't living in the hospital fighting this disease any more.

I was at my home, in my environment, with this disease--with cancer--trying to get back to a normal routine. And now, I'm going to feel all of the emotions that really come with it.

I deeply felt the depression that accompanies cancer.

I was coming to the realization that it's going to be a long road before it's "over" and knowing that it's never really going to go away. For the rest of my life, I will have to have check ups, check the box for "cancer" on medical forms, inform doctors I've had chemo and worry about the effects it may have on body longterm. It's possible I can develop more cancers, especially now that I've had chemo.

All of these things were weighing on my mind daily. Plus I would cry every time I looked in the mirror at the bald girl who stared back at me.

Knowing that this won't go away and knowing that I had to go back in the hospital eventually, I sat in my bathtub for the first time in almost 40 days, I just stared at the faucet with tears streaming down my face.

I'm home.
I don't want to go back and deal with this.
I just want to be home.
I don't want to go to the doctor.
I don't want to know when my next round of chemo is.
I don't want any of it.
I want to hide from it.
I want to avoid it all.

For days after coming home from the hospital, I couldn't snap out of it. I cried every day, at different times of the day.

You'd think I'd be ecstatic to be home, and in a way I was, but I could never get away from thinking about the fact that I was going to have to go back to the hospital.
I was going to have to get more chemo.
I was going to have to do it all again and again and again.
I was going to have to fight to get through this.

And I was still getting used the hairless version of me.

Now, with Christmas around the corner, I was going to see more people I knew. And, eventually I would want to take off my hat to scratch my head.

But once I got comfortable enough, I'd take my hat off and watch people's faces react to the shock of seeing "bald Cass."

I mean it's shocking, of course, to see me bald, especially to those who knew me pre-cancer.

Seeing someone without hair for the first time is going to be strange. But everyone who has seen me with no hair has been great about it.

I just worry about kids who I may be around eventually. That worries me.

And I do feel like if I go somewhere people stare like they know I have cancer... maybe it's just me thinking they stare.

I don't know why I care so much about something so dumb. I'm alive right? So who cares if I have hair or not?

I feel like that's how I should feel.

I feel like I'll never feel like I look good again. Now, I think my eyelashes are starting to fall out and it's getting harder to put on mascara. They all just clump together and I have to work with my lashes for a long time to get them decent.

Thank God I have blonde eyebrows. Klay and I have always made fun of each other's eyebrows. His are huge, dark and bushy and he says I don't have any cause you can't see them. Good thing is, if they go away I won't look much different.

I guess there are good things and bad things that come with losing your hair.

BAD: One of the tough things to figure out is where to stop your makeup with no "official" hairline. Should I bronze my head because it's pale? Ehh... maybe that's too much.

GOOD: But it's great to not have to dry, straighten or fix my hair. It's cut down my time to get ready by 40 minutes or more.

BAD: - My head gets cold if it's too windy or even cool in the house with the fan on.

GOOD: I'll save money on shampoo and hair products.

BAD: It sucks having a hat on all day, especially when I'm in public, cause it gets hot and itchy.

GOOD: I'm not necessarily worried about it raining and having a bad hair day due to weather. SCORE!

BAD: I'd get people staring if I went without a hat.

GOOD: I take much quicker showers. I'm more like a man in that way now.

BAD: I have a huge mole on the back of my head that I just learned about two weeks ago. Apparently no one told me about it. Klay said "he thought I knew." I guess he thought I had eyes in the back of my head. Who knows?

GOOD: Maybe when it grows back I'll have hair like Jennifer Aniston or a Victoria's Secret model. That'd be sweet.

BAD: Or it could grow back frizzy, crazy or look like Don King.

GOOD: Oh! And maybe I won't have a cow lick in the front of my head where I can do a center hair-part. That'd be amaze!

In a lot of ways, I don't want to mess with hair again. It takes up a lot of time. But I see cute hairstyles and stuff on Pinterest and think "oh I'd love to try that..." and then I remember I'm bald.

Unfortunately, I still grow leg hair.

Seriously, chemo? You suck.

So I guess it's time for me to not give a shit.

I have leukemia.

I don't have any hair.

Whatever.

I'm bald.

I'm different.

It's life and it's part of my journey.

Now, I just look more like my boys.

No hair... don't care,

First Round of Chemo... CHECK

I still can't believe I'm saying that I have leukemia. It just doesn't seem real; and I was diagnosed
over 20 days ago.

I just finished my first full round of chemo on Tuesday which I suppose is somewhat exciting.

There were three different chemo treatments I was getting--two from an IV, using a port in my chest to not damage the smaller veins in my arms and hands, and then a pill that I'm supposed to take twice a day (my oral chemo).

One chemo is called Idarubicin. It would only be infused only for 30 minutes a day for three days.

I also had a continuous bag of Cytarabine that was infused for 24 hours for four days. Plus I had several other things being pumped through my body... antibiotics, prechemo meds, zofran, potassium etc. (With the Cytarbine I had do to two eye drops in each eye, four times daily because it can cause conjunctivitis.

The last was the medication is the oral chemo pills called Nexavar. They were 6400 bucks, which is crazy. Luckily our insurance covered it. I had to take two pills, two times daily for seven days. They are supposed to attack my bad FLT 3 mutation in my bone marrow.

So I had a lot of IVs hooked into me through my port and even my hand, and if I needed to go to the bathroom, I have push this little cart around so my fluids could stay running continuously. Fun stuff.

It's even more fun when air gets in the line or an infusion is complete and starts beeping super loudly over and over until a nurse walks in an fixes it, which over here could take up to 20 minutes or more.

We have found the "silence" button, but it only silences it for about a minute or so.

Now imagine having a whole bunch of fluids being shoved into your system and that pump beeping every few minutes all through the night--and literally as I'm typing this, it started beeping.

So I started chemo Monday night and finished all of IV chemo by Friday and the finally finished my oral chemo Tuesday, Dec. 2.

The first immediate side effect of chemo was the disgusting taste in my mouth. Water didn't taste right. It tasted salty. Nothing tastes good. Just recently things started to taste a little better and I'm able to tolerate Gatorade and water, and a few other things.

I have gotten sick a few times, but not too bad. Now things on the other end of my body have not been so pleasant.

And that hasn't been fun--having tummy issues. But mostly I've been really tired and now running fevers here and there, which they say is normal.

I am neutropenic; that's a fancy way of saying I'm prone to getting any infections really easy. So anyone who is sick, with a runny nose or cough or anything should come up here to visit me. In fact, they are reducing my visitors that I can have daily. So if I do know you, please do not just show up. I may be feeling terrible over the next week or so still and I may not want visitors or may not be able to have them.

Now that I'm done with my first round, I just basically have to sit around and wait. The chemo kills and wipes out everything--the good cells and the bad. So once my levels start to build back up, they will do another bone marrow biopsy to determine the next step (more chemo or a bone marrow transplant).

The truth is, I noticed last night my hair is starting fall out; that is a whole-other-emotion right there.

I mean I've always shed a lot of hair, so much so that I had to keep our Swiffer in our bathroom to do a quick sweep after I dried it. And normally that always led me to an impulse decision to wack it off at some point. But I always felt the shorter my hair, the fatter I look.

And it's definitely falling out today. It's not in clumps or anything, just lots of long strands of hair are everywhere.

Let me go back to the first few days of chemo.

It was my first round.
I've never done this before.
I was scared.
I was afraid.
I hated this new depressing building I'd been forced in to.
I missed my nurses in High Risk OB.
I missed my old room over on the fourth floor.
I missed my sons.
I missed my dogs.

Every time I heard the word chemo I'd cringe.
Every time they suited in their little suits with hazardous on the front I'd get a jolt to the stomach.
Every time I saw the yellow bags with the hazardous symbols on it, I'd begin to fall in to a stupor.
Every time I heard the words "I need someone to come check chemo, please," I thought 'this is the most depressing job on the face of the planet.'
Every time I heard the word "chemo" I'd get down and depressed.
Every time I'd hear some poor old person in the next room cough or get sick, I'd be sad for them.

By day 2 and 3 of chemo, I was at an emotional low. I was just down. I didn't want to get out of bed. I started having some tummy issues. Nothing was tasting good. I was losing my appetite.

I looked around at my family and felt bad for them. Bad that they'd have to watch me go through this, bad that they would watch my body begin to deteriorate before my counts would start to go back up.

We weren't sure what the side effects would be for me. I'm younger than most folks that get this so it all depends on how my body handles it.

Most side effects are:

• nausea
• vomiting
• diarrhea
• fevers
• mouth sores 
• hair loss
• GI problems
• heart problems
• among many, many other things

I definitely have had the first four, but mostly the third one, and it's been brutal. There has been nothing quite like it.

So this past week I haven't really felt too well. I've had a low-grade fever most of the day the past few days and so exhausted I can barely stand. I just felt completely wiped out.

I've been through so much emotionally the past two weeks. I found I have leukemia while 29 weeks pregnant. I had a bone marrow biopsy. I was induced into labor for 24 hours and called a "failed induction" because I wasn't progressing enough. Two days, later I had a premature baby with no epidural. I started chemo treatment just three days after having my precious boy. I got a really bad cold that took forever to get rid of. I started feeling the side effects of the chemo only a few days later. I became neutropenic. Now, I'm losing my hair and still having loose BM's. 

It's been brutal these past few weeks, but I also know how thankful I am to have each day I have, even if I feel terrible. My boy is doing great. Brody is managing and spending quality time with family and Klay is focused on getting us back together as a family... with all of us healthy.

All of your love and support help me make it through each day, and I truly from the bottom of my heart am forever grateful for you prayers and your gifts.

I still have a few weeks in this place, so I'm praying I make it through without any sort of infection---that would be the best case scenario. Once my blood counts start to go back up, they will do another bone marrow biopsy and see how the chemo did---hopefully it kicked those cancer cells to the curb!

Then we will talk about our next steps.

I'm writing this story too, because I want to keep everyone informed. But I will admit it is very difficult to respond to every text, FB message, etc. 

Right now we are waiting and twiddling our thumbs, which means I'm thinking about not having the nursery even started yet, or having a crib or having our bathroom finished. LOL. Typical Cass... I'm a worry wart. 

In all truth, those things don't matter to me. Of course anyone would like them to be done, but I honestly don't care. I know those things are not important. I really, truly and deeply understand that now. I honestly don't care that it's not finished, or if my house is a mess, or the dishes don't get cleaned, and I don't care that we have only one bathroom we can use. 

I just want to be home with all my boys, changing dirty diapers and playing "pow pow" with Bro, and have a healthy family. That's all I want in this life--and it'd be nice if it could all happen before Christmas. That would truly be a day to celebrate.

Oh! And make sure to listen to the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning Show Monday between 7-8 am! They called me this week and surprised me. Oh what a blessing that was, and they totally lifted my spirits. And thank you to my friend, Wanda for nominating us. Now that woman... is an amazing, uplifting woman; a woman like no other!

Thank you all for your kind words, thoughts and prayers,

Baby Beckham's Birth Story

After the failed induction and a day of rest, Thursday morning came faster than I thought it would. Immediately after I got up, I started throwing up--probably from nerves, but this whole process was a whirlwind; it was just weighing on me so bad.

There was so much uncertainty.

Was he going to be OK?
Was I going to be OK?
Were we going to be able to deliver him vaginally?
Were we going to make it through all this without having a C-section?
How was I going to handle the pain?
How was he going to tolerate labor again?

There were so many unanswered questions that made me worried and fearful. It was overwhelming. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. If we were going to do this, I wanted to go for it and give it our best shot to get him out naturally.

That was my mind frame--let's get this done.

They wheeled me down about 7 a.m. or so and put another cytotec in my cervix to try to soften it one more time before starting me on pitocin.

I started contracting again, but not as much as I did the first day. They weren't bad contractions, at least not to me, just like menstrual cramps.

I started the day at a 2 and long, so my cervix hadn't completely softened yet, but I was much further now than I was two days prior, so that was good.

When my doc got me going on pitocin around noon or so, the contractions picked up and I started to dilate a little more. Things were finally progressing.

My nurse would ask how the contractions were and honestly they weren't really bothering me. They were uncomfortable and slowly getting stronger, but I kept saying "I just hope I'm a bad ass with a high pain tolerance and that's why they aren't bothering me that much."

By around 7 or so that night, my doc came down and checked my cervix again. This time I was 4 and 75% effaced, so almost fully thinned out. She knew that when I finally thinned all the way out, he would come pretty fast.

She decided to break my water. I was actually surprised with each vaginal check how much I wasn't bothered by her shoving her hand up there. I remember when she broke my water with Brody, it hurt. This time, I was like "ehh, it's not bad at all." I think it's all in your mind frame.

I knew I was doing this on my own. My anesthesiologists were planning to give me pain meds through an IV to help take some of the edge off when I wanted it.

I hadn't asked for it this whole time, because I didn't feel like I needed it. But finally they hooked me up to a PCA so I could push a button when I wanted it. But I never really pushed the button. I kept forgetting. And it wasn't helping me even when I would.

They were supposed to double my dose as I progressed and then give me some other pain med when my contractions really kicked in, but by the time this baby started coming I didn't have any of that. It was all natural.

When I started to have to really breathe through my contractions, Klay would be over there pushing that button, trying to get me meds, but I had to sit there and tell him "it's not helping." LOL. He'd say, "push the button!" He was worried, but I hadn't even gotten to the hard part yet.

I had about 30 minutes of pretty bad pain. And of those 30 minutes, 10-15 were extremely painful, but man, those last two contractions were brutal.

Not too long later, my doc came running in when she saw the baby's heart rate dip. Apparently that's a sign they are getting ready to come down the birth canal.

She checked me and I was a 6 almost 7 and she started gearing up.

That's when I really started hurting. I was turned on my side, legs clinched and grabbing onto the bed rails for dear life.

I started to think I couldn't do this if it was going to take much longer. But I could barely get any thought or words out because the pain was insane. If I could describe it, it felt like a watermelon on fire with razor blades forcing its way down and out of your body.

I started to feel the urge to push and I hollered "I gotta push!!!!" so they'd call the NICU to get them down to the room. He was coming and he was coming fast.

Everyone was telling me to wait and hold him in because NICU needed to be down in the room before Bex came out in case he wasn't breathing.

And when they tell you you have an urge to push, there is no urge about it. There is no stopping it. But somehow, I managed not to push. I literally think it was because I was on my side. Had I been on my back, legs spread, he would have shot out across the room--there would have been no stopping it.

I had that first contraction before the contraction where Bex made his arrival and I think I scarred Klay for life.

I hollered so loud I probably ignited fear in all of the women waiting to deliver down the hall.

All I kept hearing was "hold him in Cass, hold him in, don't push don't push!"

My doc had told me I was going to have another contraction before NICU made it down. About 30 seconds later the second one started.

I was still on my side, hollering "he's coming!"
"Hold him in, hold him in," everyone said.
"I caaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnn't!!!" I shouted.

As soon as my doctor flung my leg open, baby boy slid right out. I didn't push once.

He was crying, which meant he was breathing. NICU hadn't gotten there yet.

His cry was so soft though it took me a minute to hear.

I was breathing hard, shaking and relieved the pain was over; it stopped instantly.

My doc said "you did it. He's fine, he's breathing and crying and you have a baby!"

I was kinda in shock like, "I do?" I couldn't believe I did it.

I kept saying "I'm sorry" I couldn't hold him in.

Seconds later a flood of people burst into the room.

Beckham immediately reached out and grabbed my doctor's clamp when she was about to clamp the cord. She started to laugh. He is already a feisty little thing.

He weighed 3lbs 8 oz, 17 inches long and was born at 30 weeks gestation.

Thursday, November 20, 2014 at 9:23 p.m.

My doc noticed he had a knot in his umbilical cord. "He failed jump roping class," she said. But later on after Bex was being looked at by the NICU folks and I was being cleaned up, my doc said that the knot could have been fatal to him had we continued on with the pregnancy. The bigger he would have gotten, the more strain he would have put on his cord and he could have lost his blood flow.

"He was meant to come out," my doc said to me a few days later.

I truly believe that. He was meant to come out. Things could have been a lot worse, but on that day, everything went as well as it could have. It was a great day.

Pregnant with Cancer

I never thought these words would ever come out of my mouth.

I have leukemia.

That's a hard thing to truly say and know that it's not a dream, or a lie, or a bad joke. It's true. It's real. It's hard.

On top of that, I found out about my diagnosis while 29 weeks pregnant with my second child--a little boy--named Beckham Laine.

These past 12 days have been crazy and full of ups and downs. There were days I cried for a while. Times I had huge breakdowns in tears. Many things racing through my head...

"Why me?"
"Is this real? This has to be a nightmare."
"I want to wake up."
"I feel like I knew this was coming."
"Why does it have to be both? Why can't I just have cancer and why did it have to be while I was pregnant?"
"I'm scared."
"I have to be here for my kids. I have to be here for Klay."
"I can't leave them."
"I want to go home."
"I want to go home."
"I want to go home."

--

It all started off while I was pregnant and showing signs of severe anemia. When my blood work came back worse at 28 weeks than when I was 24 weeks gestation, that alarmed my OBGYN, who is incredible by the way...

The day I found out (it was the day of my baby shower--Nov. 9) my blood work was worse than before with no explanation as to why (because I had been taking iron). So my OB said go see a hematologist the next day.

I did. And the hematologist seemed to think that it was the blood pressure med I was on. I had stopped taking it that weekend due to the alarming call from my doctor, but it hadn't been long enough to be able to tell what was causing this. So I was ordered to take steroids and come back in a week.

That was on Monday, Nov. 10. On Wednesday, I started having some severe pain in my lower back. It felt like back spasms and would come in waves and be very uncomfortable. I hadn't done anything all day but relax. My mom had even come over and cooked and watched Brody, so I literally napped and just watched TV.

Eventually the pain became a constant dull ache (which was a lot less painful) and I was able to get some sleep.

The next day I decided to call my OB and tell her what was going on. They wanted me to come in and make sure everything was OK. After a sonogram and monitoring everything appeared to be fine. But they wanted me to stay overnight.

I just thought it was to be precautionary, but after my doctor came up to talk to me about the possibilities of what this could be, it became unreal.

My blood work had shown some immature cell blasts, which is most likely cancer at least I think that's what they said, and so I had to do a bone marrow biopsy the next day.

There were three possibilities:

1) It could be the blood pressure med I was on
2) It could be toxemia or the HELP syndrome, though I wasn't showing any signs of that
3) It could be leukemia

Not exactly something you want to hear.

I think I knew deep down, it was going to be the latter. But through the night I kept telling Klay that it had to be the BP med. It just didn't make sense and honestly it didn't make sense to any of my doctors either. They seemed baffled.

Monday, just three days earlier, there was no signs of leukemia and Thursday there were these immature cell blasts? It just seemed so sudden.

But no one was worried about the back pain. It wasn't premature labor and it was never brought up again.

Then Friday, they came in and said, "It's AML. Acute Myeloid Leukemia."

A wave of questions about the future and our options were being tossed our way.

Now, what to do with baby?

My team of doctors researched, discussed and talked about options.

Was Chemo with baby a safe, viable option?

I'm a rare case. It's more common to get breast cancer and be pregnant, but leukemia was whole-other-ballgame.

Then came the longest weekend from hell.

Decisions were changing constantly and we were still waiting on bone marrow results. Nothing was going to happen til Monday, Nov. 17.

Monday, the doctors decided they would wait because my blood levels were still pretty stable, but not five minutes later, they changed their minds and opted for an induction to get Beckham out, so I could get treatment ASAP.

Then the decision arose about if an epidural was an option.

Pretty much only one person was comfortable putting it in. But before that became an option, I was told no epidural. And I was OK with that. I had an epidural with Brody, so I was very PRO-epidural gal. But once it was being talked about being a possibility, I instantly got nervous and my gut was telling me to reject that idea.

The chances that something could go wrong and a red blood cell could be sent up my spine and into my brain spreading this cancer, was slim according to people, but it seemed to me to be too much of a selfish risk to take. Yes, it'd be nice to have one, but I didn't feel right about it. I needed to do this on my own. I've already got so much at stake here.

Monday around 5 p.m., I was wheeled down to Labor and Delivery in tears. This just all seemed to be unreal. As much as I wanted my little guy here and this part of this journey over with, I had just finished a NICU tour the day prior and that was tough. Seeing these tiny babies with all of these machines hooked up for whatever circumstance led them to be born before their little bodies were ready was sad and unfair. And that was going to be my little guy in there next. I know that babies are born premature all the time, but seeing it in person and not just in photos seemed to really make me realize every moment Beckham was in my tummy was precious and crucial time for him to grow and have an easier first few months of life.

Luckily on Thursday and Friday, when we found out I had cancer, I was given my doses of steroids to help the baby's lungs progress faster while he was still in the womb.

Anyway, back to Nov. 17.... they started cytotec and placed those in my cervix to soften it and get the process started. With the first one, I started contracting. By the early morning, they started pitocin. That's when the fun starts. I was having stronger contractions, but I didn't feel like it was too bad. This continued for the next several hours and by Tuesday at around 5 pm or so, I was only dilated to a 2 and long. If you don't know what that means, look it up. But basically the softer your cervix is the better and quicker you dilate.

So my doc decided to stop the induction, send me back upstairs to get some rest. Then we could start again on Thursday.

I had labored for over 24 hours. It wasn't extremely painful... felt mostly like bad menstrual cramps. But my contractions continued over the next day or so even though I was off pitocin. They just weren't happening regular.

Wednesday I took the day off and relaxed. When I got back to my room, I instantly relaxed.

Don't get me wrong, I was disappointed he didn't come that first day, but my body was worn out. I was exhausted had minimal sleep and hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. I needed a break. And it was the right option.

More to come soon...