This is all starting to sink in...

David finally called me and I can barely speak. "I have breast cancer" I squeak to him through my sobs. My heart drops when I tell him. After all we've been through in the last few years. Another obstacle for us to overcome. "I'll be right there" he shouts into the phone. Thankfully Abby is still sleeping. I have some time to cry this out. I just keep thinking, WHY? HOW? This must have something to do with the fertility drugs. I just can't make sense of it any other way. Does the universe hate me for some reason? What the fuck did I do to cause this? Now I know through all my therapy after Ben died that asking what I did to cause this is not helpful but I ask it anyway. But seriously!!!  My twin son died after being able to hold his precious soul for two months. Isn't that enough of a sacrifice in this lifetime?  I am seriously getting pissed. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Jessica. You can deal with this. Well you know what? I am going to figure this out and beat this cancer. But please, please let it be curable and workable. I just want to have this baby and be a mother to these unbelievable kids. I think about how much I love Abby and her little gorgeous face. I fall apart again. I have to be strong for her. And I have to be strong for little peanut. 

Abby calls me on the monitor. "Mommmmmaaaaa" in her italian accent. She's up from her nap. In this moment I am thankful to be a mother. I am thankful to be a wife. I am thankful to be alive and will do whatever I have to do to be a wife and mother for many years to come. I look around the bedroom and throw out all the candy stash (including David's). I go downstairs and start throwing away all the sweets too. That was my gut reaction.

Research time. Strategic planning. SWOT analysis. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about! 

I immediately find this article on the internet and I am starting to feel hopeful.  With Cancer, With Child  This article from the New York Times is well-written and well-researched. 

But for all the good you read, there is also the bad. I'm going to stay positive but it would really help if I had more answers. I still have no idea how bad this cancer is and until they operate they won't be able to confirm the stage.

Friday we meet my ob/gyn Dr. Daly in Santa Monica so she can feel the tumor and check out the baby's vitals. Peanut is doing just fine. I'm 24.5 weeks now and he kicks me all day long. Yep Lindsey, he kicks me square in the taco. Is that the correct use of the term?  Ha ha. 

We meet with Dr. Melani Shaum at the Angeles Clinic.  I immediately don't like the office. There's a huge bowl of candy at reception and the front desk has music playing to loudly for my taste. I tell David to start emailing our friends to see who has oncologist referrals so I can make appointment ASAP. He tells me to calm down and let's meet the doctor first. Wise man (but he still sends out the emails per my request...). Dr. Shaum is extremely knowledgable and makes me feel at ease. She's answering all my questions and informs us that based on her reading of the report, the ultrasound and her physical exam that my cancer is most likely Stage II (not sure if it is IIA or IIB which depends on whether or not it has spread to my lymph nodes).  She does note that there is one lymph node that is enlarged without any fat present (which is abnormal) but since it was not mishapen it may not actually have cancer.  She had me at Stage II. I am clinging to those words.  She says I will most likely have a lumpectomy within the next 1-2 weeks; then 4 weeks post-surgery would start chemotherapy.  No discussion of radiation (thankfully). Dr. Shaum wants to do a chest MRI but calls Dr. Daly to confirm. Dr. Daly calls Dr. Agnew, the perinatologist who says "unless it is an absolute necessity, NO"...since they don't like the contrast dye.

I have an appointment to meet with the breast surgeon, Dr. Alice Chung at the John Wayne Cancer Institute on Tuesday morning.