Amanda Kule, 35, Breast Cancer

As a young adult, breast cancer has legitimately always been on my mind. And in a weird way, I almost felt prepared for my diagnosis. Almost. 

It started when I took my first job after college–working with a pharma company to help launch a new breast cancer drug and educate about clinical trials. It continued a few years later when my grandma lost her battle, and I subsequently began annual mammogram and ultrasound screenings. And then I felt a lump.

I knew what to do, but it was hard to wrap my mind around the possibility of the timeline. I found my cancer one month after my 30th birthday and one month shy of my due date with my first baby. Five years later, that part of my journey continues to throw me. Instead of nesting, I was delivering early to begin chemo. I had no time for fertility treatments, breastfeeding, or truly bonding with my son, Caleb, which I so desperately was looking forward to. Instead, my fourth trimester was spent handing him to others, flinching during blood work, and running to the toilet. 

It was awful, but how lucky I was that so many people loved him and made sure he felt it. When chemo ended and I was hopeful I could make it up to him. Then Covid hit. Which, in a weird way, was a blessing for us. I literally no longer could leave him (aside for monthly maintenance treatments). The chaos that surrounded my cancer diagnosis ended. The expectations for life with a newborn started to be met.

It makes me nauseous when I think about all the pivotal time with Caleb I missed. He biologically and emotionally needed me, and I had to hand him off. He has an incredible bond with his Dad and extended family, and sometimes, I am jealous. But looking at him also makes me feel so proud. Proud of all the relationships he has with those outside our home. He’s Mr. Social and my symbol of resilience.

I did get somewhat of a “normal” experience with my almost two-year-old daughter, Cammy. She was able to drink milk from my one breast. She slept around the clock on my chest. She kept me up all night, with no one other than my husband to help. She also cries when I leave, something Caleb rarely does.

I have a lot of Big Cs in my life, and they all have shaped me. I wake most mornings worried the other shoe will drop. But I also wake covered in kisses. Sometimes cereal. And that is my story. And I still get to tell it. And for that, I am grateful.