My bilateral mastectomy has been scheduled for March 21st. With this date slowly approaching, I’m beginning to grieve the loss of my breasts. Now it’s real, no longer this ‘thing’ that’s going to happen sometime in the future.
I find myself noticing how clothes fit me and wondering how it will change. When I put on a top, I admire how the fabric clings to my curves, how feminine I feel. Will I still feel this way when I’m completely flat? When my children rest their heads on my chest, I feel motherly and nurturing. I worry that I won’t feel as inviting to them. Or will they even notice? Anxiety has been filling my days since we scheduled. It’s the same anxiety I felt when we scheduled my induction date with Wyatt. I know it’s coming but I don’t know when I’ll feel ready.
I’m typically a happy person, a people pleaser. I usually hate confrontation. It makes me super uncomfortable. But as of late, I feel myself wanting to picks fights. With people I know. With complete strangers. Anyone really. I guess I’m angry and I want people to know it. I feel like I am about to lose a big piece of me. I know, they are just breasts. But fuck. And because I am BRCA 1 positive, I will have a total hysterectomy including my ovaries and tubes later this year. Removing more of my body and sending me straight into menopause. Thankfully, I believe that my body is just a vessel for my soul. And the soul is the good shit. This belief makes it all a little easier (not the menopause part) but, again, fuck.
Even if I do decide on reconstruction, I don’t have that option until late this year so I still need to get used to the fact that I will not have breasts. And even then, reconstructed breasts will not be my breasts. Because of this, I have decided to document my mom-boobs before they are no-boobs with some professional photos.
Weird? Maybe. But it’s me and not you. So get over it. ( Ugghhhh, there I go again, trying to pick a fight) Looking back, I am so thankful for the couple of random breastfeeding pics John took of me and Harlon. And for the few that were taken the day of Wyatt’s newborn photo shoot. Even though in the moments I felt silly, I love them. My body has been amazing and I am proud of it and I don’t ever want to forget it.
I’ve put a lot of thought into this decision. I questioned if I’d ever really want to look back at them. They aren’t the perky girls they once were. But damn it, whose are? So yes, I want this. Not to look back on and be sad but to remember our glory days and be proud. Or maybe I’ll put them in a drawer and forget about them and one day one of my kids will stumble upon them. That will be a fun conversation.
At my surgery appointment last week, I also learned that my port will most likely be removed at the time of my mastectomy. At first this worried me. Like my safety net, my quick chemo fix option, would be gone. But that feeling has passed. I don’t want to put that energy out there. I will not need to have chemo anymore, therefore, I do not need a port. Right?
Anyways, enough depressing shit. Did I tell you guys that we are going to The Total Package Tour in June?! What’s this you ask? Oh, it’s only….New Kids on the Block with Paula Abdul and Boyz II Men 🙌🏻 Hells yeah.