I couldn’t help but laugh when I had to sign away my left and right breast at my pre-op appointment. Literally, I signed a form that allows the surgeon to remove both the left and right breast. It’s not funny. I don’t know why I laughed, John and the nurse didn’t seem as amused. I’m guessing most people are pretty upset when signing that form. I wasn’t happy about it either but I have no other choice and it’s time to do the damn thing. 

As of right now, I am scheduled as an outpatient, meaning I will go home the same day of surgery. Of course, this can all change depending on how things go. I wouldn’t be mad if they made me stay overnight. I mean, no matter where I am, I’ll be drugged up on pain meds and uncomfortable so why not be in a place where they can monitor me….and nurses can do the dirty work of emptying my drains. 

Yes, drains. I will have at least a couple of drains coming out of me. This is where nurse John will play a major roll and will be helping me empty them. The drains will stay in as long as I am still producing “stuff”. 

Oh and if anyone was interested, my white blood cell count……..went down even more after my second blood draw. So I am back on those shots to stimulate the growth of white blood cells. Only 3 days worth so not too bad. Medicine is pretty crazy huh? 

Today was the first day I actually got a nervous stomach (and that weird urge to pee) when I thought about surgery. Luckily today I also had the pleasure of meeting with a bunch of fellow survivor sisters. I’ve said it before, people come into your life right when you need them. Today was no exception. These women, in all stages of survivorhood, made me feel powerful. And so supported. I am beyond thankful to have met them all. 
Tomorrow, John and I will be leaving the boys with his parents for a week. It makes me sad and I will totally miss them but they don’t need to see me like that. I won’t be able to hold them so it would just be a tease… for us all. That week separation might just be the hardest part of the whole surgery thing. Pain- I can tolerate. Not having my babies will be rough. Not having my boobies, well shit, that’s going to be rough too. 

Tuesday, I’m ready for you. 

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.