The last thing in the world I wanted to do was spread the news to . . . well . . . anybody. I felt defeated, alone, and so angry. I sent a few quick text messages to the very few people who knew about the biopsy. After we met with Dr. DJ and I had my mammogram I knew I had to call my mom.
Cue the worst moment so far. I called her after work because I didn't want this to wait. She isn't always the easiest to get a hold of during the day, but I told her receptionist that I needed to talk to her because it was urgent. I asked her to find a spot alone and sit down. She told me she was sitting--liar--and I recapped the chain of events. I told her about the lump, the subsequent appointment, the ultrasound, the biopsy, and last the results. I cried through the whole thing and when I was finished my mom, who is a pillar of strength and will power, was crying so hard it was hard to understand her words.
Telling your mom, who has already buried a child, that one of her children have cancer was awful. If I could do anything in this world, it would be to make her heart feel whole again. She has lost a chunk of her heart when Jason died and I feel like I ripped out another piece and placed and unnecessary burden on her. But, in the true Montana way, she pulled up her boot straps and said, "Nicole, it will be ok. It has to be." From from over 600 miles away I felt safe.
Sam and I went to my work and broke the news. I shared in tears and hugs with a lot of my coworkers and then we went to his parents' house. On the way there I called one of my best girl friends. She cried in her cube at work and assured me God was with us and would protect us. Sam called his mom on the way to the house so she knew by the time we opened the door to get Camden. She wrapped her arms around me like only a mother could. If I can't have my mom here, I am so glad I have Sam's mom. She makes me feel like her own and part of the family.
We left and went home. I text our next door neighbors whom we have dinner with about once a week. as some of our best friends this news was very hard to break. The W's say on the love seat together after I greeted them with a beer at the door--hey I think this news called for a drink--J cried and M wiped tears from his eyes. I mean, you are supposed to tell your friends you are pregnant or even that you are getting divorced. I never thought we would have to tell our friends that I have cancer.
Probably the one phone call I was dreading the most was to my baby sister. She doesn't know it, but she is my strength and my rock. She is a roll model for me even though she is six years younger. She has been through so much and has to grow up so quickly. I just want her to be able to live her childhood and not deal with the real world quite yet. She was in class, but stepped out and called me after I had text her that I needed to talk to her. She knew about the biopsy so I quickly told her the results. She cried, hyperventilated, and cried some more. I never in my life wanted to cause her this pain. Never. Ever. Even when we would bite each other growing up.
I hung up the phone with my sister and cried in Camden's nursery from the very chair I nursed him in and have rocked him to sleep. Realizing he will be my only child I will ever breastfeed and very well may be my only child ever.
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