It’s difficult to describe all the human emotion felt in the past two weeks.  We have been on a roller coaster.

Ordinary moments with the kids have taken on a depth of joy and delight that is sweet.  A friend who walked this road two years ago said, “the world is in technicolor all of a sudden.” Such a good description.

There have been many moments of sadness.  Most have to do with crossing bridges we don’t need to cross.  And I push them away with God’s help, and remain in the present.

Matthew 6:33-34:

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.   Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

But some are things that need to be mourned.  Nursing Kai, for example.  From the Monday afternoon of the abnormal ultrasound / mammogram until last Friday when I heard the results confirmed, every time I nursed Kai was bittersweet.  I’ve loved nursing our babies.  It’s a really special bond; a time to cuddle my beautiful baby close, study the sweet little baby features, and pray for his or her future.

As soon as I heard the biopsy results, I asked both the radiologist and oncologist about nursing.  They both agreed future scans (Breast MRI, PET scan, etc) would be much more clear if I was not breast-feeding.  Ready to do anything I can in this fight, I decided to stop immediately.  It was Friday at 4pm, so Gabe and I drove straight to my OB’s office to ask for advice on weaning.

We were wrapping up a discussion in her office about weaning, my diagnosis, etc, when a terrifying question came to mind.  Could I be pregnant?

It had come to mind many times in the few days between the mammogram and the results.  At the risk of being too personal, I have not gotten my cycle back since Kai was born almost 9 months ago.  With our other children, it returned when the babies were 6 months old and we introduced purees into their diet.  So though logic told me that I was not, it was a question that had haunted me that week.  Since it fell in the “don’t cross bridges you don’t need to cross” and “take one day at a time” category, I had not allowed myself to dwell on that question until hearing the biopsy results.

I voiced my concern to my OB, who said she could do a pregnancy test for me in the office.  I wrestled for a moment.  I honestly did not know if I could handle the news if I was.  We had been told my cancer is “rapid growth” (Her2/neu positive).  The mass is already large.  7 cm by 5 cm.  It is in at least one lymph node.

Though this may be incorrect, I felt like if I was pregnant, it could likely mean the choice between my life and our baby’s.  EVERYTHING in me longs to stay with Gabe, Abby, Will, Nate, and Kai. To be here for every milestone, every boo-boo, every little talk that lets me hear inside their precious little hearts. There is absolutely nothing I want more.  But what if I was expecting a 5^th little child?  Another precious little son or daughter of mine & Gabe’s.  A new little brother or sister for Abby, Will, Nate & Kai.  Though it felt overwhelmingly impossible,  I knew that I would choose to give him or her life.

As we waited for the results, I agonized.  I begged Gabe to pray for me.  It was the longest 15 minutes of my life.  The technician must have been prepped by the doctor.  As she rounded the corner, she was already saying the words I longed to hear, “Mrs. Chong, it’s negative.   You’re not pregnant.”    I wept.

God is so gracious to us.  He has given me the freedom to fight.  That is truly the biggest gift I could be given on this journey.  We are so thankful.

And look at this picture:  Abby’s first time feeding Kai a bottle.  If you’ve got to stop nursing your baby boy, that’s a pretty good consolation prize!