My journey with breast cancer started on December 18, 2013.

While breastfeeding my 1-year-old daughter at the time, my hand ran across a large, hard lump in my right breast. At the very moment I hit it, it became very painful and the pain lasted for about two days. I thought it was a clogged milk duct, but over the course of two weeks, the lump only became more painful and increased in size day by day.

So, I finally decided to go to the emergency room. The midwife at the women’s hospital told me it was either a clogged milk duct or an infection breastfeeding mothers get sometimes. They sent me home with 800 mg. ibuprofen and scheduled me an appointment at my local breast imaging center.

It was there I was told I had an infection along with what appeared to be stage 0 breast cancer, which is “100% curable” they said. The imaging center said I needed to have a biopsy, but first the infection needed to be taken care of by way of antibiotics.

I went home somewhat relieved, but scared at the same time. Just the thought of any kind of breast cancer whatsoever scared me so bad because I witnessed my maternal grandmother, both maternal aunts and my mother, all go through breast cancer. Ultimately, my grandmother lost her battle, as did my oldest aunt. My youngest aunt is an 18-year survivor and my mother is a two-time survivor.

I felt like the tie breaker out the four — would I live or would I die?

After taking the antibiotics for one day, I had a horrible allergic reaction. After being put on a new antibiotic and being ordered to take it and return for a follow up, I noticed the pain and the size in the lump was still increasing. At my follow-up appointment, I saw a different doctor who told me what she saw in no way appeared to be an infection and we needed to do a biopsy immediately.

As I laid on the biopsy table, I looked at the mural of flowers in a field on the ceiling and at that very moment asked myself “what does this mean for my life?” I knew for sure that I would never forget how that field of flowers looked while I laid on that table. That picture remains etched in my brain, sort of like the words that would be heard on December 18, 2013.

The biopsy was done that day and I was asked if I wanted to call in to the office for my biopsy results or if I would like to come back into the office for them. Before I could state my decision the doctor said “I think coming back in would be best.”

I left the office and returned home to a lot of bad thoughts and a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. All night I worried and didn’t get any sleep. The stress of it all was so much to bare that upon returning to my appointment the next day, I somehow forgot my cell phone at home.

The doctors came in to talk to me as I was only accompanied by my 1-year-old daughter. The words that she said to me have forever changed my life, she looked at me and said,” It’s not good news. You have breast cancer.”

All I remember is looking at my baby sitting there and crying out, “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die”. My 1-year-old baby was my primary thought. Although I have three children including, a 17-year-old son and 15-year-old daughter, my 1-year-old child may have to grow up without me.

It was never “Oh, my God. Why is this happening to me,” but “Oh, my God. What about my baby?” How will losing me affect my children, especially my baby?

I was  terrified, sad, disappointed, confused and my thoughts were displaced. For a split second, I almost gave into my negative thoughts and manifestations birthed from planting those seeds of negativity the days prior. But instead, I decided to fight and not give into anything less than winning!

I told myself at that very moment, “Yes, I have breast cancer, but will I go out without a fight? NO I WILL NOT.” My kids need me. I’m treating cancer like a kidnapper or robber trying to steal me away from my children!

I really struggled with the decision of whether or not I wanted to share this on a social media site such as Facebook or Instagram and my decision was yes — every ache, every pain, every thought. I was going to share every single day I have been able to post.

I’ve made the decision to make this an informative, storytelling opportunity, instead of a death sentence or a “woe is me” type of situation. I’ve spent a lot of time meeting and conversing with people I come in contact with to share my journey and to be an encouragement, no matter what. 

It will be five years, this year in June 2019, since my life changed — not necessarily for the worst, but definitely for the better despite my lifetime stage 4 triple negative breast cancer patient title.

I’m more than a cancer patient. I’m a survivor.

Despite what statistics say I’m still beating the odds. I’m proud to announce next month, aside from being a 5-year-survivor, but I’ll be 40 years old as well — an age I honestly never thought I would see.

I’m just reaching a point in my life where I’m able to truly live my truth and that truth is although I’ve been surviving breast cancer, I’ve failed to live my life to fullest because I’ve subconsciously been afraid to truly enjoy the life that so many of my pink sister didn’t live long enough experience. It’s time that I start living this life I still have instead of just surviving cancer and beating the odds.