In Which My Daughter Saves My Life
It is impossible to write about how I arrived at this point in my life without also talking about my peculiar medical story and how my daughter saved my life.
Somewhere along the way, Childhood Jac decided that writing was not a viable career option. I thought that you had to be successful on the level of someone like Stephen King, basically a household name, to support yourself with writing. So silly. Anyway, I dithered back and forth about a couple of career options until I finally landed on social work. How I got to that is another long story in and of itself, so we'll skip it for now.
Fast forward to twenty-something me. I had a degree in Human Services and a burning desire to Save The World. I worked for a couple of grueling years in social work until I was totally burned out and facing some weird medical issues, from floaters in my vision to unexplained rashes.
Then my hair fell out.
All of it.
In a matter four weeks, I went from a normal amount of hair to completely bald. I had no eyebrows. I had no eyelashes.
I also had a long list of doctor's appointments and no answers. I later learned that I had Alopecia Universalis. Way later.
I should take a moment to talk about how awesome my husband was. I was working a full-time job that made me miserable. I loved the kids but hated the systems I was constantly interacting with. I still believed in the importance of social work. But I could no longer personally do the work. I was losing myself in the process, a cost much too high. I began to realize that a big part of why I stayed on the job was because I was afraid of the financial repercussions of quitting. One day my husband said to me, "You're just doing this for the money now. Is money worth this?" The answer, of course, was no. I put in my notice a few days after that conversation. Jeff, my husband, supported me through it all.
So one of the various lab tests suggested that I might have a hormone imbalance. Might. I was referred to the Women's Clinic. There I was told to be as "hormone free as possible" including quitting my birth control. And I did.
I didn't have a hormone imbalance. I immediately got pregnant.
I went to my first ultrasound. The technician kept taking pictures. Frowning. Taking more pictures. Then we were presented with those first precious images of our lovely daughter. When I got to my ob/gyn, I got the next bit of news. In addition to my daughter, I was also carrying around a large unidentifiable mass in my abdomen.
At first, I was terrified. Okay, for most of my pregnancy I was scared. No one could tell me what was happening with my body. All of my blood tests were crazy because of my pregnancy. I saw multiple specialists who all just looked over my file and shrugged their shoulders. My ob/gyn posited that it was likely an enlarged ovary. After the baby was born, they would simply remove it. No big deal.
My child was born, healthy, happy (and hairy, unlike me)! She was also an impressively large baby at 9 1/2 lbs. And if you want proof, here is a picture of me, fully pregnant and completely bald. I gave birth about two weeks after this picture.
In the end, it was not an enlarged ovary. I had an enlarged lymph node. I also had Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma that had already gone untreated for a year, while I carried my child.
If it had not been for my daughter's odd conception, I don't know how long it would have taken for me to learn that I had cancer. Up til the day I started treatment (a further four months after the diagnosis), I had no symptoms associated with that cancer, except for the occasional cold chill. By the time I started treatment, I was stage 4. Getting pregnant with my daughter most likely saved my life.
To say that undergoing chemo in those circumstances was daunting is a vast understatement. But I did it, with the help of my wonderful family and the grace of God. Alice is healthy and now, so am I.
What does this have to do with writing?
If all of this hadn't happened, I would probably still be wearing myself down trying to make it work with a job I didn't love. While in that profession, I lost touch with the things that I loved, writing, reading, dancing and just generally enjoying life. I had stopped spending time with friends, even. After facing cancer and meeting my beautiful daughter, I learned quickly that life is short. Why waste away what years I have in misery?
I knew I wanted to write, but I'd given up on that dream. I believe God gave me that dream back. And because I'd been through so much, I was more than ready for it! I consider it a great privilege in my life to do what I love for my profession, seconded only by the privilege of motherhood.
I have no regrets. Every sweet soul I met through social work informs my writing now. Every fear for myself and my child through cancer teaches me how to write a fuller character on the page. Every sidestep in my own journey shows me how the fictional journeys we write can't be a straight line either. I follow the story, because in life, we don't get to plan it out. There have been struggles and joys for me along the way, but I'd change none of it. The struggles are beautiful, lending color to the joys.
The real question is, how can I not write, when I've been given so much?