Only My Body
Only my body
knows the anxious feeling of being in a large group of people.
Only my body
knows the depressed feeling of being alone.
Only my body
knows the deep feeling of not being good enough.
Only my body
knows the butterfly feeling of excitement when something goes right.
Only my body
knows the lump in the throat, shortness of breath, the racing heart, the pit in the stomach, the tension in the shoulders, the panic and trembling. (Sometimes it’s an anxiety attack and other it’s a panic attack)
Only my body
knows the scary feeling of finding a hard, yet painful lump on the right breast and on the right arm pit.
Only my body
knows the harsh feeling of hearing the words “you have cancer.” (after 3 biopsies, mammogram and ultrasound in 3 hours).
Only my body
knows the sharp words from a family member “I’m a survivor too”.
Only my body
knows the toxic side effects of chemo treatment; the awful melted butter taste on my tongue.
Only my body
knows the fuzzy feeling of a scalp sans long beautiful blonde locks.
Only my body
knows the deep scars that cover its core and the sides where the surgery drains hung.
Only my body
knows the unique pain from breast surgery and the lack of feeling replacing the breast tissue it once had.
Only my body
knows the small tattoo between my implants that marks where the radiation form laid tight.
Only my body
knows the burning effects from radiation.
Only my body
knows the feeling of loss and discomfort at work, with friends and family.
Only my body
knows the waterfall of emotions that poured out the first time sitting one on one with a
therapist after a year of cancer treatment.
Only my body
knows the terrifying words and all the feels “you may never carry your own child” can bring.
Only my body
knows the defeated feeling of using a gestational carrier and a failed transfer of 2 embryos.
Only my body
knows the exhausting process of a second embryo transfer and getting there with a beautiful
nurse who chose our baby to carry for 9 months and keep healthy.
Only my body
knows the tornado of emotions getting to the delivery date of our beautiful angel – Matilda
Elizabeth – in Winston Salem, NC after a 12 hour drive.
Only my body
knows the love that filled each crevice of my skeleton allowing me to show my daughter how
much she means to me.
Only my body
knows the feeling of support I felt as new friends (thanks to my baby girl) entered my life
listening to my story and accepting me for who I am.
Only my body
knows the tears that form every time I think about the highs and lows, milestones and loses over the years that have gotten me here.
Only my body
knows the awkward feeling of an ovarian ultrasound scanning the ovaries – after a few years
only one remained due to the removal of one with the fallopian tubes) - and dreading the
question about a feminine cycle (knowing it was the week chemo started).
Only my body
knows the relaxation it began to feel as I began to follow holistic healing processes before they
became a national phenomenon – yoga, acupuncture, herbs.
Only my body
knows the torture and grief after 2 failed embryo transfers and a miscarriage all while feeling
the emotions of still not being able to carry a child naturally.
Only my body
Knows how much words can hurt when said by those you thought were there to support you no matter what.
Only my body
Knows the damage that can be felt when told to “just get over it.”
Only my body
Knows the shame when your body isn’t fit for carrying a human no matter how many blood
tests, IVF treatments attempted.
Only my body
Knows the empty feeling of each one of the reproductive organs being removed – the ovaries,
fillopean tubs, uterus and cervix- because of a genetic predisposition.
Only my body
Knows the 5 scars that circle the belly button (and on belly button) to reduce the risk of future cancer- ovarian and pancreatic.
Only my body
Knows how the words “oh you doing great” and “glad you are fine”- when all it wants to do is
shout “I’m not fine.”
Only my body
knows the intense anxiety that it is filled with when you are 8 hours away from your baby who is being carried by another incredible gestational carrier and you have no control again of what’s next.
Only my body
Knows the intense feeling of patiently waiting for baby boy to enter the crazy, scary world.
Only my body
Knows the wavering emotions of being at the hospital in Kansas City, MO (Independence to be exact); in a room filled with soft guitar music while tears are streaming down the cheeks waiting for your baby to arrive after 3.5 years.
Only my body
Knows that a cancer diagnosis turns your world upside down and there is no such thing as NED (no evidence of disease) and done.
Only my body
knows what it’s been through, the challenges, the risks, the grief, the celebrations, the struggles, the love, the loss, the scares and the healing. All these things and more to come.
Only my body
knows what it’s like to be me. The me I am now that has grown so much over the years. It has slowly removed the negative energy built up inside and is living as healthy as it can. I’m dang proud of this BODY!
Only my body
knows the love that fills my heart every day that I look at my husband’s blue eyes, my daughter and son’s blue eyes and know that I have gotten here because of them and for them. IT hasn’t been easy. I am truly grateful for it all – the highs and the lows. I know that it’s possible to celebrate and be thankful, but also welcome the sadness and grief. I know we will all get through it as a family with fun, laughter, traveling, exploring, singing, dancing and showing each other love. So much love that our bodies will hurt. It’ll be the best impression anybody has ever felt.
Photography Credit (photos in book): Jen Rosenbaum, Jen Rozenbaum | A Boudoir Photographer