At age 26, I was on my own, self-sufficient, secure and independent. I was already a few years into building my career as an adolescent therapist; a job that well suited me. I had my own apartment, and was about to move in with my boyfriend of several years. I took care of myself physically and emotionally. Life was pretty perfect, until the routine trip to the gynecologist that wound up saving my life.
When you hear the words, "you have cancer," there is truly no way to be prepared to absorb all that comes with it. My now unstable life became filled with terms like prognosis, oncologist, surgery, treatment and chemo. My doctors overwhelmed me with choices about what course of action to take. Suddenly, my secure sense of self became unraveled and presented me with a new identity – cancer patient. My oncologists' (who are wonderful) main goal was to rid me of cancer as quickly as possible. The recommended course of action when diagnosed with ovarian cancer is to have a complete hysterectomy.
Being only 26, the idea of parenthood wasn't even on my radar yet. But suddenly I felt forced to think about my fertility and my options. I was then hit with a double whammy: the idea that my cancer might render me infertile. I stressed to my doctors that while clearly the primary focus is to rid myself of cancer; I wanted them to make every attempt at preserving my fertility.
Over the course of seven months, I endured three surgeries and six rounds of chemotherapy. The treatment took my hair, put my body in menopause, and left me feeling twice my age. Unfortunately, the doctors weren't able to save my ovaries. I recovered and slowly acclimated to my new normal – survivor.
As I moved further away from my date of diagnosis, I became more accepting of my life as a survivor and it became less scary to invest in the idea of leading a longer, healthy life. My then boyfriend and I were married in 2005, and after several years were comfortable exploring the idea of having a family. I had come to terms with the loss of my fertility and began exploring my options to become a parent. I reached out to my oncologist and my supports in the cancer community about surrogacy and adoption.
I feared that with adoption, I might be discriminated against due to my cancer history and therefore it felt safer to me to explore the world of surrogacy. I also liked the idea that though our child might not be genetically mine; they could still be connected to my husband. As we researched, it quickly became apparent that there was a lack of information about surrogacy.
We met with a few agencies and decided on Circle Surrogacy in guiding us through this process. We signed our contract with them and moved on to the matching process. Within four months of meeting our surrogate, we were expecting our son. The entire experience felt "right," as I believe this is the way we were intended to become a family. Our surrogate is truly an amazing woman, who we felt connected to from the start. Going into the experience, I had some anxiety about feeling envious or jealousy toward our surrogate as she was able to bring our child into this world; something that I couldn't do. I remember feeling surprised that I didn't feel this way toward her at all. As we were awaiting the arrival of our son, I felt humbled and grateful that she was doing this for us.
The day our son was born was truly the most amazing day of my life. It was as if all the struggle, loss and upset caused by cancer had been undone, or perhaps more so, solidified the reason for the journey.
As I reflected on the experience, I remained troubled by the idea that there was little information in the cancer community about surrogacy. I began exploring ways to get information about this amazing way to become a parent after cancer to survivors. I am fortunate to have made this a career goal and work now as an outreach coordinator to educate others about surrogacy.
Though being a cancer survivor is membership to a club I never wanted; I wouldn't say that cancer was the worst thing that happened to me. How could that be when it has brought so much to my life both personally and professionally?
Jen Rachman is a social worker from New York City. She is a 10-year ovarian cancer survivor having been diagnosed at age 26 and a parent through surrogacy. She is currently working as an outreach coordinator for Circle Surrogacy to educate survivors about this family building option after cancer.