Diagnosed With Stage 4 Breast Cancer Weeks After Giving Birth

In February 2025, Eileen Carter felt a lump in her armpit. She was five or six months pregnant with her first child, and doctors attributed the lump to the pregnancy. Five weeks after her daughter, Rebekah, was born, Carter learned she had stage 3 invasive ductal carcinoma. Carter is a former preschool teacher from Hamilton, New Jersey. Two weeks after the first diagnosis, it was changed to stage 4 breast cancer that had spread to her liver. She was told she had two to three years to live and that standard treatment and surgery were not options.

Her husband, Jeffrey Carter, works as a clinical chaplain for Hackensack Meridian Health (HMH) Hospice and supports people at the end of life. He noticed right away when her care team’s language shifted from curative to palliative. The couple got second and third opinions and moved Eileen’s care to HMH Jersey Shore University Medical Center. According to the health system, chemotherapy shrank the tumor in her breast by 90%, and a planned liver procedure was no longer needed. A double mastectomy in March 2026 found no viable cancer remaining.

For Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Eileen and Jeff spoke with CURE® about getting a diagnosis while caring for a newborn and why they believe a second opinion saved her life. Jeff also described being a caregiver while helping other families through crises every day.

Life Before a Breast Cancer Diagnosis

Before we get into your diagnosis, tell me a little bit about yourself, your family and what life was like before February 2025.

Eileen: I’m 43 years old. I was a preschool teacher at our church’s school, where I taught 4- and 5-year-olds for about 10 years. I have my parents and an older brother. Jeff and I have been married for about 15 years. Thankfully, we have a good life. We have two dogs and a cat. I love to craft and create. We always like to go on adventures and do things, and we find time to build ourselves up and work together.

When a Breast Lump Is Mistaken for Pregnancy Changes

You first felt a lump while pregnant, and it was initially attributed to the pregnancy. What was that stretch like, and what made you keep pushing for answers?

Eileen: In February, I felt a lump in my armpit. I went to the doctor, and they did testing. They said it was most likely benign, probably just my body working through the pregnancy. I was five or six months pregnant at the time. Then, in March or April, I felt a mass in my breast that just kept growing. It was over half the size of my breast. I told my OB, and he said it was probably mastitis because I was so close to giving birth. We were first-time parents, so we had no idea what was going on, and I just went with it. I don’t think either of us was happy after that appointment, because I was very much dismissed. But we’re not doctors.

After I gave birth, they tried to start breastfeeding, and I couldn’t on one side. The nipple was inverted. Then they swarmed me. The day after I gave birth, I had ultrasounds while still in the hospital bed, and they still said it was probably edema or a benign mass. They couldn’t even define the mass, but one doctor said, “Why don’t we just get a biopsy, just in case?” So I got a biopsy, and five weeks postpartum, I was diagnosed with stage 3. Two weeks later, I was diagnosed with stage 4. That was the end of July.

A Chaplain’s Perspective as a Caregiver

Jeff, as a chaplain, you support patients and families through crises every day. What was it like to suddenly be on the other side as a caregiver?

Jeff: It’s interesting, because my work deals with end of life, so I hear certain terms a lot. I’m not saying I was OK with it, but I was OK knowing there were things we had to do and that we were going to get through this. When they gave her the stage 4 diagnosis, they switched their language from curative to palliative. Their approach went from “We’re going to do everything we can” to “We’ll do our best. We’ll see what happens.” From my experience, I could tell this was a change and they weren’t positive. So as a caregiver who is acutely aware of what’s going on in their minds, I was panicking. I was seeing that this was not going to go well for her and that these were not the best care options we could get. We needed to find someone who was actually going to try.

It’s absolutely devastating. Your mind goes blank. You don’t know what to do. You’re in a fog. It’s like walking through a tub of maple syrup. But you push on, and if you can find the right person and team who are willing to give you a hand and help pull you through, it makes all the difference.

Processing a Cancer Diagnosis With a Newborn

Eileen, you were diagnosed just weeks after Rebekah was born. How did you process that news while caring for a newborn?

Eileen: I basically just focused on her. I don’t have a whole lot of memory from back then. Postpartum, your brain is foggy to begin with, and I was trying to figure out newborn life. Then, with this diagnosis, my brain was on autopilot. I just made sure she was fed, she was clean and she was happy. The doctor would say, “You need to go here, do this,” and I just followed the list. I was incredibly emotional, being postpartum with this diagnosis. I kind of just cried through the whole thing.

They always say one day at a time. I was going one hour at a time, taking care of her and making sure Jeff was getting to work. I always tried to make sure everything was going to be OK. I focused my life on her, and it’s what got us through. Her smiles, her learning, her tiny growth cheered us up when we needed it. Like Jeff said, it was like walking through molasses, just trying to make it to the next day.

Why a Second Opinion Matters in Advanced Breast Cancer

You were told you had two to three years and that standard treatment and surgery were not options. What made you decide to seek a second opinion, and what would you say to someone who feels hesitant or guilty about getting one?

Eileen: It was 100% Jeff’s coworkers who got us to HMH. He was telling them what we were going through, and they kept saying, “Get a second opinion.” After we got that call with the two to three years, he said, “We’re going somewhere else.” I was willing to do whatever I could, because I wasn’t done. When they gave me two to three years, I had only had three weeks of chemotherapy, and I could physically feel that the mass had shrunk. So I thought, why are we here? Jeff’s coworkers gave us names, and we went to another place as well, so we had three opinions.

For anybody, even if you like where you are, get a second opinion, get a third opinion, so you know you’re getting the best care you possibly can. You never know what a hospital has available. I didn’t know Hackensack was a teaching hospital, so they are very up to date. Even if you love your doctors, it doesn’t hurt to get a second opinion. If you get one and you still like where you are, you’ve validated that you tried everything you possibly can.

Jeff: I’ll validate that. In these kinds of cases, you should always get a second opinion. Either it will validate that your doctor is good, or it will give you better insight. If we hadn’t done that, that team would have killed Eileen. She would not be alive today. We didn’t know any better. We would have just followed whatever they said. That second and third opinion completely framed why we needed to get away from them and get to HMH.

Eileen: It hurts nobody to get a second opinion. It’s not like you’re putting a dent into where you’re going. Just check, and validate what you’re feeling and what you’re doing.

Caregiver Stress and Finding Support

Jeff, what was the hardest part of caregiving for you, and who or what helped carry you through it?

Jeff: I’m a clinical chaplain, and in my own life, I’m Catholic, so my faith was a big part. I’m not ashamed to say I went through a crisis. Fortunately, I believe God is a big guy who knows me well, and I could yell at him a lot. That helped. My team carried me through: my colleagues, the chaplains at Jersey Shore, the hospice chaplains, the nurses and staff there, my bosses. They let me do what we needed to do to accompany Eileen, and we were very supported by family.

My job is to provide spiritual and emotional support in a very existential reality, through a lot of trauma and crises. I’m supposed to be able to go home and not have that. What I found was that I went home and was doing my job at home. I’m not complaining. I was happy to be there for my wife. But I went from patients at work to a patient at home. You learn the skills of the trade to blur the lines between what needs to be done and what you feel. You zone yourself out for the sake of the other person. I would have loved to come home and just break down into tears sometimes, but Eileen needed to talk about something, or there were treatment options to discuss. So it was, “OK, let’s have a talk. Let’s make sure we’re on the same page, that we’re going to move forward and that you’re OK.” Then I’d go to work and do it all over again.

The universe has a funny way of framing things. Right after we came to HMH and she got that wonderful [news], literally every patient I had was a recurrent cancer case at end of life. My colleagues, friends, family, church, everything just made it bearable long enough to get through it.

Managing Chemotherapy With an Infant at Home

Eileen, what did day-to-day life look like during chemotherapy with an infant at home, and what support systems stood out to you?

Eileen: Jeff was on point 24/7. Thankfully, our daughter is a good sleeper. She slept through the night pretty much from birth, which was beyond helpful. My parents have been a godsend. My aunt and my mom watched our daughter while I went to treatment, and my dad came with me to every appointment and every treatment. I had chemotherapy once a week for 12 weeks, then once every three weeks for 12 weeks. We live next door to my parents, so we could easily walk her over and drop her off. My sister-in-law and brother were always available to help if somebody had somewhere to be.

We have been incredibly blessed by our support system. A friend of mine labeled them our “prayer army.” People dropped off dinners for us and were always there if we needed them. Jeff’s coworkers, our church, friends and family got us through everything. If we didn’t have that extra push from everyone, we would have been floundering a lot more, especially with a newborn. It wasn’t just Jeff, me and Rebekah. It was my parents, his parents, our friends, our family, our neighbors. We did it together.

Thankfully, Rebekah is a very mild-mannered baby, and she still just goes with the flow. She’s young enough that she doesn’t understand what we’ve been through yet.

Advice for Partners of People With Advanced Cancer

Jeff, what advice would you give spouses or partners supporting someone with advanced cancer, especially while raising a young child?

Jeff: Listen. That’s good advice for anyone who’s married, but listen in the observant sense, too, because people don’t like to complain. They don’t like to think they’re burdens. Even with a massive support system, being diagnosed with a terminal illness is one of the most isolating feelings in the world. Surrounded by support, you still feel like you’re by yourself, because you’re the one going through it.

As a spouse, you need to be aware of what your spouse needs, especially with a young child. If you work all day and your spouse is dealing with an illness, it seems natural to come home and help. Sometimes that’s exactly what Eileen needed. Other times, Eileen needed to be caring for our child, because it gave her a sense of accomplishment and purpose at a time when there wasn’t much for her to do other than fight. Listening, being aware and letting your spouse communicate, both verbally and in how they’re acting, means you’re a team.

The stress is going to be on you, too. You have to have people to go to, people to talk to and things to do that give you an opportunity to be strong when there’s very little downtime. You’re always working: at work, at home, caring for the child. That stress comes naturally, and it has to be managed. There’s no right or wrong way to do it. I guess the wrong way is just powering through and hoping for the best. But as long as you’re trying, you’re there for the other person, and it makes it a little easier for them to know they’re not alone, even when they feel by themselves.

Life on Maintenance Therapy After Breast Cancer Surgery

Eileen, what does survivorship look like for you now?

Eileen: I’m doing immunotherapy with Keytruda (pembrolizumab) every three weeks. I have the option to do it every six weeks, but right now I do three. I go to physical therapy every week to prevent lymphedema, since I had lymph nodes removed. Side effects-wise, I’m achy, and every once in a while, I get really tired. Thankfully, I didn’t have severe side effects from chemotherapy. It was mostly overall tiredness. Now it’s more of an achy feeling. I’m slowly getting my stamina back, which is wonderful. I feel like I can accomplish things around the house again.

I have scans every three months: a CT scan twice a year and an MRI twice a year, alternating. All three of my doctors check them, so everyone’s on the same page. It has worked out positively so far, so fingers crossed we continue on that route.

How Caregiving Changed a Chaplain’s Ministry

Jeff, how has this experience changed how you support others?

Jeff: A clinical chaplain’s job is to empathize. We go through intensive training, because what you say is how you relate. One of the more powerful things we’re taught is how to make a person feel understood by someone who is completely removed from the situation. There are things we say rhetorically, just for the benefit of the person going through it. I still use the same words, because there’s nothing else you can say. But I recognize how hollow they really are, and that while they serve a purpose, that’s not where it should stop.

It has been a great boon to my ministry. I’d rather not have learned it this way. You can’t just say some nice words and act like everything’s OK. It’s not OK. It’s never going to be OK. Even when everything is said and done, whether they make it through or not, it’s still something they went through. Now I’ve added, “I know this doesn’t make you feel any better. Nothing will.” Then I keep going and try to bridge some sort of gap so they don’t feel alone.

When I discussed this with my mentor, he said that’s what I’d take away. The things you go through with your spouse teach you how to better relate to people going through any kind of crisis. We’re fortunate. Eileen had a good outcome. Not everyone is so fortunate, and there is a right way to engage them, so we’re not just placating them and they feel they have a resource in chaplains. That goes for staff, too. I didn’t realize how much staff can be affected by what goes on around them. When they see patients long term, they get attached. They’re only human. When treatment works, they get excited just like we do, and when it doesn’t, they get sad just like we do. This has greatly improved my ability to appreciate what different people are going through.

Connecting With Others Who Have Breast Cancer

Is there anything else you’d like to add?

Eileen: Other than always getting a second opinion, talk to your doctors, and talk to somebody who can connect you with other people going through it. One of our neighbors has a niece out in California who was going through the same thing, a couple of months ahead of me. Talking to her was so comforting. Jeff, my parents and my family were all going through it with me, but like Jeff said, you can be surrounded by so much love and still feel incredibly alone. Having somebody going through it, too, made such a difference in my mental health. Someone who can say, “It’s OK to feel that way. That’s normal. That’s what I felt as well.” It truly changes everything.

Jeff: That would also be my advice: Seek out a support system for any diagnosis, any treatment. It could be minor or major, terminal or temporary. And not just one or two people. Seek out a robust system. It’s uncomfortable, and you might wonder how it’s going to help. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you get to express yourself and hear different perspectives. Some people will help you persevere in the moment and say, “It’s OK, you’ll be fine.” Others will say, “You might not be fine, but let’s look for silver linings.”

Find a focus, something to get you to the next moment. Everyone always says Eileen was so strong and did so amazing, and she looks at them with this bewildered face and says, “I had a daughter. What else was I supposed to do?” That’s because she had that focus. She had something to strive for, and that gave me something to strive for, because I wanted her to see our daughter grow up. You have to have support, you have to have focus and you have to know that even when there seems to be no hope, there’s always a next step. It’s just hard to see.

This transcript was edited for clarity and conciseness.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don't forget to subscribe to CURE®'s newsletters here.