Beauty: Cheap thrills
When Tessa Roszkowski was diagnosed with cancer while pregnant, she could have fallen apart. Instead, she’s taken back control of her body…
All parents think their children are little miracles, but there’s no doubt that my daughter, Isabella, really is the gift I never thought I’d have.
Every day my husband Marc, 45, and I relish giving her a bath or pushing her on the swings, and other moments parents often take for granted. For years, we doubted we’d ever be lucky enough to experience them.
Marc and I had always wanted children but, because I suffer from endometriosis [a condition whereby tissue like that in the womb is found in other areas of the body], we knew it might take time for me to conceive.
We started trying when I was 34 and, after several years, many gruelling operations and three rounds of IVF, I still wasn’t pregnant.
‘ What if it never happens?’ I sobbed to Marc. My longheld dream of one day cradling my baby seemed it would stay just that – a dream.
Along with the embryos that hadn’t taken, doctors had managed to save a viable one from the last round of IVF.
But the stress of it had all got too much for us, so we decided to take a break.
In September 2011, we flew to Hawaii for Marc’s 40th birthday, and got engaged.
We got married in August 2013, then booked an amazing honeymoon in the Seychelles. It was lovely to focus on something else for a change.
By the time we returned, we felt strong enough to embark on our fourth attempt at IVF, with new embryos.
When that failed, we looked into adoption, but then the IVF clinic phoned to say that storage time was running out for our remaining embryos.
I was now 39. So, knowing it could be our last chance, we decided to go for it.
Just days after undergoing the embryo transfer in June 2015, the clinic called to say I was pregnant.
‘ You’re wrong,’ I stammered. ‘Those are someone else’s results…’ After all this time, could it really be true?
It was and, at just six days pregnant, we saw proof on the screen at our first scan, and every two weeks afterwards.
I’d never felt excitement like it, and couldn’t wait to start telling people.
But, in July 2015, I was in the shower when I felt a lump just above my left nipple.
Yet, even when the ultrasound technician found two further lumps, I felt strangely calm. Surely nothing could go wrong now that everything was finally
going right?
But when Marc and I went in for my biopsy results, six medics were waiting for us.
‘It’s breast cancer,’ the consultant confirmed.
A layer of numbness cloaked me, and I only snapped back to reality when the doctors started questioning whether we should continue the pregnancy.
‘ We’re having this baby!’ I insisted.
I was referred to a pregnancy and cancer specialist at London’s Royal Free Hospital, where they recommended a type of chemo that had less chance of harming my unborn baby.
It was gruelling, but regular scans showed the baby was thriving. But we couldn’t be as sure about me. While pregnant, I couldn’t undergo a fullbody scan to see whether the cancer was spreading. All we could do was wait. At 28 weeks pregnant, I underwent a mastectomy to remove my left breast and, when I was 30 weeks and five days, in December 2015, I gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl via C-section. I was only allowed to hold Isabella briefly before she was whisked off to intensive care. But it was long enough for us to fall in love. All that I wanted to do was be with my baby, but I had to start a more aggressive form of chemo – after the longawaited body scan.
Waiting for the results was torture but, miraculously, the cancer hadn’t spread.
Finally, in February 2016, we were allowed to bring Isabella home. I finished chemotherapy in April, then started a three-week block of radiotherapy.
Now, I take hormones to try to prevent secondary cancer.
The doctors also gave me injections to put my body into menopause, closing down my ovaries so the cancer can’t spread, meaning I’ll never be able to conceive again. And while I’m sad that I’ll never be able to give Isabella a little brother or sister, my focus is on her and Marc now.
I’m also going to have my right breast removed. Although this would be devastating for some women, I’m actually excited. It’s my way of taking back control of my body from cancer – of ensuring I stay alive for myself, Marc and my little girl.
Not that I’m saying that what happened has been easy. Now that it’s over, exactly what I’ve been through has hit me and I’ve seen a psychologist to help me come to terms with it all.
Also, since being declared cancer-free, I found a lump in my right breast in October, and one in my neck in December. Thankfully, both were benign. I have twice-yearly scans and, so far, all have come back clear.
Marc and I are considering using a surrogate, along with a donor egg, to try for another baby. There is so much for us to look forward to. At the forefront of everything, though, is our feisty, fiery Isabella. Because she was premature, she’s tiny, but already her determined personality is shining through. Now one-and-a-half, she loves cartoons on TV and flicking through books. I could spend all day watching her.
In a way, cancer has made me realise just how special being a mummy is and, at 41, I refuse to let fear about what could happen affect our happy family in any way.
We waited for so many years and fought so hard to have our beautiful daughter. Now we have her, I’ll never take motherhood for granted.
Breast Cancer Now is the UK’s largest breast cancer charity, dedicated to funding research. Visit breastcancernow.org
‘I’m actually excited by the fact I’m having my right breast removed’