Mummy’s hope
Shakardokht Jafari, 42, from Portsmouth, thought she had to terminate her baby…
Sitting in the living room, I feel a wave of panic and fear hit me. ‘Post-traumatic stress is very common,’ doctors had told me.
Sometimes, I can go from being happy and peaceful to worried and sad in seconds.
But every time I feel that way, I just look at my little boy.
And instantly, the anxiety washes away.
Sina, two, is my baby of hope. He distracts me from my life-changing diagnosis…
In September
2018, I was having a shower when I noticed a lump on my breast.
‘You should go to the GP,’ my husband Ibrahim, 46, said.
I booked an appointment straight away, and saw my GP two days later.
‘It’s probably nothing to worry about, but let’s get you checked to be sure,’ she said.
I was referred to a breast clinic, where I had a mammogram.
Looking at the scan on the screen, I knew what they were about to tell me.
As a healthcare professional myself, I spotted that my lymph nodes were visible on the mammogram. It was worrying. ‘We are booking you in for an emergency biopsy,’ the consultant told me.
Lying on the hospital bed, as they took a sample of my breast tissue to examine , I prayed that everything would be okay.
When my biopsy came back, my surgeon diagnosed me: ‘You have
Stage 2 breast cancer.’
It was aggressive.
I sat in a blur as he explained my treatment plan.
Then I went home and broke the news to my two girls, Sara, then 17, and Zahra, then 15.
We promised to get through this together.
Two days later, a nurse called me with a few follow-up treatment questions.
Just before she put the phone down, she asked: ‘Are you pregnant?’
‘I’m sure I’m not,’ I replied.
‘But I am a couple of days late.’
‘You need to do a pregnancy test urgently,’ she said.
We had been trying for a baby for 12 years, and I’d resigned myself that it wouldn’t happen.
Looking at the plastic stick in my bathroom, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I waited for Ibrahim to come home from work to tell him. ‘It’s positive,’ I said.
Our luck had come at the wrong time.
‘I’m pregnant,’ I told my GP anxiously on the phone.
The next day, I went in for a blood test, which confirmed the pregnancy.
I was in such a dilemma. There’s no way the baby would survive, I thought.
‘We’ll have to abort it,’ I cried to Ibrahim.
That night, I arranged to have a termination the following week.
After trying for so long, we were both devastated.
I thought the baby would be in danger during my cancer treatment, and I needed to prioritise my two older girls.
At the same time, I was worried that the lump in my breast was growing rapidly.
‘Can I please book an urgent consultation to check if the surgery needs to be bought forward?’ I asked the hospital.
My emergency appointment was with a different surgeon, called Dr Masooma Zaidi.
‘Is your baby unwanted?’ she asked me.
‘No, we have been trying for years years!’ I explained.
It was so unfortunate. ‘Did you know that you can keep the baby?’ she asked.
‘We can rearrange your treatment plan to suit the pregnancy,’ she said.
Dr Zaidi continued to
We’d been trying for a baby for 12 years
explain that most medics believed it wouldn’t be possible to carry a healthy baby through chemotherapy, but recent research had confirmed it could be done.
‘I didn’t know it was an option!’ I replied, in shock.
Hesitant, my priority had to be my own treatment.
I wanted to be around for my family, even if that meant losing my baby.
‘Please rethink your options,’ she advised. ‘We can rearrange your treatment plan.’
I returned home and discussed it with my family.
‘In a worst-case scenario, you could be left with a baby without a mum,’ I said.
‘We are grown up enough to take the responsibility,’ my girls agreed.
With the support of my family family, I decided: ‘I’m going to keep the baby.’
I still went to the termination session, to fill out the documents as a back-up.
My surgery had a high risk of miscarriage or still birth.
‘We will take it one step at a time, and check the baby regularly,’ Dr Zaidi told me.
When I was seven weeks pregnant, I had a mastectomy to remove the lump and lymph nodes.
On 3 December, I had my 12-week scan.
‘He’s got two arms and two legs,’ I cried.
You can’t imagine how happy I was.
Finally, we could announce our pregnancy to our family and friends.
And my six rounds of chemotherapy began.
Whilst doctors reassured me that my baby would be healthy, I wasn’t convinced.
Searching for Macmillan Cancer support online, I came across the Mummy’s Star Facebook page.
It was a forum specifically for women diagnosed with cancer in pregnancy or within the first year.
This is just what I need! thought, looking through it. I was accepted into the Facebook group, and straight away I felt reassured. Looking through photos of healthy babies, it was all extremely positive. ‘They can live a normal life,’ I told Ibrahim, smiling. At 20-weeks, we found out that we were expecting a boy. The girls were so excited to have a baby brother. Whilst I tried to stay positive, I worried every day of my pregnancy. Up until 28-weeks. ‘If the baby is born now, he will be able to survive in an incubator,’ I explained to my family, relieved. I could finally enjoy being pregnant.
In March 2019, my chemotherapy finished. At 37-weeks pregnant, doctors worried about the baby’s growth.
‘It’s safer to induce labour,’ they agreed.
On 18 May 2019, we welcomed Sina into the world. He weighed 5lbs 5oz, and was very healthy.
I felt so relieved holding him in my arms.
For three days, I was able to breastfeed him.
But due to the side effects of chemo, I didn’t have much milk, so we had to bottle-feed.
I enjoyed the first three weeks just like any other mum.
Then it was time to finish my cancer treatment.
Sina kept me distracted during my radiotherapy. Fight for him, I thought. In April this year, I was given the all-clear.
I am currently having hormone therapy, and I am proudly cancer-free.
Without Dr Masooma Zaidi, my son wouldn’t be here.
She calmed me down and reassured me, and gave Sina the option to live.
I will forever be grateful. Last year, I nominated Dr Zaidi for the Pride of Portsmouth patient award.
And she was over the moon to be a finalist.
Up until three years ago, all women diagnosed with cancer would have got an abortion.
It’s incredible now that we are able to carry healthy babies.
And more people need to know about it!
It’s important to raise awareness to other women and healthcare professionals, who like me, didn’t have any idea.
Today, Sina, one, is very energetic and charming.
He’s developing well and has started walking.
On days that I feel depressed or anxious, Sina cheers me up. My baby of hope.
We have saved each other and I’m so happy that I can be here to watch him grow up.
I had no idea he could survive