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Listening to My Instincts

July 19, 2011

My husband had taken the day off from work and we were taking our nine-month baby girl to Disneyland for the very first time.  It was incredibly windy that October morning and our girl had a slight fever and runny nose.  She was just cutting her first two bottom teeth.  

Days earlier I had felt a lump in my left breast.  Odd.  Where’d that come from, I wondered.  I had been breastfeeding since my daughter was born and always had my hands on my breasts: adjusting, pumping, shifting, and squeezing.  You definitely know what I mean if you’ve ever nursed a baby.  I thought it was weird I hadn’t felt it before — it was rock hard and couldn’t be missed.

I had just started to wean my little girl and wasn’t producing as much milk as the months before.  I had chalked up this particular lump as being general lumpiness of the breast and dismissed it for a few days.  Who could fault me?  I was 33, just had a healthy pregnancy, and really, who could imagine it would be anything more than maybe an abscess.  

But, that whole day at Disneyland I thought about that lump.  When we bought our girl her first Mouse Ears hat I thought about that lump.  When we rode the Winnie the Pooh ride I thought about that lump.  When we ate in New Orleans Square and smiled for pictures in front of the castle I thought about that lump.

What do you think I’m thinking about?
I’ve always trusted my instincts.  And I knew something was wrong.

Next up: the phone call to the doctor and the diagnosis.  
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