How my story begins: My story begins when I was 2 months postpartum. I received a phone call on a Saturday afternoon from my Oncologist. I had gotten a conization a few weeks prior. I thought that all I had was pre-cancerous cells and that the conization would remove them. He told me I was in stage 2 or 3 and that I needed a radical hysterectomy and lymph node dissection. I woke up after my surgery being told that the cancer was in some of my lymph nodes, so my final stage was 3C1.
Life before my diagnosis: I was living a normal life as a wife and a mother. I had just given birth to our youngest son two months prior.
How I felt after diagnosis: I was overwhelmed, a whirlwind of shock, confusion, and fear. In that moment, my mind raced—if I die, my children will grow up without a mother. How could my husband carry on and raise them alone? The weight of it hit me like a tidal wave, and I had never felt the cold, suffocating grip of death so closely.
Telling my family and friends: Breaking the news to my friends and family was very difficult. Their hearts broke instantly, yet through their tears, there was an unwavering belief in me. They all held onto the hope that I would fight and make it through.
My treatment: My treatment started the day after my 36th birthday. I received two rounds of Cisplatin and 6 weeks of radiation. I had to pause treamtent several times due to getting an infection that was causing sepsis.
How I felt after treatment: The good part: ringing the bell was a moment of triumph for me. It was hard to fully grasp everything I had been through during treatment. But in that instant, a wave of gratitude washed over me—blessed, relieved, and humbled to have made it to the other side, to survivorship. The bad part: I was very sick due to the side affects of treatment.
What was most difficult for me: The hardest part for me was finding balance - holding onto a positive mindset while still allowing myself to fully feel the weight of what was happening. My mind was constantly torn between the two, caught in a tug-of-war between hope and reality, never quite at peace in either space.
What I did to help myself: I built boundaries to protect my peace and aid in my healing. I carefully chose what I allowed into my life—only things that lifted me up. I surrounded myself with kind, loving people who radiated warmth. I listened to music that nourished my soul. Daily affirmations kept my mind focused on the light, and prayer became my refuge. I eliminated anything that brought negativity into my world, creating a space that was solely devoted to my healing and strength.
My life after cancer: Life after cancer brought challenges I never could have imagined. A few months following treatment, I began to lose feeling in my toes—a realization that hit me one day as I was driving my children to daycare. What followed were months of persistent tingling, numbness, stabbing pains, and a growing discomfort that crept up from my feet to my thighs. The pain and numbness became so intense that I started to fall at home, eventually needing a walker just to get around. Over time, I lost the ability to walk entirely.
In December 2024, I was admitted to the ER, where I remained for two weeks, before transferring to an inpatient rehabilitation center for another two weeks to relearn how to walk. The diagnosis: radiation-induced peripheral neuropathy, which had left me paralyzed.
As if that wasn’t enough, treatment thrust me into early menopause, a shift that took a severe toll on my mental health, leaving me struggling in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It was very hard to say the least.
Where I am today: Today, I am filled with hope and strength. Through outpatient physical therapy, I've made incredible progress. From not being able to walk at all, I've gone on to take a few steps without assistance. Every day, I focus on healing, nurturing both my body and mind. I've also found purpose in sharing my story, hoping that by doing so, I can prevent others from going through what I went through,
What I want other women to know: I want every woman to understand just how crucial cervical cancer screenings are. I had no signs or symptoms. As Black women, we are twice as likely to die from cervical cancer compared to our non-Black counterparts. This is a staggering and alarming disparity that cannot be ignored. Please, get screened and encourage the women you love to do the same. It could save a life.
How I will try to help others: I will help others by sharing my story even if my voice is trembling, even through the tears. It has become my mission to raise awareness about cervical cancer, its prevention, its signs and symptoms, and the importance of screening, HPV and the HPV vaccine. By speaking out, I hope to empower women to take control of their health.
Any additional information you'd like to share: One thing I haven’t shared much about since treatment is the deep disconnect it caused between me and my baby. I nursed all of my children for at least six months, but because of chemotherapy and radiation, I couldn’t do that with him. After my hysterectomy, I couldn’t even hold him. I was away for months, in and out of the hospital, and that precious bonding time was stolen from us. Bonding with your baby after birth is so crucial, and mine was interrupted in ways I never imagined. I had to learn to show myself grace, working through the overwhelming feelings of guilt and the belief that I was failing as a mom. To all the mothers out there: you are doing the best you can with what you’ve been given. Be kind to yourself and show yourself grace.