Not now (not ever)

The other night as I put away our dinner's leftovers, Andy yelled down to me as he carried Roscoe from the tub into his room to get ready for bed, "If I ever die, I carry Roscoe in his towel like a sling, and call him a baby elephant or a baby whale."

I paused. "Um, okay?"

He responded, "Well, I just want you to know in case something ever happens to me. He really likes it."

Silence.

I thought for a minute, and then blurted out, "If I ever die, I want you to get remarried."

Long pause. "Hold on one second." Andy appeared at the foot of the stairs holding Roscoe in his arms. "What are you talking about? Why?"

"I wouldn't want the boys to grow up without a mother. I would want you to get remarried." He furrowed his brow, gave me a quick kiss, and said we'd talk later, then ascended the stairs and disappeared into the hallway leading to Roscoe's dimly lit room.

A few weeks ago I found a lump in my right breast. It was palpable and a little tender. The tenderness was familiar and I was worried because that meant it had been around for a while. Maybe even as early as those first days in the NICU with Merritt. On the upside, I thought it might be breastfeeding related.

I made an appointment for a few days later, and the nurse practitioner was confident that it was a plugged milk duct. So confident that I almost brushed off the suggested followup of an ultrasound, in part because of the inconvenience of Andy having to take off work since they don't allow kids at appointments.

But then I thought about my boys, and scheduled the ultrasound so that we could know for sure and move forward without any doubts.

Yesterday morning the four of us trooped to the Radiologist's and when my name was called I left Andy and the kids behind, anxious to confirm that this lump was nothing at all to be concerned about.

When she was finished, the tech said she'd be back in a second, the doctor needed to review the images. I remained on my back staring up at five large stickers of different colored cartoon cats and dogs stuck to the ceiling. With no clock in the room I gauged time by the number of pop songs that came through on the radio. About 5 1/2 of them. It had been too long, and I stuck my head out the door to see if I could flag anyone down.

My eyes locked with the patient waiting across from me. We exchanged sympathetic glances and I ducked back into my room to flip through magazines.

My mind wandered to Merritt who would undoubtedly need to nurse soon, and Roscoe who's lunchtime was also quickly approaching. I wished I had brought my cell phone to check in with Andy who was probably wondering what had happened to me.

Just then, a doctor entered the room with my tech following closely behind him. Uh oh.

He took a look for himself and then explained that the lump is structural and located outside of ducts. They can't rule out malignancy with ultrasound, so a biopsy was recommended. There are risks associated with biopsy in lactating women, the worst of which (in my opinion) is a post op requirement to refrain from nursing for 2 or 3 days afterward. Obviously, this would impact my supply. I had a lot of questions, and the doctor answered each of them, but I got the impression that he doesn't often deal with these issues in the context of breastfeeding. So I'm not taking his word as final. Another option is to wait six months and see if and how the mass progresses.

Given what might be at stake I don't feel comfortable with the wait and see approach.

Yesterday afternoon my records were faxed to Georgetown Hospital's breast surgeons who will review my films and provide a second opinion on how best to move forward.

Has anyone else had a core biopsy while nursing? Were you able to work around the post-op protocol to maintain your nursing relationship?