This photo was taken just five minutes before the doctor walked in to tell me that the tumor he removed last week wasn’t benign after all—it was cancer.
Let me rewind for a moment. When I found out I was pregnant back in April, I was definitely surprised, but overwhelmingly happy to be adding another sweet baby to our little family. At my very first ultrasound, my doctor paused and told me she had found what she called “a baseball-sized tumor” on my ovary. Instantly, the word cancer flashed through my mind. She explained that she believed it was a fibroma—a benign tumor—but there was no way to know for sure without a biopsy, and biopsies aren’t done during pregnancy.
“So… I just have to wait nine months to find out if this thing is cancer?” My thoughts were racing. I had endless questions, and unfortunately, her bedside manner didn’t bring me the comfort I desperately needed. After talking with friends and family, several people suggested getting a second opinion. One doctor’s name kept coming up again and again. I didn’t see that as a coincidence—it felt like a God thing—so I made the call. I wanted reassurance, clarity, and a physician I could trust.
From the moment I met him, everything felt different. His presence was calm, warm, and reassuring. He also believed the tumor was benign, eased my anxiety, hugged me, and spent nearly 45 minutes examining me, answering every question, and truly listening. For the first time, I felt heard. I left knowing, without a doubt, that this man had to deliver my baby. Together, we formed a plan moving forward, and I felt peace return. Thank You, God.
Every few weeks, I went in for monitoring. He measured the tumor and watched its growth closely. While we didn’t love that it was growing alongside the baby, we remained hopeful it would slow down or stop. Instead, it kept growing. At the time, this devastated me—but in hindsight, I now say, “Thank you, God.” By 15 weeks pregnant, the tumor had grown to nearly 12 centimeters. I was terrified. The idea of surgery while pregnant consumed my thoughts, and the “what ifs” felt endless.
My surgery was scheduled for last Friday. The week leading up to it was filled with the worst anxiety I’ve ever experienced. I worried nonstop—about the surgery, about my baby, about every possible outcome. But even in my fear, I trusted my doctor completely.
Around this time, something strange started happening. I began seeing the number 1 everywhere—constantly. It started when I became pregnant. At first, my husband Micah thought I was just reaching, but eventually he saw it too. 1:11. 11:11. Over and over again, usually during moments of worry. I learned that the number 1 symbolizes unity—God and Jesus, oneness, divine presence. Each time I saw it, I reminded myself that God was telling me everything would be okay. Coincidence or not, it brought me comfort—and I chose to believe it was Him.
The morning of surgery, I woke up calm. Strangely calm. A week earlier, I had experienced a full-blown panic attack—but now? Peace. God. I showered, Micah drove me to the surgery center, and as I stepped out of the car, I looked up to see the address: 1111. I gasped. “Boo, look—one, one, one, one!” He smiled. They walked me into pre-op. Room number? 11. I couldn’t stop smiling. I knew He was with me. I went into surgery believing everything would be okay. I woke up, and the mass had been removed and sent off for biopsy, just as a precaution.
Yesterday, I was excited to see my doctor—to thank him, update him on my recovery, and finally find out if this baby was a boy or a girl. But when he walked in, something was different. His expression was serious. He told us we needed to talk. What they removed wasn’t a fibroma. It was cancer.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t panic. I just listened. I was in shock. I’m healthy. I eat well. I’m active. How could this be happening? And then it hit me—we are not in control. He is. I looked at Micah and said, “How blessed are we that I got pregnant? I would’ve never known this tumor existed if it weren’t for this baby. I had no symptoms. I felt completely fine.”
My doctor teared up. “I didn’t even think of that,” he said. He told me he believed divine intervention brought me to him. Then he pointed to a photograph on the wall, unable to speak. Through tears, I asked, “Is that your daughter?” After a pause, he nodded. “Yes. In all my years practicing, she’s the only other case of this cancer I’ve ever seen.” We all broke down—not from sadness, but from confirmation. God had brought us together for a reason.
That afternoon, I was sent for an MRI. Today, I received the call—it was all clear. My doctor will speak with me Tuesday after meeting with a board of specialists to determine next steps. We don’t yet know whether chemo will happen during pregnancy or afterward, but I will be closely monitored by an OB oncologist.
For two years, I’ve been praying weekly for a deeper relationship with God. I believed, but I questioned. I watched women around me endure unimaginable hardships with unwavering faith—and I wanted that closeness. Now I have it. I know He has been with me every step of the way, and I feel called to share this so others might see that He is with them too.
This tiny miracle growing inside me saved my life. Without that first ultrasound, cancer could have gone undetected for who knows how long. Thank You, God, for listening—and for teaching me to listen too. Thank you to our friends and family for your love, prayers, and support. Please keep us in your prayers a little longer. With faith and prayer, I truly believe everything is going to be alright.
UPDATE: I had my first appointment with my OB oncologist yesterday. After reviewing my case with a tumor board of eight specialists, they believe they removed all of the cancer. There is only a 25% chance of recurrence. To avoid chemo during pregnancy, I’ll be closely monitored with frequent MRIs and ultrasounds. If all remains clear, we may not need chemo at all. I’ll also be getting a second opinion at MD Anderson to ensure we’ve covered every base.
We are staying hopeful and positive. The outpouring of love, meals, donations, and prayers has left us overwhelmed—in the best way. We are deeply grateful. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
