Rob came home for lunch and a run last Tuesday, so I drove him back to the office and had just pulled into the garage to get the mail when my phone rang.

"Is this a good time?" my genetic counselor asked while I balanced the phone on my shoulder and looked into our mailbox. Just junk as usual. 

"Sure," I said, because I always knew in my gut that the test was going to come back positive for a BRCA gene mutation, and I wasn't surprised when she told me that I was right. I didn't think I needed someone there when I got the news, but suddenly I couldn't believe she didn't call just an hour sooner, while Rob was home with me.

I made it back upstairs before breaking into tears. I thought about my mom, home from surgery, wincing through the pain of recovery; and how as I washed her hair for her a few days later I selfishly prayed that I would never be on the other side of a double mastectomy.

But I will be.

Being BRCA2-positive means that I have a lifetime risk of 41%-84% for breast cancer, and up to a 27% risk of ovarian cancer. The hardest thing to remember these past few days is that my test results are not a cancer diagnosis, and that without surgery, there's still a chance I could live my whole life without ever having cancer. 

There are some days where knowing that I have a gene mutation feels so incredibly unfair, but there are more days where I feel blessed in the strangest way. We all have a certain risk of all kinds of illnesses, because we're alive and we're human and things go wrong. This is one that I get to face head on and avoid. It's a gift. 

We haven't made any decisions yet and we don't have to--my genetic counselor was very adamant about making sure we knew that there's no rush. For a couple of days Rob and I stressed ourselves out trying to decide if we should have kids soon or if we should move to a bigger place and when would our loans be paid off and will we need two cars? It was too much. For now I'll start getting an annual MRI to make sure things are fine; and once we've had a few kids, I'll most likely choose to have a double mastectomy and reconstruction.

While I've managed to be pretty matter-of-fact and somewhat logical about this whole thing, the overwhelming truth is that I'm really scared. But I'm also hopeful. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and even with the overwhelm that has been my life lately, I don't think I've ever been more grateful--for my life, my health, my husband. That my mom is doing well. I'm thankful for God, for science and medicine, for options. For the future.

Wishing each of you a happy and healthy beginning to this holiday season.

This morning I went to the Levine Cancer Institute for a blood test and a session with a genetic counselor. In two weeks I'll know if I tested positive for a BRCA2 mutation.

I've had several people ask me how I'm holding up; how I feel about getting the genetic testing, and I have to be totally honest even if it sounds ridiculously optimistic--I've been looking forward to this, and I'm almost excited to hear how the blood work comes back. My counselor said something to me this morning that had already been on my mind for a while: knowing that you're BRCA positive doesn't mean anything except that you're more well-informed about your health.

For as long as I can remember, I have been deathly afraid of needles. The past few times I've had blood work done, I've walked so slowly and carefully that you'd think I was on my way to an electric chair. I usually have to lie down, and I toss and turn a few nights before, losing sleep over the anticipation of a simple couple of seconds. This time, however, I just didn't worry about it. I feel fortunate to have the access to a test that can give me potentially life-saving information. (Watching my mom recover from major surgery certainly helped me gain some perspective.)

So if my test comes back negative, I'll continue along with the same risk that most other women have. And if it's positive, we'll just go from there. But we'll know, and that's really something.

“For any woman reading this, I hope it helps you to know you have options. I want to encourage every woman, especially if you have a family history of breast or ovarian cancer, to seek out the information and medical experts who can help you through this aspect of your life, and to make your own informed choices...

I choose not to keep my story private because there are many women who do not know that they might be living under the shadow of cancer. It is my hope that they, too, will be able to get gene tested, and that if they have a high risk they, too, will know that they have strong options.

Life comes with many challenges. The ones that should not scare us are the ones we can take on and take control of.”

— Angelina Jolie, "My Medical Choice"

I'm headed back to Charlotte today after over two weeks here at the lake with my mom. She is such a trooper, walking around and doing almost everything for herself at this point--I don't know if I've ever been more proud of her. But I definitely know I couldn't have done any of this without help from my awesome brother.

I'm so ready to be home again (even though we're going out of town this weekend) and get back to normal life with Rob and Ender, but I feel a little sad to be leaving, like I somehow haven't done enough. 

Thank you all so much for your thoughts, prayers, and kind words of encouragement these last two weeks. It has truly meant the world to me and my family! I'll be back to regular posting again after the weekend.