I wanted to enjoy being a new mum – then I was diagnosed with cancer

‘You have triple negative breast cancer’.

It was August 2021. I was 28, a trainee nurse, and mum to a seven-week-old baby when a doctor sat in front of me and gave me that diagnosis.

I’d been so sure nothing was wrong that I hadn’t asked anyone to come with me to the appointment – I thought I was too young to get cancer.

So, I sat there alone, feeling utter shock.

Before I gave birth, I’d started massaging my breasts to help with milk production. I felt a lump, but I didn’t think anything of it or tell anyone. I knew that breast tissue changes during pregnancy.

My pregnancy, luckily, was normal. My daughter Milana measured on the smaller side so I was induced at 39 weeks, but she was born weighing 6lb 5oz. She was perfect. 

I was having her on my own – her father was not involved – and it felt like she and I were a team from the beginning. 

My first few weeks with Milana had been dominated by medical appointments – I’d developed sepsis and caught Covid while in hospital – and I’d been looking forward to putting it behind me so I could enjoy being a first-time mum.

My milk took a few days to come in. It was when I was pumping that I noticed the lump again.

This time, I told my mum, who encouraged me to see my GP, which I did, when Milana was only four weeks.

He told me it was probably a blocked milk duct, but he referred me to the breast clinic for a biopsy. There, they told me it was a ‘good sign’ that my breast was full of milk.

Everyone had been reassuring, so I put it out of my mind. 

Then, three weeks later, I found out I had cancer.

My cancer was triple negative, which means the cells lack receptors for oestrogen, progesterone, and HER2 protein, making some of the usual treatments ineffective. It’s an aggressive cancer that mostly affects younger women.

I was terrified. I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t bear the thought that I might have to leave my tiny newborn daughter. My friends and family were just as frightened, but they were all so supportive.

As soon as I was diagnosed, the doctor asked me if I wanted more children, because chemo would affect my fertility.

I had no idea what the future held, but I wanted to have the option of having more kids, so I decided to freeze my eggs.

I had chemotherapy for 18 weeks, and it was brutal, especially with Milana. I was so tired and overwhelmed.

The more rounds I had, the worse I felt – side effects took hold and infections and pneumonia put me in hospital a few times. 

As awful as it was, I managed on my own at home for the first three months. I had no choice: I needed to fight to survive, for Milana.

My mum was incredible. I was determined to keep the pressure off her, but eventually Milana and I moved in with her. She did everything for us, while also looking after her own two younger children. 

Mum had her own two younger children to look after, but she did everything for me and Milana. She looked after night feeds, drove me to hospital appointments, encouraged me to take my and made sure I was eating well. 

Once I finished chemo, I had 15 rounds of radiotherapy, which was just as tough. I also had my first mastectomy and lymph node removal, and my skin was stretched with an expander, ready for reconstruction.

After my surgery, mum even helped dress me. I had limited movement after my lymph nodes were removed and I had drains attached to me, plus lots of dressings in place. 

It was such a hard time. I couldn’t lift Milana, feed her or even cuddle her. It broke my heart, but I knew I was doing the right thing.

I don’t know how I did it.

Since then, I’ve had a second mastectomy, which was done at the same time as reconstruction for my first breast, with fat removed from my legs to create a breast. 

This was by far the most painful surgery to recover from.

On 3 March 2022 – ironically, Triple Negative Breast Cancer Day – I found out I was cancer free, seven months after being diagnosed. 

I can’t quite put into words how that felt. I know I hugged my baby girl tightly, a lot. 

Four years on, I am now celebrating being alive. A few weeks after being told I was cancer free, I took Milana on her first holiday abroad, to Fuertaventura, with my mum and my two younger brothers. 

My immune system had been compromised by the chemo, so I’d not been able to take her swimming for such a long time. I was still sore from surgery while we were away, but seeing her splashing around in the pool was a real highlight. 

Life felt good – and the cherry on the top came in 2024, when I got pregnant, naturally, with my son Presley. It was so unexpected, and such an incredible moment. He’s eight months now; my miracle baby.

When I was diagnosed, my life should have been filled with newborn cuddles and late-night feeds, but instead I was facing scans, treatment plans and the fear of not being here to watch my daughter grow up.

Since my treatment, I’ve become an ambassador for the charity, Prevent Breast Cancer – and this month, I’m taking part in their fundraiser, where I walk one mile every day in honour of the 31 families who lose someone they love to breast cancer each day.

Breast cancer doesn’t always look how you expect it to. It doesn’t only happen to ‘older women’. I want to tell people: check your body, trust your instincts, don’t ignore changes – and push for answers if something doesn’t feel right.

Early detection saves lives, and life after diagnosis is possible. Breast cancer doesn’t have to define you. You can be scared and strong at the same time. 

You can go through treatment and still be a mum, a partner, a friend. 

You can still be you.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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