The Joy—and Fear—of Breastfeeding with BRCA1
Receiving a diagnosis of the BRCA1 genetic mutation can feel like being handed an unwelcome roadmap to your future. In 2017, I was one of many women who navigated this challenging path. The doctors and genetic counselors laid out my risks: a 55-72% chance of developing breast cancer by age 70 and a 39-44% chance for ovarian cancer. Armed with these numbers, I was ushered into a world where choices carried immense weight.
Information as Empowerment
In the face of such daunting statistics, information became my shield. The medical team recommended early screenings and, unexpectedly, breastfeeding if I decided to have children. Studies suggested that breastfeeding for just one year could reduce breast cancer risk in BRCA1-positive individuals by 32%. This piece of advice felt within reach—almost comforting amid a sea of medical jargon.
Planning Parenthood
Marriage had just begun when I received my diagnosis, and the idea of children was still on the distant horizon. Yet breastfeeding seemed like the most human response to my genetic predicament—a small, yet significant act within a highly medicalized to-do list. It felt manageable compared to prophylactic surgeries. The thought that breastfeeding might stall more drastic measures gave me hope.
Embarking on Breastfeeding
The early days of breastfeeding were filled with both challenges and learning curves. From the initial assistance by a lactation consultant to navigating painful cracked nipples, each experience was marked by determination. Despite these hurdles, I persevered, buoyed by the promise of reducing my cancer risk.
Continuing Against Odds
As months turned into years, breastfeeding became a staple through preschool illnesses and life changes, including a global pandemic. Each nursing session felt like a victory—a step toward mitigating risk. Yet, I was aware that even this couldn’t eliminate my chances entirely.
The Decision to Expand the Family
During one postpartum checkup, my OB gently prodded about having more children. Balancing family planning and health risks became a complex equation, yet another baby meant an opportunity for more time—a precious delay before facing the mastectomy.
A Second Chapter Begins
Last summer marked both the birth of my second child and a poignant realization: I was nearing the end of this journey. With no more children planned, the mastectomy loomed closer. My breastfeeding experience with my youngest daughter brought its own set of challenges—her independence from nursing mirrored my impending detachment from my breast tissue.
Complex Bonds
Breastfeeding connected us in multifaceted ways, intertwining nourishment and emotional closeness. As the days of nursing waned, I savored these moments, aware that they were fleeting. Each feeding session was a poignant reminder of what was to come.
Embracing Change
Breastfeeding my second daughter wasn’t as seamless as it had been with her sister. Her distraction at the breast became a metaphor for life’s unpredictability and the limits of control over my genetic destiny. Yet, I continued to nurse, finding solace in these final moments before another chapter—a brave new beginning without breast tissue—began.
Final Thoughts
This journey with BRCA1 has been a testament to resilience, love, and the complex interplay between genetics and life’s choices. It underscores that while we can’t control everything, our decisions can shape our paths in meaningful ways. As I look forward, I carry both the joy of having nurtured my children and the courage needed for the next steps ahead.