My experience having suffered a molar pregnancy was one I never thought I would share, but you know what? If any one person out there can read about my experience and lighten their burden, I am happy to share my experience.

In 1997, at the age of 20, I gave birth to a healthy, happy baby girl. Fast forward 2 years, and I learned I was once again expecting. I was a little shell shocked but elated nonetheless. I felt confident that not only was I now a married woman (to my daughter’s father) but I also knew what being a mother was all about, and I was kind of great at it! I had not returned to my full-time job after my daughter was born because there was not even a possibility of my not spending 24/7 with my child. Very shortly after learning of this second pregnancy, I was shocked that I was actually feeling well and not experiencing violent episodes of nausea or vomiting. I thought, “I really got good at this incubus gig.”

I was under the supervision of a hematologist at the time due to inexplicable anemia. I lost that little one at 6 weeks and felt absolutely guilt ridden. Upon testing I was told my little nugget had never made it past the zygote stage. I experienced this sadness and frustration three more times until I became not just pregnant again, but stop-a-bus pregnant—with massive breasts, throwing up many, many times a day, and looking 8 months along from very early. At 10 weeks I also started to have heavy brown discharge. I was informed by my OB/GYN that first-trimester bleeding was not uncommon, but with my previous history and nervous nature, I begged for an ultrasound. Unfortunately, this time my uterus was not carrying a fetus with a heartbeat but rather a mass of cells that threw my hormones way off track and had a snowflake appearance. Several months later, after keeping up my due diligence to monitor my hCG levels, my values became such that a condition called choriocarcinoma (a form of cancer) had somehow developed, possibly from a tiny bit of molar tissue that had been missed during the original procedure. This cost me not only the unpleasant trials of chemotherapy, but also a hysterectomy at age 27.