emily walker
“I loved the concept of real stories and real women. The more people who hear real life stories, the more people will feel supported, and that what they are going through is normal. I felt that sharing my story could make others feel like they are part of a wider community of people who have all been through something tough - but you can find positives and use your experience to focus on what you want to be ongoing.”
“I had my first child in 2011 when I was 32; it was such a different experience to when I had my second and third. It was a totally new world first time around, focused on a new experience, connecting and learning…
It was hard navigating such unknown territory, questioning everything I did, getting to know this new person who was totally vulnerable and reliant on you 24 hours a day, and understanding what they needed from you. You give over your body to their needs, from pregnancy to breastfeeding, and for years your body is not your own, it's shared and needed by someone else. I loved so much of it, but so much of it was hard too. It was like being thrown into a job that you have no training for and are expected to be perfect at from your first day. But you find your groove and settle into yourself.
After our first child, I had complications falling pregnant again and I finally did some assisted fertility treatments. Sadly we lost the pregnancy at 11 weeks. It was far enough into the pregnancy for me to be visualising this new person in my life and making plans for that. This hit me really hard; the loss of the idea of that baby, that new part of your growing family. I fell into a really dark place, which at the time I didn't realise was depression, but on reflection I know it was.
We moved pretty quickly into the IVF process, as I felt that every day and month was time slipping away from me; there was a sudden sense of urgency. I would count the growing age difference of what my children might be, every single month. There was anxiety, tears, fear, hope…all at once. I was lucky to fall pregnant after one round of IVF, and almost like the Universe knew about my past, I was unexpectedly having twins.
A very different pregnancy and birth followed; much more medically focused and a high risk, planned C-section, two weeks of NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit),
how to feed and settle two babies at once, with a 4.5 year old in tow. I think there was a period of shock, growing from a family of 3 to 5 is like going from a gentle jog to a sprint. And as it continued, my body was still not my own. From my first baby, fertility treatment, miscarriage, IVF, twins, feeding, I realised at that point that for five years I had never actually had my body back to myself. A vessel lent out to these little people that relied solely on me.
Breastfeeding two babies is hard work, it's 24 hours of feeding and expressing and it's exhausting. I wanted to persist so much, to give them what my first had been given. At five months my Mum finally told me to stop and I realised it was the "permission" I needed. I look back at that moment and I know that it's what actually saved my life.
A month after I stopped breastfeeding I found a lump in my right breast. Breast cancer. I would never had found it if I had persisted in my unrealistic pursuit of breastfeeding the twins. The time immediately after giving birth, and your 70s, are the two most common periods for developing breast cancer. Like your body hasn't been through enough, off you go into a world way harder than anything you had ever imagined. Especially at the age of 37.
Suddenly you don't know your body at all. What is this thing that can produce life but then turn on you and invade itself? You lose all trust in it; it's like a stranger. Multiple surgeries, chemo, radiation - all the while wondering who on earth you are, why this is happening, and if you will survive it. Three small people still reliant on you. Everything else almost falls away, and the only thing that matters is your children. Being a Mum, being allowed to just keep being a Mum. Every single dose of chemicals that goes into your body, just for this? In the beginning I was so completely focused on my children, almost to the point that I couldn't be away from them. Over time I realised that I had to develop a healthier way to do this; I couldn't smother them because of my own fear of dying. So that's what I have worked on, to be present and loving and make life choices so I can do that, but also to have my own self and give them the space they need to be themselves. I have also had to work on the relationship I have with my own body, to turn it from being an unpredictable stranger, to something I need to look after and love - to reconnect the mind and the body and not fight with them. We're finally friends again.
Our first daughter was born in Australia and the twins were born in Singapore. They were both supportive environments and I think that conversations around mental health, especially in Australia, have come a long way even since then.
We moved to Hong Kong when the girls were 2 and 7 and I finally felt ready to do some deeper work on my cancer experience and parenting. I was shocked to find no support in Hong Kong; the charity sector is very much focused on local women (and services are mostly provided in Cantonese). I found one group of English-speaking survivors who met informally for coffee. I went once. Since then I have been lucky to find an amazing Hong Kong-based wellness practitioner who has helped me clarify my own mind, self and to reconnect with my body again.
You have to be ready to face a lot of past experiences and challenge perceptions that you have of yourself. If you have the strength to look at it all in the face and wade through it, you can come out at the other end and create a path forward. But it's never really over; you need to keep working on it, but it's actually quite liberating. Find the things that work for you and then make them a priority. Actually enjoy the process, be motivated and energised by it.
It was a slow process. Building on top of what you can, taking it slowly and being kind to yourself. Build a good base, then add layer by layer as you get stronger. I began therapy about a year after my cancer diagnosis in Australia, and have continued it in Hong Kong. It has now been five years since then.
Sometimes I feel strangely grateful that I've had these hard experiences. To reset your life, get to know yourself, and be able to work on that is truly a luxury.”